Bye bye breastfeeding, a special phase of motherhood

A work trip recently pushed me (or maybe helped me) to accelerate an otherwise difficult decision: to stop breastfeeding León, who is now a year and a half.

It wasn’t easy to decide to travel alone for the first time ever, and to do so without having first officially weaned him. But Nacho, my husband, managed to get him to sleep in his arms — León adapted quickly to the new rhythm, sleeping deeply through the night (when he would usually wake up to breastfeed), making us envision that he was ready to join Lorenzo in the children’s bedroom.

With Lorenzo, my first-born, I struggled for a long time to figure out when and how to wean him. There was the theory (“I would love to make it to two years of breastfeeding, to help his immune system, especially through the winter — he is a February baby”). The Covid factor also helped — no trips or possibility to be outside the house. I was struggling so much to understand how I would stop breastfeeding even if I was starting to feel aversion — when breastfeeding triggers negative emotions or intrusive thoughts. I did not understand what I was experiencing until I interviewed Zainab Yate, a biomedical ethicist and researcher, for this very newsletter. She wrote a book about breastfeeding aversion, and our chat helped me understand that the time had come for me to let go.

(When I did make up my mind, the process was so much easier than I had previously imagined).

So, why do I struggle so much with an apparently simple decision?

For some, I breastfed way more than they would have. For others, I may have weaned León too early. In such cases, the external world does not offer help, but only increases the confusion we may have as parents. Confusing messaging may have to do with when you send a child to daycare, how to put them to sleep, whether or not to give them a dummy… But let’s take breastfeeding as an example.

A lot of information out there

There is some science out there to guide us in making decisions; there is also science that is far from conclusive. Here are some examples of the range of information you may find online if you go looking for it:

U.S. economist Emily Oster has dedicated herself to deciphering some of the research for parents, though she is not an expert per se on breastfeeding. For example, she debunks the idea that breastfeeding improves a child’s IQ, saying that studies do not account for the fact that higher-educated and wealthier mothers tend to breastfeed more. She also tends to reassure mothers that they shouldn’t lose their sleep over breastfeeding, if they don’t want to.

Other experts, like Prof Amy Brown at Swansea University, warn that minimising the benefits of breastfeeding, as Oster does, does not take into account the multiplier effect of relatively small benefits for an individual baby on the wider public health system.

And still others like Dr. Cara Goodwin, a psychologist who runs the newsletter Parenting Translator, look at single studies with more insights, as she does for example with new research on levels of carbohydrate present in human milk, and its link to early cognitive development. Journalists such as Melinda Wenner Moyer take a science-based approach to what they write about parenting, as in this article about whether it is OK to drink alcohol while breastfeeding (the short answer is yes), even if she doesn’t get into the wider argument.

Yes, a lot of this advice stems from North America, which is a problem in and of itself because it does not reflect different cultural approaches to family bonds or other socioeconomic elements. It is also a good example of how confusing it is to make up one’s mind with all this (often contradictory) information out there.

I am aware of a lot of these debates because I have spent a lot of time writing about issues such as human milk. I understand that it is an incredible superfood and that being able to feed León with it has many advantages. But of course, one’s decisions are not — and should not — be based on some empirical evidence.

A special connection

As I search deeper, I realise that if I am struggling to stop breastfeeding León, it is because it is very unlikely that I will have another child. So ending breastfeeding now means putting a full stop to my life as mother of a baby. It means that I am about to tie up my personal experience on the first 1,000-days timeline.

And as I say goodbye to this phase of my life, and mourn further the miscarriages I experienced, and the thought of the larger family I could have had, I doubt whether I am ready to let go of that beautiful connection that I feel when León is attached to me, when he becomes calmer, sleepier and more well-fed through me.

When I came back from my trip, after eight days away, León was taking his afternoon nap. When he woke up and saw me, he was angry. He would not look at me, and held on tightly to Nacho instead. Only after half an hour, did he start smiling again, and relaxing. And after a little while, he searched for my boob. It was hard to say no, and to do so calmly. Even more so when nighttime arrived, and he started crying.

He was still angry at me. I explained to him that I still loved him, but that my milk was now over. It was hard to stand my ground, but I did. A voice inside me was asking if I was being too selfish, if he needed this deeper connection more than I needed my physical freedom. But unlike when I struggled to stop breastfeeding Lorenzo, I have now learnt more about the importance of looking after myself, and how important that is for my entire family, especially for our children as they grow up. And the time has come, I know, for León to be set free to sleep without being physically attached to my body, as I try to regain some more space for myself and to grow further.

I would love to hear from you about your experiences of weaning and your struggles to prioritise your own well-being against research you may have read. Please reply to this email, or leave a comment below this story on the website, if you’re a paying member.

What I’ve been reading

“Our maternal mortality rate is twice as high as that of non-Indigenous parents; our children are far more likely to be taken by the foster care system… It’s important to talk about these injustices. But it’s equally important to talk about Indigenous parenting as a joyful and hopeful practice…. also our connection to all the ancestors who had come before us, who had lived and loved and survived so that we could be here together.”

This is a great story about an Indigenous woman in the United States and how she worked on reintegrating native customs into birthing practices. Two Spirit nurse midwife Rebekah Dunlap grew up on Minnesota’s Fond du Lac Reservation. Her family had lost touch with traditional customs generations back — part of the colonial legacy of forcing children into Catholic boarding schools to strip them of their customs. The story is part of a series written by Indigenous journalists for motherhood-focused site Romper.

What I’ve been listening to

I finally started listening to The Trojan Horse Affair, an eight-part podcast by Serial Productions and TheNew York Times. It came out in 2022 and it’s been on my list since, partly because it caused quite a controversy. It tells the story behind a strange letter that appears on a city councillor’s desk in Birmingham, England, in 2014, laying out an elaborate plot by Islamic extremists to infiltrate the city’s schools. The podcast investigates what is behind the letter which causes national panic. What’s intriguing is that the podcast itself ended up making headlines since its content was disputed by the government officials involved in the handling of the original plot.

What I’ve been watching

The trailer to Guillermina, a short documentary film by Aida Esther Bueno Sarduy, an Afro-Cuban anthropologist and documentary filmmaker, caught my interest. It is based on a true story of a white boy who emigrates, leaving behind the black woman who raised him, Guillermina. I am very interested in the idea of invisible mothers, nannies from different cultures who raise children around the world and are then forgotten and left behind. The full documentary is not online, but I have contacted the filmmaker, so I hope to report on the story soon.

Who’s been inspiring me

This poem by British poet Hollie McNish, dedicated to friends who are far away, really got to me, especially these lines:

I can’t tell if that light
is a star or a wingtip
either way
I just wish you were closer
either way
I just wish
you would knock on on my door
while I’m working
throw a stone at my window
and wake me
so that we could sit on the pavement
and talk about nothing
and everything
and throw balls at the curb
and never have left

Her new book, “Lobster: and other things I’m learning to love”, came out last month. It features her unique take on parenthood, breastfeeding, periods, UTIs and vulvas.

With love and care, 
Irene

📣 The First 1,000 Days is edited by community member and friend, Nabeelah Shabbir.

📷 Didssph on Unsplash, blue matrioskas

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