On the very first day of sheltering in place, my son nursed constantly. He was 22 months old, and I thought, oh no. I had intended to breastfeed for a year—18 months at the most. This plan was partly influenced by the release of a book I co-authored set for mid-2020, which would require me to travel without him for days at a time. Additionally, breastfeeding is a significant commitment, and I wanted to know when the end was in sight.
However, by the time he reached a year, it was clear he was not ready to stop, and surprisingly, I wasn’t either. Although he was eating solid food and nursing wasn’t an hourly occurrence, my perspective on breastfeeding had transformed. What I once viewed as an obligation began to feel more like a shared experience, an empowering and even political act. I was actively participating in the nourishment of my child, which, after he turned one, felt like a choice that went against societal norms!
Yet, by 22 months, I craved a night off. I longed for the long-expired marijuana edibles I had tucked away, dreaming about sleeping in without interruptions from my son’s early morning calls for milk.
Just a couple of months before the quarantine started, I had begun the process of weaning him. One morning, he even forgot to ask for milk upon waking, stirring a mix of emotions inside me. I excitedly called a doula friend to share the news, to which she replied, “Congratudolences!”
Then, the pandemic struck. Our routine—where my toddler had spent two days at daycare and three with my parents—was upended. He was now home with me all day, and he wanted to nurse non-stop.
During that first week, he thought he had hit the jackpot.
“Want to play with blocks?”
“No! I wanna nurse!”
“How about a bath?”
“Bath is silly! Nursing, nursing!”
“Maybe we could look out the window?”
“I don’t like windows! Nuuuurrrrssse!!!”
In the following months, he slipped back into old habits—nursing for comfort, rest, and solace. This was partly due to our constant presence at home and the limited options for entertainment, especially in those early weeks when we were uncertain about the safety of even going for a walk. Being under two, he couldn’t keep a mask on without trying to chew it.
I felt despair. While I recognized the benefits of breastfeeding a toddler and acknowledged my privilege to choose it—many parents lack that option—I struggled with the thought of how to conduct the book tour I had envisioned before becoming a parent. How could I get anything done with a child who was constantly attached to me? And those edibles! When would I finally indulge in them?
But soon, my reasons for weaning began to diminish. It became clear that the 2020 book tour would be virtual. I learned to create a workspace away from my son, so he wouldn’t associate my presence with nursing. Eventually, I discovered how to say, “You can’t nurse now, but you can nurse later!” in a cheerful tone that made him more likely to wait. The edibles alone didn’t seem like a justifiable reason to stop nursing, especially since breastfeeding provided its own delightful chemicals.
I found that nursing became essential as we navigated the pandemic. It served as a means of soothing, calming, preparing for naps, and most importantly, it allowed me to check my phone discreetly while he nursed. Breastfeeding wasn’t merely a burden; it became a practical strategy for coping during those uncertain times.
As I accepted that our nursing journey might extend beyond my original timeline, my anxieties about weaning faded. With no book tour and no work conflicts, I felt no rush to stop nursing as long as we both agreed to continue. On days when I wasn’t working, I began to look forward to his requests for milk; those moments became a precious opportunity for relaxation amidst the chaos of the world. Eventually, I even found myself checking my phone behind his head less frequently.
In a way, breastfeeding taught me patience. It’s not that nursing is idle; it’s hard work! Your body transforms into a source of nourishment, exhausting you even while you sit still. But the real effort lies in the waiting.
This notion of waiting extends to parenting as a whole. Some of the most critical tasks—watching a toddler to prevent choking on food or ensuring they don’t wander into dangerous waters—might seem effortless to an outsider. Yet, they are fundamental to effective parenting.
During these pandemic times, the skill of waiting has become increasingly vital for everyone, parents and non-parents alike. Of course, the urgent wait for COVID numbers to decline or for a vaccine isn’t comparable to the much lower-stakes wait for a child to finish a nursing session. However, the principle remains the same. I’ve often struggled to breathe slowly and embrace stillness, but my toddler’s continued nursing has provided daily lessons in the art of patience.
Now, over a year has passed since I abandoned my weaning efforts, and my child’s third birthday is approaching. Am I going to stop? Set a definitive end date? Will he naturally lose interest when he begins preschool, and waiting and stillness are no longer predominant in our lives? I have no idea. For now, I’ll take a cue from the past year and remind myself that not everything can be planned. I’ll let these questions simmer, breathe out, and see where this wait leads us.
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Summary
The author shared her journey of breastfeeding during the pandemic, initially planning to wean her son before he turned two. As the pandemic changed her routine and confined them at home together, she found comfort and practicality in continuing to nurse. Embracing the unexpected, she learned valuable lessons in patience and the importance of allowing things to unfold naturally.
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