Bye bye boobies | Weaning my toddler
Today marks one week since the Stuntman had his last breastfeed.
A whole week.
For the last few months I wondered if we’d ever get to this point. I was having visions of breastfeeding in the car before dropping him off at school, and the Little Britain ‘bitty’ sketch played heavily on my mind.
A bloody long time.
A freakishly long time, if you’d have asked me a few years ago.
But right now, it feels like a flash in the pan, like a matter of seconds.
Like I blinked and missed it.
Because I do miss it. I miss him. Quite desperately if I’m honest.
Despite the fact that he’s still right here, still all over me, still my one and only boy.
I miss him.
I miss the feel of his little hand tickling at my waist, while the other wanders over my chest, plucking at my skin, fiddling with my hair.
I miss the feel of his heart beat, synched up to mine, marking the time as it passes between us.
I miss the look of pure bliss that would cross his face as he received that first hit of milk, eyes rolling back, tense little body relaxing. I miss the little humming noise he made, and the way he stared into my eyes with that look of absolute adoration.
I didn’t really have a plan to wean him right now. My plan was always to let him decide when he was ready, whenever that may be. I’ve been following the ‘never offer but never refuse’ line for about a year, and kind of decided that when he stopped asking for it, that would be it.
But that day never came – he kept asking for it every morning, every night, and often several times during the day as well.
But then last weekend Mr McD and I had an overnight date night, and when we got back the next day the Stuntman didn’t ask for boobies.
I was a bit put out to be honest. I felt a bit rejected.
We had a busy day with shopping and a party and lots of driving, and he didn’t ask for boobies once, and then fell asleep in the car and transferred (miracle upon miracles) easily into bed without waking.
By that stage it’d been 48 hours without asking for boobies.
For me that was the figurative line in the sand.
The next morning he came into our bed and snuggled into me saying “Mummy! Luff you mummy! Peas may have boobies in mummy’s bed?”
Peas may have. Can you even?? How could you refuse that?
But I did. For the first time in his life I said no. No boobies. Boobies are all finished.
“Nooooo! They’re not! Boobies right there! Want boobies. MY boobies!”
Giving in would’ve been easier. It was much harder to say no than to say yes. But I said no.
“Boobies all gone darling. There’s nothing left in the boobies.”
He looked heartbroken.
“Nooo! There IS! LOOK! Milk in there! Boobies THERE! RIGHT THERE!
But after a cuddle from daddy, a bottle of oat milk and some Dora on Netflix he seemed to forget about the boobies.
So much for me, huh? If he’d pushed a little harder I’m sure I would’ve caved.
But it’s now been a whole week of no boobies.
He does still ask me each morning and just before bedtime – “Mummy boobies on the sofa? Mummy boobies on the red chair?” – but I just gently say “no boobies, boobies are finished,” and he seems to accept it, albeit begrudgingly.
“I say bye bye boobies? I cuddle boobies?”
Yes my baby. Bye bye boobies.
Now I just have to accept it.
What’s your best weaning tip?
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