I weaned R right before we left for the US (so in mid-December, when she was almost 22 months old). Now she's been NOT nursing for almost two months, and it's become the new normal.
I always intended to breastfeed if at all possible, ideally for a year (per the AAP recommendation on the subject). My reasons were because of the extremely strong benefits to the baby (both physically and psychologically). I know that often people argue that these benefits either don't exist, or are not that impressive: but they are incorrect. Any objective review of the evidence will clearly show otherwise.
I never really loved breastfeeding. I was certainly lucky: I never really had significant health or supply problems, not even the fairly common complications of mastitis or thrush. It was a bit difficult and painful at first (bleeding blisters on my nipples=totally not awesome), but honestly it was just the to-be-expected learning curve of doing something new and relatively physically complex for the first time. Learning to ride a bike was harder, for me.
But it never filled me with joy or wonder either. I did think that it helped me to bond with R, but I always had a pretty matter-of-fact, functional attitude about it. For me, 90% of our feeds were kind of boring (I was never really able to multitask while feeding her, both because it made me terribly sleepy and because I am kind of clumsy, so had to concentrate fully in order not to drop/smother R). Generally my mind would wander as she nursed, onto my chore list or what I'd read last or other mundane topics. It was a lot more like changing diapers than some sort of emotionally transcendent experience.
Once R was a year, and my self-appointed deadline was up, I continued to breastfeed because 1. she still seemed to be getting benefits from it (a view generally borne out by the available scientific evidence); and 2. it wasn't much of a commitment anymore (by that point, I only fed her in private, at certain times, so that it didn't impact my daily routine that much). I told myself that I would wean her by two (the age recommended by the World Health Organization).
But then, rather suddenly, I was DONE. It irritated me more and more to breastfeed her. While I'd always found it boring, I began to feel grumpy and put-upon every time I fed her, counting the minutes until she finished. I felt tired of having my breasts reassigned to industrial/productive uses, of not having total ownership of my body, of leaking milk (which always made me feel gross), of being bound so intimately to another human being (because just as the baby needs its breastfeeding mother in order to live, the mother needs to feed the baby if she doesn't want to be in pain: it's a symbiotic relationship).
So I decided to wean her. At this point, she usually only ate twice a day, so I started by cutting out one. After a week, I stopped altogether. R protested slightly (by crying), but I just told her calmly that she was a big girl now and didn't need to nurse anymore. If she was thirsty, she could have water (I began always placing a full water bottle in her crib). I thought that she would object more, but actually she accepted it quite calmly, not crying after the first two days (and after the first week or ten days, did not even ask to nurse).
I didn't have any engorgement or other problems upon ceasing, because I had done it gradually. Much to my surprise (and displeasure), though, my breasts continued to produce small amounts of milk for weeks (months, really) afterwards. They still produce a tiny bit when squeezed, though for the most part they are back to normal (in terms of size, shape and softness: when nursing they were much firmer). I am glad, because I very much disliked my increased breast size (since I am already fairly busty, having even bigger ones was not attractive IMO).
I am glad breastfeeding is over. It is a big commitment, not just in terms of time spent (which is considerable, especially at first), but psychologically. If you are breastfeeding, your irreplaceability is very obvious, which is a great burden (not to say that non-breastfeeding mothers are replaceable, but it's easier to ignore the fact and fool yourself; viz all the people saying that their children are just as happy with their childcare providers as with their parents).
Breastfeeding was also hard sexually/emotionally. It considerably reduced my sex drive, and made sex less pleasurable for me (though I still enjoyed sex, and our frequency didn't change significantly). I disliked having my breasts touched (or even looked at, I began keeping my bra on during sex generally speaking), because it just reminded me of R (NOT sexy). It made it more difficult for me to step out of my "mother" role (especially because if you are breastfeeding, when you are sexually excited you tend to start leaking milk). Luckily for me, B was very supportive. I can imagine, though, that the reaction of one's husband must be a prime motivator in terms of breastfeeding: unless he is especially supportive, or nurturing of his child, a father's interests are fundamentally anti-breastfeeding.
I am still glad I did it: and if I had more children, I would breastfeed them as well. But I do understand why bottle feeding is so popular, and honestly can't blame anyone for making that decision. Breastfeeding is obviously superior in every way for children: but mothers are people too, and their welfare and happiness are also important. Sometimes the decisions you make as a parent will privilege your needs/desires above your children's, and that is OK.