22 months, 11 days
We finally weaned! Henry officially nursed for 22 months and 11 days. Way to go us!
When I was pregnant, our birthing instructor told us to just set little breastfeeding goals for ourselves. We shouldn't start out thinking we were going to breastfeed for a year, but start out hoping for a day, then a week, then six. That's exactly what I did.
We hit every goal I set. At one year, I don't think I was ready to stop. I was proud that we were still going strong. I did force Henry to wean quite a bit between 12 and 18 months in a failed attempt to help me get pregnant. But we hung on to our last session.
By 18 months though, I was done, DONE. Ugh, I've been so touched out. I dreaded nursing Henry for no particular reason. Nothing had changed, it wasn't something he was doing. I was just done. But then, in crept the guilt.
The thought of stopping for my own selfish indescribable reasons made me feel so guilty. Henry was clearly happy with the relationship. He didn't do anything, it wasn't his fault. The overwhelming guilt seriously forced me to clench my teeth and nurse no matter how I was physically feeling.
Even now, I can't totally explain the guilty feelings and why I had them. I very much feel like a toddler should be able to self-wean and by stopping, I was disrupting nature's course. But in the end, I called chicken and pulled away first. But this time, Henry didn't really care. He asked to nurse a couple times over the week since we've stopped, I said "your a big boy now" he responded "yeah, book?!" So, we read a book instead. There have been no tears, no tantrums, no fights. I truly think he was ready too.
I never planned to breastfeed this long, but I'm so glad we did. Seriously, go us!