Weaning a Toddler - My $1000 Wake Up Call

At first I hated breastfeeding. I wasn't told how hard it would be. It hurt. My milk sprayed everywhere. My son couldn't get the latch down. I was miserable. I wanted to give up so many times. It was my husband who urged me to keep at it.
He said, "You're a warrior. You're doing the best thing for our son."
So, I did just that. I pushed on. I grit my teeth and forced myself to stay calm and helped our son latch properly. Once he did, (about three months later) everything relaxed and we were free to enjoy the intense bonding that we were promised.

When my son's first birthday came around, I asked his Pediatrician about weaning. Her answer was, if you both want to and are able to you can go for as long as you like. I took that to heart. My son is now three years old. He sleeps in his own bed at night without nursing to sleep, but nap time was always boob time.
I probably would never have stopped if I wasn't forced to. In the end it wasn't the doctors, or my husband or our son who pushed my hand. It was me. My body had betrayed me. I had low blood pressure, low blood sugar and I was anemic. All of my nutrients were going to the little milk my body was able to make and leaving me in starvation mode.
Even with two near fainting episodes only a few months a part, I still nursed. I forced more fluids and kept at it, telling myself that it was only once a day. How much damage can it really do? The answer: A lot.
One day, when I was home alone with my son I experienced such intense dizziness that I couldn't stand. My speech was slurred. The dizziness came and went, each time it returned was worse than the wave before it. Fearing that I would faint, or become unresponsive with more than five hours before my husband came home I did the only thing I could do.
I called 911.
The paramedics came (ka-ching $1000) and they checked me out and asked me questions about my health and my diet and my period. I also consulted with a nurse and a nutritionist and they all came to the same conclusion. The anemia mixed with the breastfeeding had caused me to become unstable.
Having a toddler to feed, I am careful to eat a mix of fruits and veggies and drink lots of water. Even while being carful, I couldn't take in enough for two. There was nothing I could do about the anemia. But there was something I could do about how my body retained nutrients. I had to stop breastfeeding.
Sometimes, I'm lucky and my son falls asleep in the car. He sleeps for anywhere between forty-five minutes and an hour and a half. It's enough for him to recharge. He wakes up and we go about the rest of our day. Other times though, we have to have nap time at home.
There's a lot of crying and pointing at my chest and demanding that I lift my shirt. I lay with him and speak soothingly to him and explain that I don't have any more milk. I'm the perfect picture of calm on the outside. On the inside though, emotions are rampaging. Every inch of me wants to give in and let him nurse, but I know that if I back down now, I'll forever be at my son's mercy.
No. As much as it breaks my heart to give up that closeness and to cause my son such distress, I know that I can't nurse anymore. It's my job as a mother to take care of my son. I feed and clothes him and bathe him and make him get vaccinated. That's my job. I'm his mom.
But as moms, we need to be careful that we don't let the task of caring for our families consume everything else. By concentrating on my family I had neglected one very important thing.
Myself.