When Your Baby Starts Letting Go

I wasn’t prepared for how emotional self weaning would be. At least not this time around. 

When my son was born, our breastfeeding journey lasted for two years. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that my daughter, Eris, would follow a similar path. Not because I expected her to be exactly like her brother, but because that’s what I knew.

Yet here we are.

In less than two months, our baby girl will be one year old.

Even writing that feels strange. Where did the time go?

It feels like just yesterday I was holding her for the first time, staring at her tiny fingers and wondering who she would become. Now she’s constantly on the move. Walking. Exploring. Climbing. Determined to discover every corner of the world around her.

These days, breastfeeding looks very different than it once did.

What used to be long nursing sessions has slowly turned into a quick two to five minute latch before she’s off to her next adventure. Some days she barely seems interested at all. There are moments when I offer and she simply looks at me as if she has more important things to do.

And honestly?

She probably does.

She’s transitioning from babyhood into toddlerhood.

She’s becoming her own little person. It’s so cute watching her. 

I know this is a natural part of development. I know self weaning is healthy. I know there is nothing wrong.

But knowing those things doesn’t make it any less emotional.

There is something incredibly special about breastfeeding. It isn’t just nourishment. It becomes part of your daily rhythm. It’s the quiet moments in the middle of the night. The cuddles. The comfort. The stillness in a season of life that otherwise feels chaotic.

For nearly a year, breastfeeding has been one of the few things that belonged only to us.

Now, little by little, she is letting it go.

And while part of me is proud of her independence, another part of me isn’t quite ready.

Motherhood is filled with these strange contradictions.

We spend months waiting for our babies to roll over, then crawl, then walk, then talk.

We celebrate every milestone.

At the same time, every milestone is also a goodbye. =( 

The last contact nap.

The last middle of the night feeding. 

The last time they reach for you before deciding they can do it themselves.

The difficult part is that we rarely recognize the “last” while we’re living it.

One day, they simply happen.

Maybe that’s why I’ve found myself feeling unexpectedly emotional these past few weeks. Because as Eris slowly self weans, I’m realizing this isn’t just about breastfeeding.

It’s about time.

It’s about how quickly children grow.

It’s about accepting that no matter how much we want to hold onto certain seasons, they were never meant to stay forever.

And perhaps that’s what makes them so beautiful.

So while part of me is sad, another part of me is grateful.

Grateful for every feeding.

Grateful for every cuddle.

Grateful for every sleepless night spent rocking her back to sleep.

Grateful that I was given the opportunity to experience this journey with her at all.

She may be letting go of breastfeeding, but she isn’t letting go of me.

She’s simply growing.

And what an incredible privilege it is to witness.

P.S. While Eris isn’t latching as frequently these days, our breastfeeding journey isn’t over just yet. I’ve been pumping, and thankfully we still have a supply of breast milk stored in the freezer. My goal is to continue providing her with breast milk through the end of 2026.

Even if she’s no longer interested in nursing as often, she still happily drinks breast milk from a straw cup. Motherhood has taught me that feeding journeys don’t always look the way we imagined they would, and that’s okay. Breastfeeding isn’t defined solely by latching. Providing expressed breast milk is also a form of breastfeeding, and I’m grateful that this is a path that continues to work for us as Eris transitions into toddlerhood.