Still breastfeeding after all of these years

Something has crept up on me in recent times, and it's been sitting at the back of my brain teasing me. "Go on. You know you want to blog about it. It's contentious. It's emotional. Go oooooonnnnnnnn. Do it!!" (It's an annoying little voice, isn't it? It's ok. You can say it. I think it's annoying too.)

You know me. Typically, I write about my day and the usual school / kinder / washing / vomit-related vignettes that seem to delineate my life at this point. Every so often, something exciting will happen like a party or a birthday or...I dunno, something good? The royal wedding? That was good. And um...how I found bananas at $9.99 a kilo?? Anyhoo...

I have been semi-thinking about tonight's topic for a little while, because it's something I do every day. You see, I am still breastfeeding. That's correct - the Mouse is still getting her special mummy cuddles twice a day, and she turned 16 months old on the weekend. And it would seem that I have unwittingly become part of a minority group (a bit like the time I stumbled into the queue for free AIDS testing in San Francisco...I thought they were lining up to be in a studio audience...)

Breastfeeding is a tricky topic at the best of times. No one knows how difficult it is to coordinate the shoving of an engorged breast into a teeny tiny newborn mouth, so that it is precisely positioned to necessitate the correct attachment, and then get the little blighter darling to suck properly, before they have actually attempted to do it. Breastfeeding a newborn in public is awkward for a few reasons, namely:
a) gawking strangers
b) continuously having to reposition the bub while spraying milk all over the nearest person and their steaming chai latte
c) gawking strangers who are offended by your exposed, engorged mammaries.

You don't need the pressure of the public eye to make feeding a newborn difficult - it's already a challenge and a half! But should you choose to persevere, eventually the mouth gets marginally bigger and more adept at latching on, and the boob becomes more manageable. And before you know it, you've been breastfeeding for a few months, and even though at home it's a piece of cake, in public...well...not so much.

Breastfeeding an older baby in public (and by older baby, I mean around 6 months old) can again be awkward due to:
a) gawking strangers
b) well-meaning strangers who politely enquire whether you've "considered" weaning
c) gawking strangers who are offended by your exposed, slightly deflated mammaries
.
And if, after the messy introduction of pureed solids, and finger foods, and drinkies from a cup, you continue to breastfeed your baby, you could very well find yourself feeding in between crawling and walking practice. Which is interesting enough, without wrangling yourself and your baby's wandering hands through a public feed.

Breastfeeding a baby approaching their first birthday in public can be very exceptionally awkward. You may encounter:
a) gawking strangers
b) people who have an expression on their face like, "Seriously? Like, that child has teeth? Just order it a steak already?"
c) People who feel free to comment on your exposed, flat mammaries, your baby who clearly is going to have emotional and developmental issues due to extended breastfeeding, and the fact you have put them off their lunch. (At least you didn't squirt in their latte this time...)

And funnily enough, once your baby has smeared their first birthday cake across their moosh and spat on the candle, most people assume that you have weaned your baby from the breast.

Now, before I continue, let me just clarify one thing: I am not a breastfeeding nazi. Yes, I fed Jack. Until he self-weaned, very abruptly, at the age of 10 months. Would I have persevered? Yes, absolutely, because feeding him had been hard-won, and well worth the effort. Did I breastfeed Phoebe? Yes. For five days. I saw every lactation consultant and midwife under the sun, but nobody could work out why my tiny daughter could not latch on, and how she had inflicted such terrible damage to me in a very short period of time. So Phoebe was bottle fed from the age of six days, while I healed, and expressed, and tried again, and again to feed her. Eventually, when she was six weeks old, I gave up. Maisie fed like a champion from day one, even with a stay in intensive care and a near-dead mother taken back to hospital. Yes, I wanted to feed her, but by this point I realised that the baby has the ultimate feeding decision.

So the Mouse and I have been enjoying our snuggles now for a year and four months. I know quite a few people have been a bit surprised by my continued lactation, and my apparent unwillingness to wean. To be truthful, I see no reason to stop. It's a lovely way to start the cold winter mornings, cuddling in bed and getting ten more minutes of quiet. I also love having her in my arms just before bedtime for half an hour of peace. Even if she doesn't nod off on the breast, she still pats me, and has little whispered conversations which are quite endearing! On the nights when I'm at puppy school, or if I just happen to be out when it's her bedtime, she curls up in Christian's lap and goes straight to sleep. So I don't have any worries about her being overly-dependent on me. And I don't think she'll breastfeed forever. But while she wants to do so, I am more than happy to indulge her.

I just find it completely fascinating that because I have continued to quietly breastfeed my child into toddlerhood, that all of a sudden I am an oddity. Never one to be afraid to feed in public (without flaunting myself at *ahem* gawking strangers), I would feel self-conscious if I were to do it out of my own home now. Which is sad, really, because I absolutely love breastfeeding my baby daughter. It's the one time of day I can pretend that she's not a running, stumbling, chattering toddler, but still my little baby. When Maisie is drinking quietly, dreamily waving a hand or even humming, it's a moment that cannot be described. She is so happy to be with me, and I with her. And I'm in no hurry to stop that special time together.

Don't get me wrong. I won't love Maisie any less when she weans. I won't feel rejected. I don't judge bottle-feeding mothers. I don't feel superior in any way, shape or form, simply because my boobs still produce milk. (Have I covered all possible forms of insult here?) I am just still breastfeeding, 16 months after birth, and apparently, that's unusual.

What do you think?