Breastfeeding. The End.

It’s with a heavy heart, but sadly not boobs, that I’ve had to stop breastfeeding. This is an unusually personal blog but I guess I just wanted to put it out there, to share, to help get some closure about the whole process. It’s a funny thing to have to give up when you aren’t ready, or don’t want to. But I needed to follow George’s lead and the angry screaming every time he went near the boob for a feed was enough to let me know that he just wasn’t  happy with it any longer

This time around it’s been sooo much harder. I managed 13 months with henners and it was relatively smooth going after the normal rough start. I feel like I’ve had a bumpy ride from the beginning with George, with tongue tie (you can read more about our tongue tie experience), mastitis, his weight loss & dramatic 4 centile chart drops (pediatric visits) advised formula top ups messing with my supply and the usual toddler related invasions and distractions. I think George was just ready for the free flowing, limitless supply of a bottle. It’s strange to realise the milk quality wasn’t as good as the first time around, despite being so recently.


I tried so hard to stimulate supply, 3 different breast pumps, skin to skin, time out with him when Stuart was around, subtly switching to the boob mid bottle feed, but at 8 months I just couldn’t keep up with what our little guy needed and he couldn’t bare to work his socks off to get the limited supply I could provide before finally getting the good stuff once we’d both admitted defeat with breastfeeding.

I know 8 months is still good going, etc etc etc. But I guess I just wasn’t given that decision to stop, to wean him off
Is it a selfish perspective? Yes, definitely! The ease of stumbling in eyes shut for those middle of the night feeds just popping him straight on, no making up a bottle in the night, not having to prepare anything for a day out or getting caught short not packing enough, the money and time saved.
Knowing that this is our last bubba that I would breastfeed, that needed me to survive, who was basically rejecting me – SOB! But none of these were for him, they were for me, for us, and I had to read his signals and give him what he needed. 


So time to look at the positives. The end of breastfeeding means;  

I can wear dresses in public! Yay!

Those vile maternity bras which I have basically been wearing for the past 3 and a half years (yikes!!!) can been buried deep under ground.

My body is my own again, although this may take some time to resume to it’s former self! (Some of my top products to help with that.)

No bitten nipples – yes this fecking hurts as much as it sounds.

No more flashing in public with a very active infant doing his best to flap about under unsubtle scarves.

Finally some hope of getting more than 2 hours solid sleep at night! 

No more breast pumping at work!


So there we have it. This chapter of our lives is over. As sad as it feels, (and I’m sure there’s some extra hormones flooding my body at the moment) it’s onwards and upwards and I’m grateful that I managed to have the experience with both boys as I know so many people struggle, and that they are both healthy and happy. 


is totally a personal decision and I’d never put any pressure on anyone to do so, especially as it is so hard in the early days, I was lucky that I was able to and everything worked out for us, I even felt like it was the lazier option if I’m honest! But time for the next chapter and for a happier and more contented little George!


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