Breastfeeding My Nearly 4-Year-Old: Why I Chose to Continue

Sensing my little one beginning to move
feed from the breast for the first time
I experienced a significant feeling of relief.

Until now, I had experienced an overwhelming sense of defeat within me, entirely due to my lack of action.
birth experience
that I had expected.

However, now that my daughter started nursing, much (though certainly not all) of that anxiety subsided. I had accomplished what I’d always desired — breastfeeding my child.

I had no idea back then that, almost eight years and with my second child later, I would still be nursing.

It all seems so hazy from my oldest daughter’s perspective.
delivery
However, after waking up from the drug-induced slumber following the surgery a few hours later, I realized that I urgently needed to nourish her.

I contacted the midwife who assisted in adjusting her position so she could try feeding. The instant she latched onto my breast, I felt immense emotional relief.

People kept saying how fortunate I was that we both made it out fine, but it wasn’t until then that I allowed myself to start believing them.

Unfortunately, three days later I experienced a complication when my C-section incision reopened, and the doctor attributed this to me being a redhead who doesn’t heal well. Even now, I’m not sure of the validity of his statement, but at the time, I felt like a complete failure once more.

For an extended period, I harbored the belief that it was my fault things didn’t go as planned during the birth, and that I couldn’t heal because I was somehow at fault—this led me to cherish the sole bright spot: my baby’s constant desire to breastfeed.

Nursing made me feel like a superhero, as though I had succeeded at this ‘motherhood’ journey. For three continuous years, I persisted without stopping until my child was ready to wean off.

I understand that breastfeeding is a highly controversial topic—and I’m certain that my choice to continue nursing until she was three years old may appear “strange” to many individuals—but personally, I believe that as long as the baby is well-fed, they’ll be content, regardless of how long or through what method you choose to feed them.

When our second daughter came along in 2021, after having a far better birthing experience, I was glad to notice that she too readily accepted breastfeeding. It filled me with immense gratitude that she nursed so effectively, and once more, I was certain I would carry on as long as both she and I were comfortable with it.

Except, she is nearly
four years old now
And she has no intention of stopping.

I have attempted to seek support for this process before.

I visited my general practitioner to talk about what steps to take next, but before we begin, I want to say: ‘please don’t judge me,’ as I’m aware of how negatively extended breastfeeding beyond six months to a year is often viewed and how readily others share their opinions on this matter.

One time, when my little girl was around two years old, she requested feeding in the waiting area of a dental office. A lady across from me clicked her tongue and remarked, “Dear me, you’re still doing that?!”

I felt constantly scrutinized, so after she turned two, I opted to feed her exclusively at night.

Based on my experience, after giving birth, you’re constantly surrounded by midwives, doctors, nurses, healthcare providers, and lactation consultants who help ensure your newborn latches properly. However, once you navigate past those initial stages—or in my case, when I’m eager to move forward—I felt somewhat abandoned.

There isn’t any supporting system available there, nor guidance on how to cease feeding properly and safely.

Certainly, telling your three-year-old, “We have to stop now; Mummy’s milk is all gone,” may appear straightforward, yet it lacks the emotional backing needed following such an extended and cherished connection.

Although part of me realizes that ending things is necessary for both our well-being, particularly considering my age at 44, I find myself deeply saddened by this decision since she represents the final child I’ll ever have.

This fills me with jealousy towards all those mothers holding their babies close, nursing and cuddling them, realizing that experience will never be mine again.

I feel sad, lost, full of grief for the time I had like that, that went far too quick – despite at times, wanting it to because I was sleep deprived, or exhausted.

That’s probably why part of me hasn’t pushed my youngest to stop. It feels as though I could pause her, us, and this instant in time forever.

But, as the very kind GP said to me the other week, ‘it’s the hardest job in the world being a mother, we have to keep letting go, little by little and pushing them onto the next stage.’ And I know that’s what I will have to do, too.

I’ve already told my daughter that when she turns four, which coincides with starting Reception class at school later this year, we will stop breastfeeding since I’ll be out of milk by then—it just seems like an appropriate time. So far, she has been accepting of this plan.

When the moment arrives, it will certainly be challenging for both of us, yet I am incredibly pleased that I get to conclude this breastfeeding journey in my own way rather than succumbing to pressure.

When all is said and done, it’s my body, my baby, my decision.

Would you like to share a story? Reach out via email for more details.
jess.austin@Sazua.com.co.uk
.

Please share your opinions in the section for comments provided below.

Subscribe to Sazua.com’s The Slice newsletter for your go-to resource on all things happening in London, featuring reliable reviews, promotions, and contests.