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To Wean or Not to Wean
That Is the Question By Julie Van Eman
Most children go through a period in their young lives attached to a "lovey." For some, it's a blankie, stuffed bunny or maybe even a favorite binky. The significance of this object is such that it must be within certain proximity of their being at all times. Otherwise, meltdown occurs within the family unit, and all members present are put on "red alert" for the missing item.
For my darling Emma, it was my boobs. For every sad, lonely, bored, hurt, worried or tired moment she experienced, she promptly ran to Mama and groped for her "nip-bulls." Don't get me wrong; I truly loved nursing my brand-new baby girl. But when she turned 2, I knew we were going to have to take drastic measures for this to end.
I joked at her first birthday that instead of baking a special cake piled high with frosting adorned with a single candle perched right in the center, I was going to float a candle in a bowl of breast milk because Emma would be much happier with that. My prediction was correct. The painstaking teapot-shaped cake I stayed up all night decorating was merely glared at by the birthday girl boob addict.
By her second birthday, I had endured fondling and the flashing of unsuspecting bystanders for the last time. I was serious about kicking the habit. First, I tried what the experts say and cut out one regular nursing time. I figured that if I nixed the morning wake-up "nip-bull" call that by afternoon we would be too busy to want it then. To accomplish this, I did what every good mother does; I used bribery. If she didn't nurse, she could have three pieces of candy.
That worked for awhile – until all she ever wanted was three pieces of candy followed by a suck of milk. I tried letting her have just one side, hoping to get her down to none. When she got the hankering, she would walk around holding up one finger saying, "Just one, Mama? Just one?" That had some effect, but how could I get her to none?
What about the distraction game? It's the mother's saving grace in times of distress! "Let's play!" I'd say – at 6 a.m. "Let's read! Let's go watch an Elmo video! Let's go outside! Let's paint! Let's ... Let's ... Let's ... anything but nurse!" It seemed to be working, but only in the morning. By afternoon, she would catch on to my little ploy and want to get back to her game in the nursing chair.
Then I thought, "What if I just made it taste yucky?" You know, the ol' dip-their-thumb-in-vinegar-to-get-them-to-stop-sucking-it trick. Maybe it would work for me. So I doused my – well, you get the point. Emma's response? "Eww, yucky – suck, suck, suck."
OK, so what else could I try? I needed something to get Emma's attention, something she is sensitive to, something like boo-boos! She is so compassionate when someone has a boo-boo or bandage. Even her boo-boos get lots of her own kisses to make them better. My next move: bandages. I stuck them right where the drug of choice flowed.
The next time she pulled on my shirt to look for the goods – aghast! Mama had a boo-boo! Wouldn't you know, it worked! My compassionate, concerned child took to kissing Mama's boo-boos and saying, "I'm sorry," as if I had sustained a tragic mishap. She actually kicked the habit. Bandages saved me from insanity – just in time for my second breastfeeder to be born.
