To latch or not to latch
What they don’t tell you about breastfeeding: the leaks, the love, and the urge to scream into a pillow.
As an expecting mom, you’re told about the duties that await you: feeding the baby, changing diapers, taking rest to recover faster. Cuddling the baby? That just happens. What no one really emphasizes is the sheer amount of patience and resilience needed to do all of this- every single day- for what feels like forever.
The one thing that’s rarely included in this list is how utterly consuming all of it can be. The repetition and monotony of tasks that stretch over 2+ years is exhausting. The fact that you’re expected to feed, nurture, and care for a little human for the next 18+ years involves a mind-boggling amount of work- and a daily effort to keep yourself sane.
Although most of these tasks require effort and constant mental math, I would still prefer changing diapers for 3 years over breastfeeding for 2+ years. Let’s face it- breastfeeding is not always beautiful. On most days, it’s not me cuddling my baby and admiring my son as he feeds. It’s me wincing in pain, shouting internally (and sometimes out loud), while he treats my body like a jungle gym.
Not Always Beautiful, Not Always Natural
The initial months post-delivery were so painful that I’d rather not talk about them. But I know I’m not alone. I’m sure there are other moms who resonate with this. Why is the idea of breastfeeding so romanticized? It doesn’t come naturally to everyone. Both the mother and baby put in effort every single day to make it work. Some days, you have cracked nipples. Some days, you bleed. Some days, you’ve just had enough. Many days are filled with silent tears while holding your baby. But still, the show must go on. The tasks of nursing through pain, blood, calculating how much formula to feed and maintaining a schedule to pump takes up so much brain space that you are consumed by it.
Just when you think you’ve crossed the finish line with labor, comes another surprise.
Within the first few hours of delivering a baby, you are asked to express milk. Cow mode ON.
What surprised me the most was the amount of milk that came- or didn’t. The volume of talk surrounding breastfeeding is disproportionate to the few drops of milk I saw. What a shocker. Why are we placing so much importance on how much milk we get in those early hours?
The first few months postpartum is what I’d call the “ice-breaking” stage: where you and your baby begin to get to know each other. Ah, so this is what’s been growing inside me! You start to pick up on cues, you try to understand how latching works. But it’s not immediate. It’s a dance both mother and baby learn over time.
There’ve been so many instances where my son was fed but still cried- for reasons only known to him (or so I think). But because of this invisible standard of “Am I producing enough milk?” I’ve spent days blaming myself for not being enough. Isn’t feeding the baby the primary expectation of being a mother? There’ve been days I’ve felt like my body was failing. Days I felt like I was failing.
The Mental Load Nobody Prepares You For
And here’s the part we don’t talk about enough: in the age of information overload, the vitality of support is lost in noise. On one side, people preach that breast milk is sacred: the “golden” food for a baby’s first 6 months. On the other, people push formula or pumping to give the mom a break. But whatever choice you make, you end up being judged. Too protective. Too detached.
But I wonder—Can I be both?
Why do I have to justify my choices to people who aren't even in my shoes? What does a mother choose? For some, it may mean exclusive breastfeeding. For others, a mix of formula and breast milk. For some, it may mean no breastfeeding at all. For some, the journey ends at 6 months. For others, a year. And for some, until the child decides to stop.
All choices are valid.
All of them are personal.
None of them need commentary.
The 2+ years of breastfeeding were not rosy. From bleeding, to leaking in public the second I heard any baby cry, the journey was full of highs and lows. I felt grateful to be able to feed, and I felt deep shame and doubt when I wondered if I was producing “enough.”
In the early days, every outing, every nap, every moment was planned around feeding or pumping. At first, it felt like a humbling experience. But when this extended over months while more tasks piled on, I started feeling overwhelmed. Not with my baby. Not even with breastfeeding. But with the mental load of constantly planning it. Sometimes I just wanted to tell my son, Can I take a break for a few hours? Can I just have my body back? That’s usually when someone chimed in with: “Stop feeding. He’s too old already.”
Why is breastfeeding seen in black and white? I fall in the gray. It’s not the act I’m tired of. It’s the relentless schedule. The night wake-ups. The physical exhaustion. The fact that someone is always touching me; even when I don’t want to be touched. But the fatigue is temporary. There are days I do it with ease and even a smile (who knew?) And there are other days where I’m silently sulking, rolling eyes on the ceiling, hoping it’ll be over soon; but still showing up for my son.
What I’d tell myself in hindsight:
No one cares if you're nursing. No one is looking. I used to stress about being “covered,” but now? I couldn’t care less.
Not every comment about your milk supply needs a response.
You can’t measure your love by the ounces/ml your body produces.
Everyone has an opinion on when to stop breastfeeding. That’s their noise, not yours.
It’s okay to have good days. It’s okay to have awful days. It’s okay to feel both on the same day.
Parenting is hard enough. We’re all doing our best. And that can mean feeding beyond infancy, nursing a toddler, or choosing not to nurse at all. None of it defines your worth as a mom. The only thing that matters is your choice.
Made from love.
Made for your child.
Made for you.
So next time you see a mother doing something you wouldn’t, maybe just offer her a smile instead of advice. We don’t need more judgment. We need more space, more grace.
We’re all sleep-deprived, stretched thin, and trying to stay human- while doing one of the most human things there is: raising a child.
You do you, girl.
What I’ll be sharing soon
Want to read more honest stories on motherhood and the whirlwind of feelings involved? Here’s what’s coming up next:
What I packed in my postpartum bag (what I was glad I took- and what I should’ve left behind)
Navigating nursing strikes (and the emotional spiral that came with them)
Feeding through toddlerhood: what changes, what doesn't
Setting boundaries with relatives and advice-givers (gently… or not)
If you’re on a similar path or even just curious about what it’s like- subscribe. Let’s share, learn, cry, vent, laugh, and walk this messy, beautiful, maddening, magical road of motherhood... together.
Fantastic post! 💯 Keep it going
Something between love and hate🥴