A Bath of Breastmilk: A Weaning Story

Blog #13- 12/10/25

That milk had been sitting in the back of my freezer for months — well past its “safe to drink” date. Every time I opened the door, I’d see it and close the door again. I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it away.

Tonight, my girls had their usual bath — giggling, splashing, the occasional drinking of bath water. Except this time, there was something different.
Three bags of frozen breastmilk swirled around in the water. The last of it.

That milk had been sitting in the back of my freezer for months — well past its “safe to drink” date. Every time I opened the door, I’d see it and close the door again. I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it away. It sounds silly, maybe, but it felt like more than just milk. It was a chapter of my motherhood I wasn’t ready to end.

My partner noticed it today and said gently, “Surely this can come out now.”
And he was right. So, into the bath it went — not wasted, not discarded, but given one last purpose. A little ritual of goodbye.

The Long Goodbye

I’m still breastfeeding, but we’re down to one feed before bed. I know it’s coming to an end soon. This stage — the letting go — is complicated and emotional.
It’s deeply desired on my part, yet still hard to surrender.

When I think back to my first daughter, our journey ended beautifully: her last breastfeed was the night of her second birthday. I’d met my goal, two years exactly, and it felt like a full-circle moment.

With my second, I wanted the same — and we might still get there. But the path has looked very different. She’s more attached in some ways, less in others. I thought weaning her would be easier, but it’s not often things go as we expect. A mantra of mine has been “it’s ok for my breastfeeding goals to change”, one that I think is important not only for myself but many other mothers.

The Reasons We Stop

Each time I’ve weaned, there’s been more to it than “it just happened.”
The first time, I was pregnant again and breastfeeding with hyperemesis gravidarum — not for the faint-hearted. This time, I’m making changes to my medication — shifting antidepressants and beginning ADHD medication — and I need a clear picture of what my body and mind are doing without breastfeeding hormones in the mix, and the meds that have been recommended are not suitable for breastfeeding.

I’m lucky, in a way. I have made sure I have the luxury of time to do this slowly. Many mothers don’t. And even still, that luxury has definitely caused my mental health to take a hit in the process.

The Void of Support

It strikes me how much guidance there is about starting breastfeeding (though still far too little)— and how minimal there is about ending it.
When you search online, you get vague advice: “Drop one feed at a time.”
But what if your child feeds on demand? What if you don’t even know how many feeds you have in a day? What about the tears, the tantrums, the biting, the pinching, the guilt?

The truth is, weaning is as unique as every mother-baby pair. There’s no single right way — but that doesn’t mean we should be left to navigate it alone.

Just because something can’t be standardised doesn’t mean it deserves silence.

Sometimes, what a mother needs most during weaning is not a “how to,” but a someone.
Someone to see her.
To listen.
To acknowledge that this is hard and layered and worthy of care.

A Simple Act of Care

That’s what I keep coming back to — the simple, human need to be seen.
We’re all moving through life’s many transitions — birth, weaning, menopause, loss, separation — and yet so often, we do it in isolation.

Offering someone care, presence, or curiosity isn’t complicated. You don’t need special training to ask, “How are you, really?”

It’s the smallest gestures that often mean the most.

So tonight, as my girls splashed in the milky water, I felt a quiet mix of grief and gratitude.
This is the closing of one chapter, the slow turning of a page.
A letting go, but also — a continuation.
Because the nourishment that began with my body has always been more than milk.
And that, we’ll carry with us forever.

What rituals and practices have you leant on in your weaning experience/s? Or which are you looking forward to implementing down the track?

There’s no right way to do these things, their complicated and messy. Whatever your experience, I hope you are deeply supported, seen, and heard during your weaning journey.

And if you’re looking for someone to chat to about it, whether it is to seek practical advice, or to just talk about what’s coming up for you, I’m here, please reach out.

Big love,

Rach.