I weaned Sophia last week. It was a decision fraught with guilt (how could I deprive my child of nourishment and comfort?), exhaustion (waking up 2-6 times a night starts to get to you after 14 months) and desperation (trying to cope with my husband away during the week).

I think breastfeeding is great. It’s cheap, it’s convenient, it’s so good for the baby (and usually, mum) and for me, it was usually pretty easy.

Hugo, who was never as passionate about the boob as Sophia, weaned himself at 14 months. Sophia on the other hand, although she eats an extensive solids diet, showed no inclination towards breastfeeding less, even at this age. The first couple of days were hard (really hard) for us both but she settled into it much more quickly than I was expecting.

Given there are no more babies for us, I guess this is goodbye maternity bras, goodbye cracked nipples, goodbye exposing my poor girls to the freezing air in the middle of a winter night. It’s also goodbye to those special snuggly times, goodbye blissed-out milk drunk baby smiles, goodbye to being The One who provides her comfort and nourishment simultaneously.

I feel really lucky to have had the breastfeeding relationships I have with my children, both experiences were good ones. I am a little bit sad to see it ending, but also really excited to be moving onto a new phase in our life together (and especially loving sleeping through the night!).