MY YOUNGER son Lucien turns a year old this week and, believe me, nobody is more thrilled than I am.

A year - five hundred, twenty- five thousand, six hundred minutes, as the song from Rent goes - is the magical number that I set for myself when I started breastfeeding Lucien at birth.

While the World Health Organisation advises exclusive breastfeeding for infants for the first six months, with continued breastfeeding alongside solid foods up to age two years or beyond, it is sometimes tough for mothers to stick to this recommendation. I had weaned my elder son Julian, now four, around the time of his first birthday. So I felt it was only fair that I provided Lucien with breastmilk for at least the same amount of time.

Lucien's first birthday, then, is a milestone for me, in that I have finally reached my goal. The question now: Should I stop breastfeeding?

With deadlines for my master's coursework looming, and my part-time work schedule, I am away from home more often, and express milk only once or twice a day. As a result, my milk supply has decreased. Lucien now has several feeds of formula milk a day, in between meals of porridge. It is an arrangement that is working out, so far, for all of us.

Why am I still vacillating? Weaning, like breastfeeding, is a personal yet fraught decision.

The modern mum is constantly pulled in two directions: The positive feelings from the making of superior nutrients to feed one's child, and the desire to have her boobs back.

I admit, the ability to produce milk makes me feel like a superwoman. It's a power that only the female has, and which woman in her right mind would want to give that up?

Expressing milk at all hours of the day, however, is another story. I know mothers who have developed back and neck aches from sitting immobile or contorting into all sorts of positions, just to get their milk to flow. Hand cramps are not unusual. For the past year, I never left home for extended periods without my trusty Medela breast pump in a cheery yellow bag.

Without it, I run the danger of bursting or overflowing with milk when I'm away from my baby. I am lucky in that my pumping bag is small and handy.

Some mums carry big, black haversacks around with their pumping paraphernalia - bad for their backs, not to mention their fashion sense.

Then, there are the frantic searches for private spots to pump in, when you're out; tearing yourself away from your desk to go to the mothers' room, on stressful work days.

With Julian, now a hyperactive 41/2-year-old, the decision to wean had been made for me.

I collapsed one day, after a gallstone lodged itself in one of my liver's ducts, causing a potentially fatal bile blockage. Doped up with painkillers and antibiotics, I had to stop breastfeeding my boy, for several weeks.

A breastfeeding mother who has to stop nursing her child temporarily can prevent her milk from drying up, by the "pump and dump" method (expressing the drug-tainted milk and throwing it away). But I was too weak to do that, after keyhole surgery to remove my gall bladder.

Six months after weaning Julian, however, I had this crazy idea that I could get my milk supply going again. After expressing for what seemed like hours, I managed to get less than 5ml of liquid. I knew when I was beat, and duly gave up.

I have heard of mothers who breastfeed their children until they are six years old. I admire them for their patience and staying power, but I doubt I am made of such stern stuff.

Meanwhile, Lucien's birthday is not until Thursday. The milk bar's still open - while stocks last.

For more my paper stories click here.