Everywhere it says that after one year a child no longer needs milk, because they eat everything, can drink water, and can switch to whatever milk is consumed in the household.
Ok.
And everywhere it also says that it is good to breastfeed until at least 2 years, or beyond.
My question is not whether it is possible to go without breast milk after one year.
But whether the child needs it enough for the effort to be worth it.
When people say that a child “no longer needs it,” most of the time they are referring strictly to nutrition. If the child eats well, they no longer depend on milk for calories or growth. That part is fairly clear.
Biologically, however, I honestly believe the need exists for much longer, maybe until 6–7 years old (I know, it sounds exaggerated). Not in the sense of food, but in terms of regulation, attachment, and an still immature nervous system.
Emotionally, this seems to me to be the most sensitive period. Separation anxiety reaches a peak here, and teething adds constant stress. All of these overlap at a time when the child seems to need a great deal of co-regulation.
When I talk about sleep, I am not referring to the promise that “after one year they sleep better.”
In my case, “better” meant an increase in average sleep time of 30 minutes. After a year of very fragmented sleep, the difference exists, but it is small.
Breastfeeding is still paid for with my nighttime sleep, which remains interrupted.
I think this is where the big confusion lies. The recommendation “until at least 2 years” does not mean mandatory, regardless of cost.
And the fact that a child “no longer needs it” does not mean that breastfeeding no longer has value.
Perhaps the real question is not whether the child still needs it, but how much of this need can be supported without the mother becoming completely exhausted.
A few days ago, I had a patient who told me she breastfed until one year, then had to stop lactation because of a hormonal treatment. She told me she loved every moment of breastfeeding, including the sleepless nights, and that if she could have, she would certainly have continued until at least 2 years.
I asked her how the child reacted after lactation stopped. She told me that there was simply no more milk, she no longer smelled like milk, and the child adapted. She gave formula for a few months.
Initially, the idea seemed very good to me. I was almost ready to stop at the pharmacy on my way home.
Two to three days later, R developed a fever. At first I thought it was due to teething, since several teeth had erupted at once around the age of one, but the fever was too high and only went down temporarily with ibuprofen. It was clearly something else.
I ran viral tests and they came back positive for influenza B. He was already apathetic, did not want food, stayed only in my arms and at the breast. He did not want water either.
With the confirmed diagnosis of influenza B, I administered oseltamivir, dosed according to his weight, diluted in 0.5 ml of breast milk. For one day and one night he was apathetic, did not eat, and stayed almost constantly at the breast.
The next day, the fever disappeared completely. Without paracetamol. I gave only one more dose of the antiviral, just to be safe.
Influenza B was very aggressive this year. Many parents struggled for days with fever, and some children were hospitalized. R recovered in one day. He was only slightly more apathetic and stayed more in my arms, at the breast.
The areola has receptors that detect the baby’s saliva. They detect temperature, bacteria, viruses, the lack of certain minerals, and adapt the composition of the milk based on this information. The milk can cool down or warm up, and its content changes to offer the child exactly what they need in that moment.
This mechanism cannot currently be reproduced. To me, it is magic.
That night, with the fever, staying awake and watching over him, I realized how lucky I am to be able to offer him breast milk. How much it helps him and how it keeps him on an optimal line, both biologically and mentally, during a critical period of anxiety around the age of one.
During that time, my husband was everything I needed in order to be constantly close to R. He ordered food, brought medications, and did everything that was needed around me. And not only then, when R was sick, but since he was born and up to now.
Breastfeeding is not a solitary act. It is supported or sabotaged by context.
With such support, it would be hypocritical of me to stop breastfeeding.
So I decided to continue. At least until a year and a half. If my mind can handle it, maybe even until 2 years.
Not as a rule. Not as a recommendation.
But as a decision that is right for us, now.
