Motherhood, oh, it’s a funny thing. Something I always looked forward to, especially the beautiful experience of breastfeeding, but it turned out to be quite different from what I expected. Breastfeeding has brought its own set of surprises and hurdles, ones I never could have anticipated.
My first pregnancy went fairly smoothly, and I was filled with excitement to meet my little man. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality that awaited when I brought him home. Breastfeeding, was one aspect I thought would be easy. In the hospital, all I heard was “breast is best.” Little did I know that my journey would be both amusing and somewhat awkward.
Still numb from the epidural, I had a midwife and two student midwives come in to help me feed my son. However, Noah wasn’t interested in feeding at that point, so instead, they proceeded to milk one of my breasts, even encouraging my husband to get involved in the process. Yes, you read that right. It’s a memory I now find both funny and intrusive. A new mum, unsure of what she was doing, being milked by four people—it’s quite the sight.
Breastfeeding turned out to be challenging for me. My milk supply didn’t come through as expected, and I wasn’t producing enough when I left the hospital. It was a shock, and I didn’t realise in the first week that my son wasn’t getting enough milk. I assumed his frequent feeding was just cluster feeding, as they told me. It wasn’t until he had to be hospitalised for jaundice that I realised there was a problem. The guilt consumed me. How could I not have known that he wasn’t getting enough milk? I blamed myself for his hospitalisation, thinking that if I had been more knowledgeable or intuitive about breastfeeding, he wouldn’t have ended up in that situation.
The lactation consultant at the children’s hospital was far more understanding than the one I had encountered earlier. She didn’t push breastfeeding on me but instead reassured me that it was okay and that fed was best. I had to diligently pump every two hours to increase my milk supply and help him gain weight. Eventually, when we headed home from the hospital, we decided to incorporate mixed feeding, but I was determined to continue breastfeeding. After everything I had seen and heard, I felt that not breastfeeding would be failing him. It felt like the only path I should take as a woman, as a mother.
And so, the cycle began: breastfeed, top-up feed, pump, repeat. Those became my days, and pumping became a constant companion. I tried lactation cookies, medications, and everything in my power to increase my milk supply, but nothing seemed to work. It wasn’t until my six-week check-up at the pediatrician’s office that I received a game-changing revelation. The pediatrician looked at me and said, “It’s okay. You can stop now. You’ve done your best, and the best thing for both of you is that he is fed.” Those words felt like permission to ease up on myself. I continued for a few more weeks, gradually transitioning to formula feeding. In that moment, I felt like nobody truly understood what I was going through on my breastfeeding journey. I felt like a failure, and the support I needed seemed elusive.
Looking back, it’s evident that the messaging around breastfeeding, although well-intentioned, didn’t adequately prepare me for the challenges I would face. The hospital discharge felt rushed, as if everything was fine and I had it all figured out. Even my local GP, whom I saw for breastfeeding issues, though a fellow mum, echoed the “breast is best” mantra without fully acknowledging alternative options. At the time, it felt like breastfeeding was my only choice, and the weight of that expectation burdened me. Irrational as it may seem now, I believed that not breastfeeding would hinder my child’s nutrition, happiness, and overall well-being.
“It’s okay to feel lonely sometimes. Just remember that you are a strong and capable woman, and you can get through this.”
I can’t help but think that it would have been helpful to have been presented with all possible scenarios right from the beginning. To have heard that it’s okay if my milk doesn’t come through, that it’s okay if breastfeeding doesn’t work out. That knowledge could have spared me much anguish. That pivotal moment at the six-week check-up, when the pediatrician told me it was okay to stop, stands out in my memory. Apart from my husband, she was the first person to give me permission to explore alternatives. Realistically, continuing down the path of breastfeeding was taking its toll on me. It was draining my spirit and overshadowing the precious time I wanted to spend with my child. It wasn’t the kind of experience I had envisioned for the first few weeks of motherhood. In retrospect, it was quite lonely.
I still remember the conversations my husband and I had. He reassured me, telling me it was okay to give our son formula. He could see the toll it was taking on me, physically and emotionally. But I was fixated on the idea that not breastfeeding meant I wasn’t being a good mother—that I was a failure. Looking back, I believe this was the breaking point that contributed to my postpartum depression and anxiety. The lofty expectations I placed on myself continued to haunt me throughout my first year of motherhood.
“There is no one right way to feed your baby. Every mother and baby is different, and what works for one family may not work for another. The most important thing is to do what is best for you and your baby.”
La Leche League
When I had my second child, I made sure to be better prepared. I acknowledged that my milk might not come through as expected and adjusted my expectations accordingly. Throughout my pregnancy, I was upfront with the midwives about my previous breastfeeding journey and expressed my desire to be prepared for different possibilities. I sought the guidance of a lactation consultant, invested in a different breast pump, and researched formula options. When my second child arrived, and my milk supply again fell short, I was able to get ahead of it and ensure my baby was well fed.
If you’re reading this and going through a similar experience, I want you to know that it’s okay. You need to do what’s best for you and your child. Trust me when I say that in the grand scheme of things, no one will ask whether your child was breastfed or formula-fed when they’re grown. The only thing that truly matters is that you provide them with love, care, and nourishment. I understand the feelings of loneliness and failure that can accompany such a journey, but remember, you are strong. You will get through this, and your child will thrive with your love and dedication, regardless of the feeding method. Seek support, reach out to understanding professionals, and give yourself permission to prioritise your own well-being. You are not alone, and there is a community ready to offer assistance and comfort along the way.
Helpful Resources
- Australian Breastfeeding Association: Your go-to resource for all things breastfeeding in Australia. Find support, advice, and a community of moms to help you on your breastfeeding journey.
- Fed is Best: A supportive platform promoting a balanced approach to infant feeding. Discover evidence-based information, resources, and stories to empower you in making the best feeding choices for your baby.
- PANDA: (Perinatal Anxiety & Depression Australia): Providing vital support and resources for moms and families experiencing perinatal anxiety and depression. Find information, helpline services, and a network of understanding professionals to help you navigate this challenging time.
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