No One Prepared Me for How Emotional Weaning My Toddler Would Be

Before becoming a mother, my identity had been tied to my career as an international businesswoman during the dot-com boom. After a series of setbacks in 2001, I spent several hard years figuring out who I was outside of that identity. During that time, I traveled to Beijing for a friend’s wedding, where I met my future husband. A year later, I moved to Paris. We married, and shortly after, I found out I was pregnant.

I had my son just after turning 40. As an older mom, I wanted to give myself fully to motherhood, since I felt he might be my only child. He was one of those babies who refused every bottle, and we had a drawer full of different nipples to prove it. Since I wasn’t working and loved the nurturing connection breastfeeding gave us, I didn’t mind. I breastfed him exclusively at first and continued nursing him for a long time.

As soon as I found out I was pregnant, and throughout our time in France, I joined and was a member of an English-speaking mom group in Paris, Message, and I found a lot of support there. In France, I found that women don’t breastfeed very long because the culture places emphasis on women getting their pre-baby bodies back and “the couple” bond. Once the baby is born, the social infrastructure steps in and babies become part of the social system, the social fabric. The health of the couple and their relationship takes priority over mother-baby bonding. There was even a popular book, written by a fellow New Yorker — a friend of a friend, whom I met in Paris — that espoused the wonderful, read “better,” ways that Parisian women bring up their babies. I was an outlier, not because I disagreed with the contents of the book, but because I didn’t always think it was the best way. And I didn’t have an American perspective either, really, since this was my first baby and I wasn’t around family or friends who’d had children before me.

This is where I think about that “motherly instinct” so often talked and written about. I was amazed—I had it, too. My instinct was to breastfeed him from his first day. I did not think about when we would stop. I had no timeline in mind and no intention of stopping until we were ready.

After his first year, I began to introduce soft foods based on what was recommended. I went the natural route of pureeing sweet potatoes, peas, and all the other wonderfully rich foods recommended to begin feeding a baby. And he did a good job with all the new flavors and textures. Having read literature espousing the benefits of breastmilk for infants’ and toddlers’ health, immune system, and nurturing, we also continued breastfeeding as part of our routine, and as a comfort.

The pressure to wean my toddler

With each passing month after he turned 2, I began to feel more societal pressure and to wonder what our weaning transition would look like. I did not really want to stop, but as he got older, I heard more frequent comments from my husband, mother-in-law, and other family members: “You’re still breastfeeding him?” I would offer a vague, noncommittal response. Every few months, my husband and I seemed to repeat the same refrain: “I’ll stop in [fill in the blank] months.”

There was plenty of help for starting breastfeeding—but little for ending it. I reached out to different communities within Message and attended La Leche League meetings. I found plenty of support for beginning breastfeeding—latching, supply, and other challenges—but articles or pamphlets on weaning were rare. I found a few pamphlet-style books for children, but they did not look like what I was searching for.

Frustrated by the lack of information, especially for an older toddler who could understand that something was changing, I decided to write the book I wished existed for my son. But before I could write it, I had to go through weaning ourselves. I could not finish the story until I knew how ours ended.

My carefully organized weaning plan

Since I had no books to show him, and I wasn’t even sure how to explain something so complex around growing up, not needing “mama’s milk,” and other thoughts like “I need my body back,” and I’m tired too! So, I relied on my motherly intuition, my mother-instinct, and trusted the process I set out for us. I showed him a calendar of the whole month. And I said, we’ll start this month with every day, just like we always do. But the next month, as I showed him the calendar, we will skip one day. And we put a sticker on that day as a little visual marker and reward. Then the third month, we will skip two days (and get two stickers). And so on, until we either phased out of breastfeeding, or he felt he didn’t need it anymore. I loved my plan because it was linear and organized.

But linear and organized doesn’t always work in life, nor with toddlers. It was hard for both of us at times. There were times he didn’t understand why I wasn’t as available, and I realized I was in a panic by not being available. He was frustrated at times. And then I experienced something that I didn’t anticipate-guilt mixed with grief. It hit me hard, and I was at a loss on what to do. It felt like the right time for me. But if I tried to gently say, “just a little,” he looked sad and upset. I felt cruel by taking away something that brought him, and me, so much comfort, familiarity, and love.

And yet, I also felt relief for getting a little bit more of my body, my self, back for me. As an exclusive breastfeeding mommy, there were times I wished I could have given my husband the bottle as an option. It felt good to be able to be just a little freer in those moments. There were also times I gave in because I did not have the heart to say no. Then, little by little and day by day, after two months of trial and error, we found our path. I offered him all my love and plenty of hugs as we figured it out together.

What I wish I had known about weaning

Was it the best path? It is hard to say now. He is a bright, well-adjusted young man with a great sense of humor and the ability to fit in wherever he is. Do I wish I had breastfed longer? Yes, I do. I was happy with my plan, but I wish I had relaxed more into my intuition and allowed our weaning to unfold over the time it needed. Why did I feel I had to stick so rigidly to the plan once I had made it?

It wasn’t the first time my rigidity had worked against me. I wish I had trusted that the process did not need to happen on my timeline—or anyone else’s. In an ideal world, perhaps it would have happened entirely on his. Did I do it perfectly? Honestly, I think it was as perfect as it could have been for who I was at the time—and for my son.

Of course, having more support and resources around this equally important moment for women who are breastfeeding is essential. There was plenty of material on the benefits of breastfeeding back in 2010, but I was also seeking it out. Today, there are more resources online, in clinics, websites, podcasts, social media, books, newspapers, and more. I still find that while there are powerful movements, efforts, and materials around starting and maintaining breastfeeding. I still think there could be more on the weaning from breastfeeding topic. I’m heartened to see so many websites and books about #babyledweaning (so much so that, yes, it’s got it’s own #hashtag series). But for such a sensitive topic of weaning your baby in a way that’s attuned to each baby’s needs and mother’s mindset, there could be so much more to support that emotional journey. Because weaning a toddler isn’t about the nutrition as much as it’s about the connection, the routine, and the nurturing that is as much a benefit as the nutritional value.

I am heartened to see so much information about baby-led weaning from food. But weaning from breastfeeding is its own sensitive transition, one that has to account for a child’s needs and a mother’s emotional state. For us, by toddlerhood, weaning felt less about nutrition and more about connection, routine, and nurturing. Families deserve more support for that emotional journey.

Our bond changed, but it did not end

As my son and I moved through weaning, my identity as a mother shifted, too. From the instant he was born, I felt that electric connection so many mothers describe. It was as though we were fused together in a way I had never experienced. I was completely focused on my baby and amazed by how often I instinctively knew what to do.

With each transition, I learned more about myself as a mother and as a woman. Through my son, I learned how to mother. It happened through laughter and play, trips to parks and museums, and every new milestone—crawling, walking, running, riding a bicycle, and, yes, weaning. This was our journey. Like every relationship between a mother and child, it was unique. Every weaning journey is, too.

Now, living in the United States many years later, my son is about to begin his senior year of high school, and I find myself thinking about this next transition. I return to the same trust and faith that carried me then: that I gave him the nurturing and care he needed, and that we will continue to find our way together, each on our own path.