Yup. I said it. Breastfeeding is hard. It’s exhausting. I’m hungry all the time. And let me tell you, I crave the weirdest stuff! Yesterday I made oatmeal, only instead of blueberries or bananas…I added garlic and onions. And then I threw a fried egg on top because, why not? And it was good. Too good.

I had a friend years ago that I no longer speak with because we had a disagreement on breastfeeding. She was so pro-breastfeeding and I couldn’t do it. I physically couldn’t produce enough milk and she got mad at me for it! she actually told me that the formula we were feeding Sarah was poison.

Now, this was over a decade ago and I think I know some of my issues. For one, my diet was crap. It consisted of Dr Pepper, beef jerky, and whatever my in-laws cooked for us…spoiler, it usually came from a box and all the veggies came from a can. So processed, and nothing was ever fresh. I also never drank water. We had a well and the water was gross, but we were too poor to buy bottled water like I needed. And I didn’t have a good support system so I was always stressed. Always. My mother in law died of cancer three days before Sarah was born and I developed postpartum depression. I already had depression, anxiety, and PTSD, so coupled with her death, I spiraled. I was not in a good place and breastfeeding suffered.

Sarah wasn’t gaining weight. She cried a lot and she was hungry. Her pediatrician recommended that I get some brewers yeast capsules from the health food store and I picked them up when we left the appointment. I literally went from pumping 2oz at a time to 10oz within just a few days! I was so excited. Sarah was mostly a bottle baby instead of straight to the boob because I was working, but she was finally able to eat!

But she still cried. ALL. THE. TIME. One night, at like 2am, I had to walk outside because if I didn’t, I might have smothered her. She had been crying for about 4 hours straight and nothing helped. I didn’t know what was wrong. Her pediatrician didn’t know what was wrong. All I knew was that I actually understood why those women snap and kill their babies, and I couldn’t handle thinking like that.

At a follow up appointment, I pulled out a bottle so Sarah could eat and the doctor took it from me. She actually kind of snatched it from me and scared the hell out of me. My milk didn’t “look right” to her, and it wasn’t. It was a 4oz bottle and all 4oz were foremilk. Foremilk is the sugar lactose milk that you get before the hindmilk. Hindmilk is where all the nutrients are. Foremilk is just to get them interested, more or less. So the fact that I wasn’t producing any hindmilk was an issue. A big one.

Long story short, my milk was making Sarah sick. Hurting her belly, and she was |-this-| close to becoming lactose intolerant. We had to buy special lactose free baby formula. But overnight, my baby was brand new. She was fed and she wasn’t in pain. She was happy! It was like invasion of the body snatchers. I had to make sure she was still the same kid because she slept through the night. She played without screaming. She was satisfied. And she was good.

So fast forward about a decade. Dylan is here and he’s a boob baby. It was HARD. I knew breastfeeding was something that I wanted to try again, but I was scared. I was scared to screw it up again. Honestly, I was scared that I was a failure. That this was the universe’s way of telling me I wasn’t good enough to be a mom.

My pregnancy was so different. I am no longer married to Sarah’s father. My husband now is amazing and proof that second chances are possible. James was so supportive of my journey and my pregnancy. He was that guy that would run out to get me pickle slushees at 2am just because. He went to every appointment and he made sure I was taken care of. He didn’t judge me for wanting the exact opposite birth from my first. This go around I had a team of midwives and a lactation consultant. We had a water birth. He was there through it all. And when Dylan was born, he made sure I had fresh water all day and all night. He made sure I was eating all my veggies (“eat a rainbow,” as the midwife said). I don’t know that I could have done it without him.

I still don’t produce enough milk to pump and feed, but Dylan is almost a year old and I think we’re almost ready to wean. He wants to eat everything in sight and he just had 4 teeth come in at once so I’m more of a chew toy than anything else.

I will definitely miss the bonding time with him, and the journey we’ve had, but I think he’s almost done…and who knows? Once I’m done, maybe it’ll time to make another baby!