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I'd always planned to nurse my daughter until she was at least 1, but I hadn't counted on her never losing interest. I knew of so many other children who had self-weaned, I'd always figured my girl would eventually lose interest on her own too.
But that was not my fate. By the time she turned 1, my daughter was a great eater but was still going strong in the nursing department. I didn't mind; it was sweet and oftentimes quite convenient. I could even get work done on the computer while she was attached.
After 18 months, though, I wanted my boobs back. Nursing was no longer a quiescent affair: squirming, flailing about, and kicking were the norm. Plus, my daughter had gotten so heavy that my lower back was starting to complain each time she nursed, which she still did about three times a day. I also hated that I never got a break from putting her down at night and for every nap (she had long ago rejected pumped milk from a bottle in favor of "that! that?!").
I began asking other moms who had successfully weaned what their secret was. For many of them, it was leaving town. Some of the trips were for business, some for other reasons, but in every case, when the mom got back, either the kid was no longer interested in breastfeeding or there was no more milk left.
As it happened, I had the opportunity for a six-day kid-free getaway right around this time. I cried as I drove off, worrying about how my baby (and my husband) would deal with this longest-ever absence. My only consolation was that at least my girl would be weaned at the end.
Or so I thought. The first problem was that I still had plenty of milk at the end of my trip. But the real zinger was that when my daughter saw me for the first time in a week, she (understandably) gave me the cold shoulder for a good couple of hours. It was heartbreaking. So when she finally let me hold her and kiss her, I couldn't bring myself to say no when, shortly thereafter, she tugged at my shirt and asked, "That? That?"
At 23 months, I was done. The weaning campaign officially launched. Distractions, novelty, and snacks were the key strategies. We rode buses recreationally, went on pre-dawn jaunts to the café for bagels, visited friends who had cool toys, and generally hopped from one stimulating activity to the next. All the while I would offer snacks and try to time her meals such that she'd never have an empty belly.
Progress was definitely happening -- sometimes she’d even forget about the morning feeding -- but we still had a long way to go, and I was getting tired and desperate. My mom suggested coating my nipples with something anti-thumb-sucking ointment, but I didn't have the heart; it just seemed mean.
It was then that I happened to bring up my weaning woes to a new friend. She shared a tip that had been given to her -- somewhat improbably, since she didn't have kids -- by a chance acquaintance whose wife was Japanese: All you do, she said, is draw a picture of an animal on your breast. It confuses and distracts the kid, and also lets you say things like, "Oh no, we don't want to hurt the cute little [child's favorite animal]."
The next morning, I happened to wake up on my own. I glanced at at the clock -- it was only a few minutes before my daughter usually awoke -- and noticed a black ballpoint pen
