I have breastfed my daughter on trains, in cafes, in parks and at fashion shows. When she was tiny, people generally melted and smiled and cooed. But when she was tall enough to climb onto my lap and ask for milk in a full sentence? The atmosphere changed.

In fact, plenty of people felt it shocking and even shameful. I breastfed my daughter up to the age of three and no matter how often I insisted that it was easier for me and better for her, I was often judged and made fun of.

Once, a breastfeeding photo I posted on Instagram went viral and the comments flooded in, mostly from men, joking they could not tell if the baby was six or 16. But there were women too, saying things like ‘stay classy’ or just ‘disturbing’.

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Not even the globally famous are immune to this kind of sexist mockery. Look at the eldest Kardashian sister, Kourtney, 46.

Only last week she spoke about practising ‘attachment parenting’ with her youngest son, Rocky, who’s two, including breastfeeding on demand.

She also co-sleeps and holds him throughout his lengthy naps. To be fair, most mums would draw the line at that level of physical attachment but if it works for her, who are we to criticise?

And the criticism has been vicious, with insults such as ‘insane’ and ‘crazy’ levelled at her. Even her sister Khloe has questioned her choices on a podcast.

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To me, that says about our attitudes to mothers and breasts than it does about parenting.

Like Kourtney, I was – and am – an ‘older’ mother. I had my daughter in 2016, at the age of 40, and earlier this year, I had my second child, a boy, at 49.

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For me, attachment parenting has never felt extreme. Breastfeeding for years, co-sleeping with my three-month-old – it all feels like the most natural, practical, loving thing I can do as a mother. I accept I am a rarity. Around eight in ten new mothers in the UK start breastfeeding their babies. But within a few weeks that figure halves. By six months only about a third of babies are having any breast milk at all and by their first birthday it is down to roughly one in 200. Breastfeeding a three-year- old is so unusual, there are no figures to be found at all.

Why do we hate it so much? I vividly remember the reaction of one older man in a cafe as I fed my little girl while sitting at an adjacent table. He rolled his eyes and tutted rudely.

The reason, I fully believe, was because they felt uncomfortable with breasts having any function beyond a sexual one. They were embarrassed on my behalf, as if I should be ashamed of giving my daughter comfort and nutrition in the way humans have always done. This most natural thing they felt was unnatural when a child reached a certain size.

But the I watched how secure and content my daughter was with my feeding her, the easier it became to tune out everyone else.

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I began to explain, politely, that it actually gave me freedom, not less. It meant I was spared the tyranny of bottles, kettles and tiny tubs of puree that so many of my mum friends had to grapple with.

And of course there are the health benefits. Study after study has shown that breastfeeding helps support a baby’s immune system, reduces the risk of infections and is linked with lower rates of sudden infant death syndrome and childhood obesity.

It also offers protection for mothers, including a reduced risk of breast and ovarian cancer.

Besides, how could I ignore something so deeply instinctive? My baby cried, I picked her up. She wanted to be close, I kept her close. I was listening to my nervous system than any manual.

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In fact, we were barely apart –even when I was at work. For many women, going back to the office is the crunch point, when the pressure is on to return to ‘normal’ life. But my job as beauty and style director at Marie Claire meant very often she came along for the ride.

On paper, of course, this is a world of red carpet looks and glamorous launch parties – hardly the place you’d expect to see a baby attached to a breast. But thanks to a very accommodating boss, my toddler was often on my hip as I directed shoots.

I remember once asking the photographer to pause his work with a major A-lister while I got my daughter to quickly latch on. Thankfully no one batted an eyelid – or not in front of me.

I took her to Los Angeles on a shoot with Gucci Beauty, to Lanzarote with Dolce & Gabbana Beauty, to Mauritius and Sri Lanka for dreamy photo-shoots. It was not always seamless or stress-free but, for me, her presence was never up for debate.

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She was a toddler when her father and I decided to amicably separate. As a solo parent, attachment parenting was not an abstract philosophy, but a practical necessity.

Life was easier if my daughter simply came along to parties and dinners rather than being endlessly dropped off with sitters or my mother. Yes I was a beauty editor with a child on her shoulder as well as a designer handbag.

Of course I had to turn down that free glass of champagne and leave a bit earlier than I might have liked. But I have rarely missed an opportunity to network simply because I was a mother. In August this year I had my son, Wolfgang, on my own, after making the very deliberate decision to become a solo mum.

Wolfgang and I co-sleep because that means I get rest and I feed on demand because that means I don’t have to faff with bottles and sterilising equipment at three in the morning. Keeping him close reduces the constant logistics of childcare handovers.

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And yes, my plan is to let him wean when he is ready, not when a stranger in a restaurant thinks he should.

I’m aware that from the outside all of this can look very intense. I know some people reading will think it’s ‘too much’, that we are ‘too attached’, that I am ‘too available’ or ‘too devoted’. But to me it feels like parenting on my own terms.

With a nine-year-old at school and three-month-old at home in the Cotswolds, I try to be compassionate, consistent and gently disciplined, all while still having some balance left in my own life. If I see friends in the evening they understand I will bring Wolfgang and sometimes my daughter.

I love the work of the author and psychotherapist Gabor Mate, who believes children do best when they are deeply attached to their parents, rather than led by peers (or social media for that matter) as their main emotional anchor.

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The I read of him, the I realise his ideas simply confirm what my gut has known all along – that children thrive on connection. With my son, I have used breast milk in creative ways too. When he had a gunky eye as a tiny baby, I squeezed in a few drops of milk. I have also dripped a little milk up their snotty noses when they are bunged up.

I always check in with a GP or health visitor if I am worried. I am not pretending breast milk replaces proper medical care but in our house it is often the first medicine we reach for.

It is, after all, the most miraculous substance. Breast milk changes when your child is ill. Studies have shown that when a baby or mother has an infection, the level of immune cells and protective proteins in milk increases.

Your baby’s saliva can even flow back into the nipple during feeding and effectively tell the breast what bugs are around, which then prompts the milk to ramp up its protective powers.

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In simple terms, when your child gets sick, your milk can become a kind of personalised medicine.

Whether it is luck, genetics or all those years of breastfeeding, my daughter rarely seems to catch a cold.

Of course, I know that breastfeeding is not every woman’s choice. And I certainly do not think that if you bottlefeed you are failing. I just do not think breastfeeding an older child should be a taboo.

Because in the end, the most radical thing I have done is not breastfeeding a three-year-old – it is refusing to apologise for loving my children in the way that feels most natural to me, even when the world tells me I should be weaning, stepping back and letting go.

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Just like Kourtney Kardashian and two-year-old Rocky, I will only do that when they are ready. Until then, I will be right here, all the time, holding them close.