Because you want to know and I love to talk about my boobs, here goes.
Before I ever got pregnant, I knew I would breastfeed my babies. It just seemed like that was what they were meant to do. I come from a family of breastfeeders; My Mom nursed me until I was 2 and a half, and was proud of the fact.
So I became pregnant, knew I was going to nurse, for a year. The next thing I knew, Mason was here 6 weeks early, and could not eat. Out the window went my dreams of having my brand new baby laid on my chest and breastfeeding immediately. I asked my nurse for a breastpump the minute I was taken to my hospital room from high-risk delivery. She replied, "Wait until morning." Now that I know better, I wish I wold have insisted, because I waited the extra 12 hours my milk took 4 days to come in. All this time, Mason was in the NICU where he remained until he was two weeks-old being tube-fed my breastmilk that I pumped every 2-3 hours. Once Mason was a little more stable, they let me try nursing him, but told me that 9 out of 10 babies learned to eat faster on a bottle. They told me the day he took a bottle, he was ready to go home. I was so confused! One nurse assured me, "If you really want to breastfeed him, it'll happen."
So, I took my bottle-fed baby home and decided I was going to do things my way. I began every feeding at the boob, and my husband would finish with a bottle of pumped milk. Once he began latching on, I took out one bottle each day. In less then two weeks time, he was exclusively on the boob. I had worked so hard for the breastfeeding to happen that I didn't want anything to ruin it. I didn't try to give him a bottle for 6 weeks, and by then it was too late, he would refuse and scream. But again I didn't care, I really wanted this. The weeks passed and my 5 lb 12 once boy turned into a chunk. I LOVED the fact that I was giving my boy everything he needed to live and not having to depend on anything else. I even has a pediatrician comment that he "couldn't believe that I didn't suppliment" (with formula) my 19.5 pound 7 month-old. Mason was fat and healthy, all because of me!
A year came and went and nursing was better than ever, we were a true team. I (my boobs) could put him to sleep, fix a boo-boo, or just refuel his emotional tank when he was over-stimulated. It was the easiest fix, why would I want to give it up. I couldn't help but get teary when we'd have our little time together in our special chair and Mason would look up at me, boob in mouth and give me the sweetest smile, as if to say, "mmmmmm...thanks Mom." Those moments were and are so powerful, They'll be with me forever.
So here we are today, Mason is 26 months and still nursing twice a day, before nap and bed. I am pretty sure he doesn't get much milk, but he still absolutely needs the "close time." I am not ready to take it away from him. I still believe that he'll stop when he is ready and doesn't need to nurse any more. Until then, my boobs will be ready. Even crazier, I have been concidering the thought of tandum nursing, if I need too, something I never concidered even a year ago. A lot changes when you have someone you'd do anything for counting on you!