I was so consumed with the idea of breastfeeding that I lost touch with reality.
“You’re going to breastfeed, right?” This was the constant question I faced during my pregnancy. It wasn’t merely a query; it felt more like an accusation: “You don’t want to harm your child, do you?” Naturally, I was all in on the idea that “breast is best.” I became convinced that failing to breastfeed would mark me as a terrible mother, destined to watch my baby suffer from lifelong issues.
However, my aspirations of effortlessly providing my newborn with copious amounts of nutritious breast milk shattered during our first pediatrician visit when my baby was just four days old. The doctor informed me that she was diagnosed with “failure to thrive,” meaning she had lost weight and I was essentially starving her (!!!). I was already feeling like a maternal failure.
This was not the joyous start I envisioned for our new life together. Overwhelmed with anxiety, I declared it my mission to boost my milk supply at any cost. Having just given birth three days earlier, my emotional state was far from stable. My hormones were raging, I was sleep-deprived, and all I could focus on was my baby. While I begrudgingly supplemented with formula, I was determined to produce as much breast milk as possible from my seemingly inadequate breasts.
Everyone around me assured me that if I just put in more effort, I could make it happen and reclaim my status as a “worthy mother.” Here’s a glimpse of the lengths I went to in my quest:
- I spent $1,600 on four lactation consultants. Can you imagine how many brunches that could buy? Not only did they not help, but one even had the audacity to call me “brave” for not opting for breast augmentation. Seriously?
- I rented a hospital-grade pump and “power-pumped” every three hours, day and night. I pumped in front of my in-laws, in a moving car, and yes, even in the bathroom of a Chipotle. Exhausted from sleepless nights, I once fainted while pumping, leaving my nipples feeling like they’d been through a shredder (0/10, would not recommend).
- I tried every supplement imaginable—Fenugreek, Goat’s Rue, Blessed Thistle, you name it. All they did was make me even more constipated and smell like syrup.
- I indulged in all things lactation-related—Milk Makers Cookies, Milk Drunk Shakes, and Boobie Bars. They were tasty but did nothing to increase my milk supply. They did help me cope with my frustration, so that was a plus.
- I attended a weekly “Breastfeeding Support Group” run by a lactation consultant who banned the word “formula” (yes, really).
- I even resorted to a black market drug called “Domperidone,” which, while illegal in the U.S. due to serious health risks, promised to boost lactation. I had to buy it from a sketchy online pharmacy in Thailand. Did I mention it made me gain 25 pounds and could have potentially endangered my life?
- I experimented with a “supplemental nursing system,” which was basically a fancy tube taped to my nipple so my baby could drink both milk and formula. Unfortunately, my baby treated it like a straw, spilling most of the formula everywhere.
None of this worked. The uncomfortable truth was that my body simply didn’t produce enough milk. Months later, I was diagnosed with “Insufficient Glandular Tissue,” meaning I didn’t have enough of the actual tissue needed for milk production. Instead of being told to stop, the lactation consultant insisted I pump even more, insisting that any amount of breast milk was better than none.
Finally, my loving husband intervened. He was concerned about my health and our baby’s well-being. Though I felt devastated by the idea of giving up, I secretly felt relief. Letting go of that exhausting battle lifted a weight off my shoulders. I embraced formula feeding and found joy in motherhood once more.
Looking back, I realize I desperately needed someone to tell me it was okay to stop breastfeeding. That I could still be a good mom without it. If you find yourself in a similar spiral, let me be that voice for you: it’s perfectly fine to step back. Your happiness and mental health matter. Remember, fed is best. Cherish the moments with your baby. And hey, enjoy a glass of wine now that you’re no longer breastfeeding! Cheers!
For more insights, check out our post about home insemination kits, and don’t miss the resources available on Progyny’s blog for additional support during your journey into motherhood.
Summary
This article recounts a mother’s desperate attempts to increase her milk production, leading her to extreme measures, including black market drugs. It highlights the emotional toll of breastfeeding struggles and ultimately emphasizes the importance of mental health and self-care over societal pressures.
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