Why Breastfeeding Didn't Work For Me

I have to admit I’m writing this for my own healing first and foremost, because writing is how I process things, but I do hope that it might also offer some support to anybody else in a similar place.

Just over seven weeks ago our beautiful Sophia was born. I will share our birth story another day (it’s LONG) but after keeping us waiting for a while she decided to join us on 29th September.

Within a few hours of her coming earth-side I had managed to get her to latch on to my breast, the midwives were happy, and I was elated that I was ‘nailing it’ at breastfeeding already. It had been something I worried wouldn’t come that easily, and I was desperate to do it for as long as possible, so after a pretty tough birth where not much went to ‘plan’, it felt like I was going to get the gift of finding breastfeeding relatively straightforward.

It was uncomfortable, but everyone I spoke to talked about the toe curling first few weeks, so I didn’t think anything more of it. We managed a few days of muddling through, we even had our family round and I was confidently feeding in front of them.

I thought that was the hardest part over.

As the time went on over the next few days, and as the postpartum hormones kicked in, I felt myself spiraling into a dark place, while also being consumed with agonising pain every time I fed her.

My nipples started to blister and bleed, and every time she fed she damaged them even more. I was in so much pain that I could barely hold my baby because if she brushed against my breast I would cry.

I STARTED TO DREAD HER WAKING UP BECAUSE I KNEW SHE WOULD FEED, AND ON THE OTHER SIDE I WAS CONSUMED WITH GUILT OVER NOT WANTING TO FEED MY BABY.

I continued to try feeding her, but my own tension was transferring to her and she was getting upset and anxious too. I decided to ask for help and hired an amazing lactation consultant to come round and help me. She was amazing and while she was there things looked brighter.

We worked on techniques and I felt more confident again. Then later that day when Sophia was screaming and getting frustrated, I once again crumbled into this dark place.

I WAS TORN BETWEEN DESPERATELY WANTING TO PERSEVERE, AND REALLY WISHING I DIDN’T HAVE TO DO IT.

The day before the milk came in Sophia had lost 13% of her birth weight, which put me in a further spiral of guilt thinking I wasn’t feeding her properly. Two days later after the milk started to come through she was back up to only losing 6%. But those two days filled me with worry that I was failing my baby girl.

My milk came in later than normal, about 5 days after she was born, by which time I was an absolute emotional wreck. Nothing can prepare you for the intensity of the feelings that come up after you have a baby, and I was totally bowled over by them.

Over the next few days I managed to feed and express, with the wonderful support of my husband, the amazing lactation consultant who visited me almost daily, my incredible doula, and wonderful friends and family.

However it was becoming very evident to me, to my partner and to the midwives, that this experience was not doing my emotional and mental health any good at all.

I WAS TEARY, ANXIOUS AND LOW. MY APPETITE VIRTUALLY DISAPPEARED AND I HAD NO ENERGY. I FELT DISCONNECTED AND QUITE FRANKLY - PRETTY HOPELESS. I FELT FRAGILE AND WAS CONSTANTLY ON THE EDGE OF BREAKING DOWN.

Was this really how it was supposed to be?

Every morning I woke up and cried as I faced the prospect of feeding and being in pain for a whole day ahead. Combined with exhaustion and physically feeling weak - I couldn’t find my way out of the low. I couldn’t revert tomy normal healing tactics because I could barely get out of bed, let alone go to nature or move my body.

My husband would bring Sophia to me, and did his best to help me get her to latch in a way that didn’t cause me pain. But all he could do was watch as I cried over and over again.

I decided to give my breasts a break from feeding directly and express for a couple of days to see if they would heal so that I could ‘start a fresh’. I pumped constantly and she fed well, she was happier and so was I because she was getting plenty of milk and I wasn’t filled with fear and anxiousness. But it wasn’t sustainable to feed her that way permanently.

I tried again after 24 hours of resting them. And within one feed my nipples were bleeding again and new blisters had formed. I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I FELT SO DISCONNECTED FROM MY BABY THAT I QUESTIONED WHETHER I COULD EVER BE A MUM.

The breastfeeding was driving a huge wedge between us. It was impacting the whole family and I knew I had to make a tough decision for all of us.

I was in turmoil over wanting to feed her in my heart, but being in agony and not wanting her anywhere near me. I felt guilt and shame for not being able to give her what she needed in any way. I knew it would be hard - but I never expected it to be like that.

I COULD NOT SHAKE OFF HOW MUCH GUILT AND SHAME I FELT FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO DO WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE MOST NATURAL THING IN THE WORLD TO A MUM.

And then the universe took matters into its own hands. I started to feel feverish and my breasts started to swell. My whole body ached and I couldn’t move... I went to the doctors and they confirmed what I thought… mastitis. An infection caused by blocked milk ducts. It meant antibiotics and the doctor said if it didn’t clear up I would have to be admitted to hospital. That for me confirmed that I needed to stop.

I know many people continue to feed very successfully with mastitis. But for me I just couldn’t do it.

Firstly, I didn’t want to give Sophia antibiotics through my milk, and I needed to be on them to heal the infection - but if I am truly honest that was an excuse to cover up the more pressing issue. i was seeing more and more of my old anxiety patterns coming up.

I KNEW THAT I COULD NOT BE THE BEST MOTHER TO MY BABY WHEN MY MIND WAS IN THAT PLACE. AT THAT MOMENT IN TIME I COULDN’T EVEN PICK HER UP AND CUDDLE HER BECAUSE I WAS IN SO MUCH PAIN.

She sensed it and it was seriously impacting the bond I had with her.

So I stopped right then.

WE DIDN’T HAVE A PARTING FEED WHERE I GOT TO STARE AT HER BEAUTIFUL CONTENTED LITTLE FACE AND LISTEN TO HER SWALLOW SO SWEETLY. WE DIDN’T GET THAT LAST MOMENT TOGETHER GIVING HER SOMETHING THAT NOBODY BUT ME COULD DO. I DIDN’T GET THAT FINAL JOYFUL SIGHT OF HER FLOPPED BACK IN MY ARMS, ‘MILK DRUNK’ IN TOTAL BLISS FROM SOMETHING I HAD CREATED JUST FOR HER.

I just stopped.

It broke my heart but I just stopped.

On one hand straight away there was relief and our whole family felt it. Sophia took her formula beautifully. I felt relief that I didn’t have to go through the pain anymore, and I felt my connection to her growing. As I held her in my arms and bottle fed her I looked into her eyes and started to feel the love grow more intensively. My husband got to feed her and experience that same connection as I did.

But on the other hand I felt like I had let her down. I worried that if I couldn’t push through the pain it meant I didn’t love her enough. I felt like I must be a bad mother because of that. I felt triggered by everyone around me that was breastfeeding (and if I am honest I still do at times). I worried I was missing out on precious moments with my baby. I felt like I had been stripped of the most important thing that I could do for my daughter. I worried that I was damaging her health and not giving her what she needed to thrive. I worried that in years to come she would ask me about breast feeding and I would have to tell her that I couldn’t persevere with it... and would that make her feel like I didn’t care for her enough?

I knew deep down that I had made the right decision, but I won’t pretend I didn’t fear judgement.

I felt ashamed and I felt a failure.

Particularly in the world I surround myself - a holistic and natural space where breastfeeding is celebrated and expected - I felt embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t do it.

AS I WRITE THIS I CAN’T HELP THE TEARS. BUT THEY ARE HEALING OF COURSE. AND NOW I LET MYSELF GRIEVE.

I have grief for the moments in the middle of the night that only I could experience. I have grief for not being able to comfort my baby girl with my breast. I have grief for all the days and months I thought I would have breastfeeding. I have grief for not getting to fumble under a muslin cloth when I tried to breastfeed in public for the first time. I have grief for not being able to be part of the movement of women who are normalising breastfeeding. I have grief for the visions I had for myself. I have grief for the way I expected to feed my baby.

I feel a deep sense of loss for breastfeeding. I know there are so many positives that I can focus on. But I also know that it’s important not to dismiss my sadness and not to try and cover up my disappointment.

I kept saying to myself that I couldn’t breastfeed. But the truth is I made the choice not to continue. It’s dis-empowering to take away the fact that I made the decision and that I had very valid reasons.

I know this won’t be the last tough decision I have to make as a mother, and I am sure that it will stand me in good stead to make choices that are often painful at times. But I can’t help but wish it had been different.

However - I am a great believer in life taking you on the path you are meant to be on, and despite wondering ‘what if…’ on a regular basis, I believe that this is my journey as a mother, and it has already given me a chance to face some of my shadows.

MY PERFECTIONISM. MY INNER CRITIC. MY JUDGEMENT. MY DESIRE TO CONTROL. MY FEAR OF REJECTION FROM OTHERS. THIS EXPERIENCE HAS GIFTED ME ANOTHER CHANCE TO HEAL AND PRACTICE COMPASSION TOWARDS MYSELF.

Right now I am writing this while my beautiful, healthy baby is sleeping next to me in her crib.

She is thriving and so am I.

We walk in nature together, we play, we communicate, we are learning so much about each other.

My husband gets to feed and connect with her which has made such a huge difference to their relationship. She is content, calm and happy, I am growing in confidence every day. I genuinely don’t believe the last few weeks would have brought so many joyful moments had I not made the choice I did.

All three of us are becoming a real team. A family.

TO ME THIS HAS HIGHLIGHTED YET AGAIN THE NEED TO BE BRUTALLY HONEST WITH MYSELF AND PRACTICE RADICAL SELF LOVE IN OUR DARKEST TIMES. I DON’T MEAN THE KIND OF BUBBLE BATH PAMPER PARTY THAT WE SOMETIMES THINK OF AS SELF LOVE - BUT THE RAW AND GRITTY FORM OF SELF LOVE - SELF ACCEPTANCE - THAT IS ESSENTIAL TO EMBODY WHEN THINGS ARE NOT AS SHINY AS WE WOULD LIKE THEM TO BE.

It has also helped me practice non attachment. It has shown me that in order to be the best mother to Sophia, I have to put my mental and physical health first. Has it been easy? Hell no. But I am yet again given the opportunity to practice kindness towards myself. One of my lifelong lessons.

Despite the pressure upon us to be perfect parents, I see now that the only ‘perfect’ way to feed your baby is the way that makes you feel happy and healthy. For some that will be breastfeeding exclusively, some will do a combination, others don’t want to breastfeed at all and will go straight to bottles of formula. Some mothers will breastfeed for years, others may do it for a week and decide it isn’t working for them, some not at all.

AT A TIME IN A WOMAN’S LIFE WHEN THEY ARE MOST LIKELY FEELING VULNERABLE, FRAGILE, SCARED AND OVERWHELMED - SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE HERE - THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS THAT THERE IS SUPPORT AND LOVE, AND SOMEONE TO WIPE AWAY THEIR TEARS WHEN THEY ARE GOING THROUGH THIS HUGE TRANSITION IN THEIR LIFE. THE LAST THING THEY NEED IS SELF JUDGEMENT OR A BRUTAL INNER CRITIC.

Perhaps the greatest learning, and hardest thing to master ,when it comes to becoming a mother is the understanding that we need to nurture ourselves as much - if not more so - as we nurture our children?

Lx