The Time I Went to Extreme Lengths for Breastfeeding

“You’re planning to breastfeed, right?” This was the question that seemed to echo from everyone during my pregnancy. It felt less like a question and more like a judgment: “You’re not one of those mothers who doesn’t care about her baby, are you?” Of course not! I wholeheartedly embraced the mantra that “breast is best” and believed that failing to breastfeed would mark me as a total failure as a woman and that my deprived baby would suffer chronic issues and resent me for life.

However, my dreams of feeding my newborn with ample antibody-rich breast milk came crashing down during our first pediatrician visit when my baby was just four days old. The doctor informed me that my baby was diagnosed with “failure to thrive,” meaning she had lost weight and, essentially, I was starving her. I felt like I had already let her down as a mother before she even reached a week old.

This was not how I envisioned our early days together. Overwhelmed by emotions in that doctor’s office, I made it my mission to produce more milk at any cost. Having just given birth three days prior, my mental state was not exactly stable. Hormonal swings, sleepless nights, and the physical recovery from childbirth clouded my judgment, focusing solely on my baby’s needs. I reluctantly began supplementing with formula but was determined to provide as much breast milk as possible from my apparently inadequate breasts.

I was convinced that if I just tried harder, I could reclaim my title as a “worthy mother.” Here are some of the methods I resorted to in hopes of increasing my milk supply:

Spent $1,600 on four lactation consultants. For reference, that’s a lot of fancy cocktails! None of them helped, and one even remarked how “brave” I was for not opting for breast enhancement surgery because I was so flat-chested. Seriously?
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 even in the bathroom of a Chipotle. I was so exhausted from the relentless pumping schedule that I once fainted while pumping and ended up with sore breasts that felt like they had been through a shredder (0/10, do not recommend).
Tried every supplement imaginable: Fenugreek, Goats Rue, Blessed Thistle… you name it. All they did was make me more constipated and smell like maple syrup.
Consumed anything marketed as lactation-friendly: Milk Makers Cookies, Boobie Bars, you get the idea. While they tasted good, they didn’t help my milk production. But at least they provided me a way to cope with my frustrations.
Went to a weekly “Breastfeeding Support Group” run by a lactation consultant who refused to let us say the “F” word: formula.
Took a black market drug called “Domperidone,” which is known to induce lactation but is banned in the U.S. due to severe health risks. I ended up purchasing it from a dubious online pharmacy based in Thailand. Oh, and it caused me to gain 25 pounds, which didn’t help my self-esteem.
Used a “supplemental nursing system,” which was just a fancy way of saying a tube taped to my nipple, so my baby could drink both from me and a tube of formula. Unfortunately, she treated it like a straw, resulting in most of the formula spilling everywhere.

Nothing worked. The harsh reality was that my body simply wasn’t producing enough milk. Months into my “breast or bust” journey, I was diagnosed with “Insufficient Glandular Tissue,” meaning I didn’t have enough of the tissue that produces milk. Instead of letting me off the hook, the lactation consultant urged me to pump even more, insisting that even a little breast milk was better than none.

Eventually, my loving husband stepped in. He was genuinely concerned for both my health and our baby’s well-being. Although I was heartbroken, a part of me felt relieved. I finally let go of the struggle, and it felt liberating. I bought a bulk supply of formula and never looked back.

Looking back, I realize how desperately I wanted someone to tell me it was okay to stop. That I could still be a great mother without breastfeeding. If you’re feeling overwhelmed like I was, I want to give you permission to put down the pump, dismiss the guilt, and stop. While breast milk is beneficial, being a joyful and present mother is even more important. Cherish the moments with your little one. Fed is best. Your family, mental health, and happiness are paramount. Grab that bottle and feed your baby formula. The generic Rite Aid brand is perfectly fine! And hey, now that you’re not breastfeeding, treat yourself to a glass of wine. Cheers!

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Summary:

This article details one mother’s desperate attempts to increase her milk supply for breastfeeding, leading her to extreme measures, including consulting multiple lactation experts and even resorting to illegal drugs. Ultimately, she learns that being a happy and present mother is more important than breastfeeding, leading her to embrace formula feeding instead.

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