During pregnancy, I knew for sure that breast milk is very helpful and I, of course, will breastfeed my baby. I didn’t think about the shape of the breast, or about the budget saved, it’s more useful and that’s the point. I did not think only about one thing: how much I will breastfeed.
I think the first months of feeding were not only for me, but for many people they became associated with pain. As the moment of feeding approached, fear instantly appeared on my face. Silicone nozzles did not help, sometimes even the opposite; bepanten did not cope with his task; I didn’t know what to do – it was enough just to endure, to endure to tears.
After about a couple of months, everything returned to normal: the pain, the cracks to the meat, are in the past. After entering the feeding, nothing has changed, hung on his chest when he wants. Until the year I did not control it, did not prohibit and did not refuse.
After the first birthday of my son, I began to think about the curvature of this already bored place.
He fell asleep solely with his chest, waking up at night, could throw a tantrum, if my grandmother came instead of me. Daytime attachments have become some kind of habit, sometimes I couldn’t even count how many times he came to me. He literally hung on his chest!
1 attempt or 1 loss
To begin with, I decided to disaccustom him from daily attachments. I had to tinker badly, it was enough for me somewhere for 3 days. It was very difficult to calm him down or to take him with something so that he forgot. In this regard, I thought: still small, and set aside for another half a year.
2 attempt or another defeat
Six months later, the baby became impressive in size and it seemed that he did not need breast milk, rather it was a habit. Having spent several evenings behind the Internet, I decided on brilliant green and mustard.
One evening we sat on the bed and I told how the tita was sick and that now it is impossible. The treatment was replaced by tantrums, the mood was gone, it sounds funny, but the child was depressed. The last one passed when, after 4 days, he came to me with a damp napkin and happily washed everything away.
To be honest, watching his decadent mood, I gave up, suffered another defeat.
In the end, I gave up and humbled myself, he ceased to attach himself during the day, night feedings decreased to 0-2 times.
At 2.6 we were given a place in the kindergarten, I did not tell anyone about the feeding from the caregivers. In the kindergarten, he did not remember about the chest, at night everything was as it should be. The son refused on his own in one day, about 3 years.
As the saying goes: All is well that ends well. At times it was hard both morally and physically. My places were lazy, sometimes mothers pity and was the reason for the long feeding.
I expect to feed the second child up to a year, then wean, I am no longer capable of such a feat.
How many babies did you feed, are there any long-term girls like us?) From girlfriends I sometimes heard stories about breastfeeding at 4, 5, 6 years … maybe, who had such cases? It would be very interesting to listen. I think not only me.