On the very first day of lockdown, my son spent the entire day nursing. He was 22 months old, and I thought, oh no.
I had initially aimed to breastfeed for a year—maybe 18 months at the most. This plan was partly influenced by the release of a book I co-authored, set to launch in mid-2020, which would require me to travel without my son for several days. It also stemmed from the understanding that breastfeeding is demanding work, and I wanted to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
However, by the time he turned a year, it was clear that he wasn’t ready to stop nursing, and surprisingly, neither was I. He had started eating solid foods, so nursing wasn’t an all-day affair, but my outlook on breastfeeding had shifted significantly. What I once viewed as an obligation began to feel like an empowering and even political act. I was claiming my role as a food producer, making nourishment from my body! I was engaging in a bold reproductive choice that, after my baby turned one, seemed to defy societal norms.
Yet, by 22 months, I craved a night off. I longed for the days when I could indulge in my long-expired edibles and fantasized about sleeping in without interruption when my son woke up at 6 am.
A couple of months before quarantine began, I had cautiously started to wean him. One morning, he even forgot to ask for milk, which brought on a whirlwind of emotions. I excitedly called a friend, saying, “I think he’s beginning to wean himself!” to which she replied, “Congratudolences!”
Then the pandemic hit. Our normal routine—where my toddler attended daycare two days a week and spent three days with my parents—vanished. Now he was home 24/7, and all he wanted to do was nurse.
During that first week, he was thrilled with the situation.
“Want to play with blocks?”
“No! I wanna nurse!”
“How about a bath?”
“Bath is silly! Nursing, nursing!”
“Maybe let’s look out the window?”
“I don’t like windows! Nuuuurrrrssse!!!”
Over the next couple of months, he fell back into old habits—nursing for comfort and solace. This was largely due to the fact that we were together all the time, but also because there were few distractions, especially in the early weeks when we weren’t sure if it was safe to even go outside for a walk.
I felt frustrated. While I knew there were many benefits to breastfeeding a toddler and felt privileged to have that choice—many parents do not—I wondered how I could possibly embark on my long-dreamed-of book tour while working from home with a child constantly attached to me. And those edibles! When would I finally be able to enjoy them?
Gradually, my reasons to wean began to fade. It became clear that the 2020 book tour would be virtual. I learned how to create a barrier when working, so my son wouldn’t associate my presence with “mama milk.” Soon, I discovered how to say, “You can’t nurse now, but you can later!” in a cheerful tone that would help him wait a couple of hours. The allure of edibles alone wasn’t enough to justify weaning him, especially since nursing releases its own delightful chemicals. Did I really want to sacrifice that blissful oxytocin for THC?
As I accepted the reality that I might be breastfeeding longer than I’d intended, my worries about weaning started to dissipate. With no book tour or work conflicts, there was no rush to stop, as long as we both chose to continue. On days when I wasn’t working, I began to appreciate his requests to nurse; in a chaotic world, those moments became precious downtime. It was hard to get up while nursing, so I allowed myself to truly relax. Eventually, I even found myself checking my phone behind his head less often.
Breastfeeding has taught me the value of patience. While it may seem like doing nothing, nursing is hard work—transforming your body into a source of nourishment, exhausting you even as you sit still. But the true labor lies in the waiting.
This concept applies to parenting in general. Many tasks—like keeping an eye on a toddler eating to prevent choking or monitoring their movements at the beach—might appear to be effortless to outsiders, yet they are essential to the role.
During these pandemic times, the ability to wait has become crucial for everyone, parents and non-parents alike. While the wait for COVID numbers to decline or for a vaccine sounds much more urgent than the wait for a toddler to finish nursing, the skill still translates. I’ve always struggled with taking a breath and embracing stillness, but my toddler’s ongoing nursing has provided me with daily lessons in the art of patience.
Now, over a year has passed since I set aside my weaning attempts, and my child’s third birthday is approaching. Will I stop? Will there be a designated cutoff date? Will he naturally lose interest when he starts preschool, and waiting is no longer a central part of his or my life?
I have no answers. But for now, I’ll take a cue from the past year and remind myself that I can’t control everything. I’ll allow these questions to simmer, breathe out, and see where this journey leads us.
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Summary
In this reflective piece, Laura Bennett shares her unexpected journey of breastfeeding her toddler during the pandemic. Initially planning to wean her child before he turned two, the lockdown altered her plans entirely. Instead of feeling burdened by nursing, she learned to appreciate the moments of connection and comfort it provided during such uncertain times. As she navigated the challenges of motherhood amidst a global crisis, she discovered the importance of patience and the value of allowing things to unfold naturally.
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