Breastfeeding: My Struggle and the Importance of Self-Compassion
Breastfeeding is a numbers game. We constantly measure how many ounces we pump, how many grams our baby gains. We are bombarded with conflicting advice – feed every two hours, no, every three; feed on demand, feed on a schedule. As a new mother, it was overwhelming to see my numbers falling short. I felt like I was failing.
My breastfeeding journey started with a difficult labor and an unplanned C-section. My baby was taken to the NICU for monitoring, and I watched as he was poked and prodded, his tiny body trembling. I brushed off his discomfort as normal newborn behavior, until I overheard the nurses whispering about my medication and its potential impact on him. The shame washed over me. I was already doing something wrong as a mother.
Even after we left the NICU and my baby showed no signs of withdrawal, the whispers about my antidepressants continued. Six weeks later, I found myself in a lactation consultant’s office, subjecting myself and my baby to a feeding drill. My son wasn’t gaining weight as expected, and despite all my efforts to increase my milk supply, we were still struggling. The whole experience felt humiliating, and all I heard was the word “failure.”
I had been taught to breastfeed using specific techniques and was told to use hospital-grade breast pumps around the clock. Formula was treated like a dirty word, and the pressure to breastfeed was undeniable. I tried everything – teas, supplements, pumping regimens – in a desperate attempt to provide my baby with breastmilk. But it didn’t work, and it led me into a deep postpartum depression.
I was trapped in a cycle of pumping, pressure, and shame for months. It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom that I realized something needed to change. I sought help, both medically and emotionally, and eventually made the decision to stop breastfeeding completely. It was a difficult choice, but it allowed me to finally enjoy motherhood and connect with my son in a way that I hadn’t been able to before.
Through my journey, I discovered the importance of self-compassion. I realized that loving my son doesn’t have to come at the expense of my own well-being. It’s okay to accept help, to prioritize my own needs and wants. Being the best mom for my son means making decisions that protect my own peace and happiness.
As World Breastfeeding Week approaches again, I reflect on my experience. I’ve learned that the images we see on social media don’t always represent the reality of breastfeeding. Motherhood is a personal journey, and we shouldn’t judge ourselves or others based on how we feed our babies. Formula is a viable option, and mothers who can’t exclusively breastfeed should never feel guilty.
I share my story in the hopes of encouraging other mothers to practice self-compassion and to let go of the pressure to achieve an impossible standard of perfection. Love for our children can take many forms, and sometimes it means making decisions that prioritize our own mental and emotional well-being. That’s what makes us the best moms we can be.