When Breastfeeding Becomes Everyone’s Business (Except Yours)

A response to the bizarre claim that feeding your child is “selfish”

The other day I saw a reel doing the rounds. A woman, confidently and almost proudly, saying that breastfeeding a three-year-old is selfish. That it damages children emotionally. That it ruins future attachment. That it’s an addiction. And not to be outdone, someone else chimed in on the radio saying that breastfeeding limits a woman’s freedom.

I didn’t share the reel. I have no interest in giving it more oxygen. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either. Because once again, the parenting police are out, wagging fingers and diagnosing harm where there is none.

Let’s just sit with how ridiculous that is.

You give birth. You bleed. You don’t sleep for weeks. You feed a tiny human with your body. You carry their weight on your hip, your mind, your soul. And then someone, usually someone not doing any of the heavy lifting, tells you you’re doing too much. That you’re too attached. Too nurturing. Too into it. As if loving your child past the first birthday is somehow pathological.

It’s laughable. Except it’s not funny. Because these kinds of comments don’t exist in isolation. They carry shame. They carry judgment. And worst of all, they land hardest on the people already stretched thin.

There is nothing abnormal about breastfeeding a toddler or even a young child. The World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding up to two years and beyond. Not because it’s sentimental. Because it’s good for the child. And for the mother.

This isn’t just about modern science or medical advice. Even in the Quran, breastfeeding is recognised as a natural and protected act. Surah Al-Baqarah, verse 233, states:

"Mothers shall suckle their children for two whole years; that is for those who wish to complete the suckling. The father is responsible for providing for them and clothing them in a just manner. No soul is to be charged with more than it can bear. No mother shall be made to suffer because of her child, nor a father because of his child. And upon the father's heir is incumbent the like of that which was incumbent on the father. If they both desire to wean the child by mutual consent and consultation, it is no sin for them."

There’s dignity and balance in that verse. There’s consent. There’s shared responsibility. And there’s an understanding that feeding a child is not something shameful. It’s something honoured.

Breast milk doesn’t lose its value after 12 months. It still offers immune protection, nutritional benefits, and comfort. For some children, breastfeeding is a safe harbour. For others, it’s a way to regulate emotion, to reconnect during a difficult moment, or simply to wind down at the end of the day. That isn’t addiction. That’s biology. And it’s attachment. The good kind.

Certain people love to praise independence in babies as if it’s a moral goal. As if needing a parent is a sign of weakness. But dependence is the foundation of human development. It’s not the opposite of independence. It’s what leads to it.

When a child knows they can return to a trusted base, they’re more willing to explore the world. That base might be a hug. It might be a lap. It might be a breast. And it’s no one else’s business.

Some people will say, “But it limits the mother’s freedom.” Freedom isn’t one-size-fits-all. For some women, breastfeeding feels freeing. It allows them to feed their child anywhere, anytime. It creates autonomy. It builds confidence. For others, it may feel restrictive. And that’s valid too. But the point is this. Women should be free to choose. Without interference. Without mockery. Without being told their instincts are selfish or unnatural.

There’s also a darker undercurrent in these comments. This idea that once a child reaches a certain age, a mother’s care must be dialled back. The message is: pull away. Detach. Don’t be too present. Don’t be too soft. Don’t meet every need.

Why? Why do we make mothers feel like they're spoiling their kids just by loving them in the way that comes naturally?

The truth is, what unsettles people isn’t the act of breastfeeding. It’s the visibility of it. It’s the fact that a mother would continue to take up space in that way. That she would trust herself. That she would meet her child’s needs without waiting for permission.

And when that happens, it threatens a lot of deeply held nonsense. That mothering should be quiet. That women should be selfless but not too selfless. That a child’s emotional life is fine as long as it’s tidy.

It all boils down to control. And control dressed up as concern is still control.

We also need to say this. Many women don’t breastfeed beyond infancy. Some can’t. Some don’t want to. Some stop earlier because it’s what works best for their family. That’s fine. There’s no hierarchy of parenting here. But what isn’t fine is throwing mothers under the bus for simply choosing something you don’t understand or wouldn’t do yourself.

The need to comment on another woman’s body, her breasts, her baby, it’s invasive. And it’s outdated. We don’t ask dads when they’re planning to stop cuddling their kids. We don’t accuse fathers of being selfish for continuing to show affection. We don’t say they’re limiting their freedom by playing catch in the garden. But somehow a mum with a nursing toddler gets psychoanalyzed by strangers at the bus stop.

Parenting is already hard. Everyone is trying to make the right call with what they’ve got. So the last thing we need is performative concern disguised as moral superiority.

To the mother breastfeeding a three-year-old on the couch at night while her toddler twirls her hair and whispers stories between feeds, you’re not selfish. You’re not addicted. You’re not damaging your child. You’re showing up in the most human way possible. You are enough.

To the mother who chose not to breastfeed, or couldn’t, or stopped when it no longer felt right, you are enough too.

And to anyone who thinks their discomfort is a reason to critique someone else’s care, maybe take a pause. You don’t have to understand a choice to respect it. You just have to stop talking over the people who are living it.

And maybe, instead of tearing mothers down for staying close, we could ask why we’re so afraid of closeness in the first place.

Paradise is under the feet of mothers.
Even when those feet are pacing the kitchen at 2 a.m. with a feeding child in their arms.

Let them be.