Disclaimer…I’ve not even read the article yet. I refuse to buy into the sensationalism and purchase a copy. I will read it at my place of employment when it arrives…for free. However, I have read the online interview with the mom, Jamie Lynn Grumet. I was pleasantly surprised. Well said, Jamie. I think you put your thoughts out there quite nicely. If anyone is offended, it’s on them, not you.

On to the topic at hand.

At first when I saw this cover, I cringed, as in, “Good God. Here we go again. All us stereotyped hippie dippy wanna be’s from a bygone era, now currently dubbed ‘granola’ or ‘crunchy’, exposing how we raise our kids to the world at large. Great.” Then I got to thinking.

I got to thinking how I nursed my first-born until she was nearly five years old. And I told not a soul (okay, wait…I told my BFF and that’s it!). I was in the closet about how nursing my preschooler provided her comfort and security at a vulnerable time in her life. She had a new baby brother and her father and I were on the outs. (The way way way outs, the last hurrah, the final chapter, just to paint a picture).

Let me backup.

She had weaned while I was midway through my pregnancy with her brother. But upon his arrival, things changed. That sweet daughter of mine lost her shit, basically. She was no longer so sweet, loving, and kind but rather mean, bratty, and jealous. She was hurting.

Despite my best efforts, try as I may, nothing soothed her sad little soul until one day I thought to un-wean her around the age of three. I cringed at the idea then did it anyway. And a crazy thing happened. My sweet daughter began to reappear. She became more loving and accepting of her brother and our life improved. I was able to show her love, security, and comfort where my words had failed.

But I kept this in the closet.

I had been given enough grief in my motherhood path about lots of choices I made. I was on trial many a time for birthing at home, not vaccinating, and keeping my son’s penis as it was at birth. To open up the can of “I’m breastfeeding my three-year old again” worms was not a discussion I wanted to get into or validate. So I didn’t.

Outside of my teeny tiny homebirth circle of acquaintances (who all lived an hour away), I knew of no one who was breastfeeding their child beyond one year let alone into their child’s third birthday or beyond. How was I supposed to start that discussion and feel like everything would be hunky dory and everyone would sympathetically understand?

The answer? I wasn’t.

So I didn’t.

Until this week…when I saw the cover of Time magazine. There was me, five years ago, breastfeeding my three-year old (many are questioning the age of this child but for the sake of argument and because I just don’t want to go there, let’s just go with it…he’s three). Except there she was, Jamie, showing the whole of the globe that she breastfeeds her three-year old. I had told or showed no one, but rather holed up in my home in a suburb of Cleveland.

Huh.

If she can stand there and look like that (and not a damn person should fault her for looking great), I sure as shoot can officially come out of the “I nursed a child until she was nearly five years old” closet and be done with it.

So now hear this: I nursed my first-born until she was almost five years old. I nursed my second until he was three. I am currently nursing my two-year old and will continue to do so for as long as she pleases. Thank you.

So regardless of what the article is about, regardless if the headline is insulting or insinuating or continuing the mommy wars, I just want to say “Thank you” to Jamie.

Dear Jamie,

Thank you for having the guts to stand there and politely and tactfully show the world how you live your life. You have inspired me to no longer be afraid to let the world know that I too live my life like you. Thank you for giving me the guts to do so. I applaud you.

Your Bosom Buddy,

Kiki La Roo