19/05/2026
I’ve been breastfeeding for 19 months, and it’s one of the more psychologically complex things I’ve done. Most of the time, it feels so obviously right for both of us, and I’m so glad I pushed through the difficult phases early on to get here. Breastfeeding has changed as she’s changed — at different points it’s been food, drink, comfort, regulation, bonding and sleep. And it something I get a lot out of too.
But there are other moments where I feel the cost of it. I’m still feeding her at least 3 times a night. Then there’s the constant energy demand, the feeling that my body is still not quite my own, and feeling touched-out — especially now she loves to pinch my other ni**le in a really irritating way 🤬 In those moments, I catch myself planning an exit strategy.
So far, motherhood has confronted me again and again with experiences that resist clean narratives. I want to say that breastfeeding has been “incredible” or “magical”, but mostly it’s been very worthwhile with a shifting set of trade-offs, and a constant recalibration between my own needs and my child’s.
Breastfeeding feels strangely under-discussed, given both its obvious benefits and how physically and psychologically consuming it can be. It’s very “normal”, but also kind of invisible. Valued, yet poorly supported and massively under-researched. We know surprisingly little about the physiological effects of prolonged breastfeeding on female athletes. I still don’t have my normal cycle back, or my normal body composition, so it’s clearly still having a significant effect on my physiology.
Who knows how long I’ll keep it up. But for now I think the experience is still net positive for both of us — well, especially her 😂 — and somehow that’s always the most important thing, until it really can’t be.
Scroll for some stats/context on breastfeeding. Photo from .kille