Nursing Past My Goal

by Heather Petit

Some people have wondered why I am continuing to nurse my 15-month-old son, when my goal was to nurse for one year.

I originally aimed for a year of breastfeeding, but decided not to be too hard on myself if I only lasted six months. Six months was my personal "guilt" cutoff, the same length of time my mother nursed me, back when it was REALLY unfashionable to do so. Sure, almost nobody supported her, but she also didn't have to pump in a bathroom stall, or wash pump parts in the lunchroom sink. When the sixth month came and went, and I was still managing well, I was delighted to add each month onto my mental "mommy
points" list. I was hanging in there despite periodic difficulties, and it looked like I would make it to a full year, as recommended by the AAP. Hooray! I set my sights once more on the goal of one full year of nursing, and kept going.

But then the year mark approached, and I began to try to figure out how to wean my son... he certainly wasn't going to do it on his own. This added some anxiety to my daily pumping sessions. How long was I going to continue pumping? Should I stop pumping now? What was the best way to get him to stop WANTING to nurse, so it wouldn't be a big trauma when we stopped... With all that worry, my slowly dwindling milk supply soon crashed, despite a good try with fenugreek capsules. Even worse, my son wasn't even a year old yet! After a quick consult with my pediatrician, we introduced cow's milk during the day, and I stopped pumping. We only nursed morning, evening, and night. Ah, I thought to myself, my milk will dry up by the one-year mark, and my little boy will stop nursing out of frustration with lack of supply. This'll be easy!

Yeah, and pigs will fly. His response, of course, was to nurse more insistently when he had access. He learned to ask, by tapping me on the chest with a "please?" expression on his face. His face always lit up when I said yes, and he looked so sad when we needed to wait for a more appropriate time. He worked on me to keep us going. I just couldn't manage to break the heart of my tender-hearted boy, not when he made it abundantly clear how important this was to him.

My husband asked a few times if I wasn't planning on weaning soon. I just shrugged, and said it would take a while. I didn't tell him how much at odds with myself I was over weaning. When it came down to it, I enjoyed the nursing relationship we had developed, and neither of us really WANTED to stop. At the same time, I was tired, and tired of feeling burdened by being a breastfeeding mom. I was nearly at my "goal," couldn't I stop now? I tried one thing and another, but nothing felt right. I was totally tangled up inside, and hoped that somehow weaning would just HAPPEN, so I wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

Then, just after his first birthday, we got to experience the trauma of a stomach flu in a one-year old. No diarrhea, at least... just vomiting, and not eating anything. Not even baby food, or crackers, or any of his favorite things. Nothing. Except the nursing. He'd nurse, then an hour later, he'd throw up - usually on me. I learned a new baseline for maternal love, as I would pull off the soiled shirt, and put on a fresh one before settling back down in the recliner to nurse him again. All that mattered to me was that he was as comfortable as possible. He slept on my chest when he could, and I held him when he cried as the nausea came back. The vomiting stopped, but he still wouldn't eat. He nursed instead.

A trip to the pediatrician confirmed that I was doing the right thing. My son was getting tons more nutrition than any pediatric re-hydrator would give, and was keeping his fluids up. My pediatrician commended me for nursing, and told me that even if breastmilk was all he got, that was just fine. He would have been more concerned if my son was not nursing. For the first time since I began thinking about weaning him, I heaved a sigh of genuine relief that I was "still nursing" my son. It wasn't the last time I felt that relief. Several varieties of diarrhea have passed through all the kids in his daycare (no pun intended). Except for my son. He gets the fever, but never the runs that "always go with it." He's also the only one still nursing.

So I decided to keep going, with the bemused support of my husband.

I wonder, if I had stopped, if I would have missed one of the most charming moments of my life. Another sick day, but this time it was me... I came back from a business trip, with the flu. I was completely dragging, but managed to settle in with my son in the recliner (handy thing, recliners) and nurse him. I wanted him to nurse, partly to inoculate him to the flu I carried, partly to get time with him that didn't involve chasing him all over the house - I was already totally exhausted by this flu, I didn't need any help from a boy who had just learned how to RUN! If I had weaned him already, he would have been on his father's lap, and I would have been in bed, asleep. Instead, I was wake, with an active 14-month-old bouncing on my lap, asking if he could nurse (please?).

So, there we were that evening, sitting in a darkened room, him on my lap with a milk smile on his face. He petted my hair for a moment, then looked gently and seriously at my face, ending up with a long moment of direct eye contact, something he doesn't do very often. Finally, he leaned forward slightly, as if to tell me a secret. He smiled, gently patted my cheek, and said quietly, "buu" - his word for beautiful. Mommy, you're beautiful.

Totally melted my heart.

And he didn't catch the flu.

Yeah, I'm still nursing. I have discovered that the real goal of nursing isn't "making it" to a pre-determined date or "lasting" a specific length of time. Or even stopping by a specific age. The real goal is a happy, healthy, well-nourished child ... right?