Papaya Mom

Sien Nursing Baby by Vincent van Gogh

She weaned. Of her own loving accord, naturally, at a developmentally appropriate age. Twenty two months is about average for child-led weaning and I’m happy that she gave me the gift of needing me this long. She’s healthy and happy and secure in her connection to both me and her father. Contrary to silly ideas in American culture I don’t think she’s going to grow up with any abnormal expectation of breasts (or pinching) for comfort past her childhood and honestly, it annoys me when it’s implicated that following a child’s lead in this area is going to make them strange.

This Dr. Sears snipit is helping me:
Weaning is not a negative term, nor is it something that you do to a child. Weaning is a journey from one relationship to another. The Hebrew word for wean is gamal, meaning “to ripen.” In ancient times, when children were breastfed until two or three years of age, it was a joyous occasion when a child weaned. It meant the child was filled with the basic tools of the earlier stages of development and secure and ready to enter the next stage of development. A child who is weaned before his time may show anger, aggression, habitual tantrum-like behavior, anxious attachment to caregivers, and an inability to form deep and intimate relationships. We call these traits diseases of premature weaning.

So, in a few months when I’ve lost the last of the “baby” (read: lazy) weight and my boobs have decided their future position on the trunk of my body, I’l buy new bras and panties. Matching of course. I’ll still cuddle my baby, my former *tear* nursling, my little love at bedtime and whenever else she needs me. I did not push her off my breast, rather she walked away when she was ready for this new phase of her life. My little baby is growing up into a little girl.

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