Love, not child abuse
I just did what was best for my kids, but others disagreed...
Sitting on the sofa, I lifted my baby to my chest, and as I felt him latch on, the world melted away. The dishes in the sink stopped calling to be washed, the pile of dirty baby clothes seemed to vanish.
All that mattered in that moment was knowing that I was doing the best for my little boy.
When Chase had been born in October 2011,
I knew I wanted to breastfeed him if I could.
I had three older children, now all in their 20s, and I’d breastfed them all until they were 2 or 3.
I’d enjoyed the experience so much.
A chance to bond, mother and baby. A peaceful moment to cherish.
Thankfully, Chase took to it like a duck to water.
At six months, he started trying solids.
Mashed potato, fruit and veg. But he’d still want my milk, too.
And I wasn’t in a rush to wean him off my breast.
‘He’ll do it when he’s ready,’ I’d say whenever friends or family asked.
His first birthday came and went, as did his second. Around that time, Chase was diagnosed as being on the autistic spectrum.
He’d struggle in noisy environments, have meltdowns if things weren’t quite the way he expected them to be.
‘Come here,’ I’d soothe whenever I could tell he was struggling.
I’d hold him close so he couldn’t hurt himself, or others, and he’d nuzzle at my breast to calm down.
I’d use other tricks, too – distract him with a toy, or a bounce on his trampoline.
But my arms – and boobs – made him feel safe, familiar.
When Phoenix came along in January 2014, Chase, then 3, was still nursing.
‘Mum milk,’ he’d say, pointing to my boobs whenever he was peckish.
Usually it was in the morning when he woke up, and at night before bed.
Of course, Phoenix needed feeding throughout the day, too.
But as he got older, he also wanted to keep drinking breast milk, despite moving on to solids.
I didn’t see the harm. What could be more innocent than a mother feeding her kids?
But others disagreed. Once, in a shopping centre, the boys, then 5 and 2, were hungry.
And I could see Chase was on the verge of a meltdown.
Right there, in front of everyone.
As a single mum, I had to find the best and quickest way to manage the situation.
So, plonking myself on the floor, I got both boys to latch on, one boob each. Immediately, Chase’s body softened.
He relaxed, grew calmer.
Of course, I got funny looks, like always.
One day, not long afterwards, I was feeding the boys in a cafe, my back to everyone. Minding my own business. ‘That’s really disgusting,’ one woman hissed.
I ignored her. Knowing nothing good would come from arguing back with someone like that.
Yet, the really hateful comments came from people sitting behind computer screens. Being so well-practised with nursing, I’d become the admin of an online breastfeeding support group. Was always
posting tips and advice for my fellow mums.
And part of that was sharing my own experiences.
Even pics of me breastfeeding.
I knew I’d been lucky to find breastfeeding so easy and wanted to help others who struggled.
But some mums would whip themselves into a frenzy because I was still feeding my boys now they were no longer babies.
I lost count of the amount of times I was told I was committing child abuse, called a paedophile. It felt horrific.
How is it abusive to make sure my children are wellfed and happy? I’d think.
People even called me an ‘old hag’. Charming!
Accused me of doing it for me – even that I was getting off on it!
It was ridiculous, but more than that, it was hurtful.
No one would dream of being so cruel to a mum feeding a newborn.
Or insinuating what they were doing was in any way sexual.
At what age does a child have to be for that to suddenly change?
Most of the time, I’d just slam my laptop lid in frustration, others, I’d type out an indignant reply.
Plus the boys were healthy and strong. Their teeth were in perfect condition, they barely got sick. I was convinced it was down to the breast milk.
Chase, now 8, stopped nursing about a year ago, when he was 7.
One day, he got up, and instead of getting in bed with me for milk, he just went to play with his toys.
Phoenix continued for another few months, but after he turned 5, the exact same thing happened.
I felt so sad at first. Breastfeeding my boys was so special to me.
It created a bond between us like no other.
But I’m thankful both my sons love cuddles, so that’s how we make up for it.
I’m continuing to speak out in favour of breastfeeding because I don’t want other mums to feel as alone as I did. The wellbeing of our children is always our number-one priority.
So no one should be made to think twice about whipping their top up if their kids need milk – no matter how old they are.
To me, breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the world.
If others see it as a sexual act, then maybe it is them who have the problem.
It’s sad to think women and other mums are tearing each other down.
We should be celebrating motherhood and the brilliant job we all do.
My breasts kept my babies alive, and my children healthy and happy. So, if anything, I’m proud. I know I’ve done right by my boys.
And that’s all that really matters.
Some mums would whip themselves into a frenzy!