I Tried to Breastfeed, But Could Not – Finding Peace

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Some mothers have tried to breastfeed — really tried — but no matter what they did, it didn’t work out. They reached out for help, followed every bit of advice, and still felt like they were hitting a wall. The support just isn’t there the way it should be, and that kind of isolation can cut deep. If this is you, I hope you find some reassurance in knowing you’re not the only one going through it.

I Tried to BreastfeedIt Was a Relief to StopMae Mae’s story

I tried to breastfeed and drove myself crazy doing it – I took Fenugreek, which I later realized gave me migraines. Pumping just 7ml at a time — around 70ml a day — and even pumping ten times a day made no real difference. I had to supplement early because of jaundice and other risk factors.

I cried more tears than the milk I made, and soon my supply dropped to 40ml a day. My period returned at six weeks and kept coming like clockwork after that. That’s when I decided I was done — and honestly, it was a relief. Stopping was what I needed for my sanity and to truly bond with my baby.

I have so much respect for the moms who keep going through situations like this. When I have my next baby, I’ll probably try for a couple of weeks and see how it goes. Even if all I can offer is the colostrum, that’s still something — and that’s enough.

Pumping sucks. LiterallyBrie’s story

I was told to pump eight times or more a day by the IBCLC, but I don’t think she fully appreciated what a full-on task it was. I tried my best, but my house, marriage, baby, and energy suffered. It’s not practical. I wish they wouldn’t push pumping on mums who can’t breastfeed, as it only draws out the grieving process (and yes, it is grief) over being unable to breastfeed.

I tried my hardest and couldn’t have done any more.

mom and baby, tried to breastfeed

Tried to Breastfeed With Bell-Shaped Breasts – Kerrie’s story

When I had my first child, I did what most expectant mothers do — I went to all the hospital breastfeeding classes, never once thinking it might not be an option for me. No one ever mentioned that possibility.

I knew my own mother hadn’t been able to breastfeed, but I never knew why. After an emergency C-section, I gave birth to my beautiful daughter. On top of recovering from surgery, I was also dealing with carpal tunnel, which made it hard to even hold her in the right position to nurse.

The midwives kept encouraging me to keep going, but my milk just wasn’t coming in. I assumed it was the surgery delaying things. After three days of stress, pain, and a screaming, hungry baby, my husband saw how badly it was affecting me and made the call to take us home.

We tried to breastfeed for another four days with the help of a midwife. I pumped, breastfed through cracked and bleeding nipples, and still got nowhere. My baby kept losing weight. That’s when my mom stepped in — she remembered not being able to breastfeed me, and that her mother struggled too.

Eventually, the midwife said that I had bell-shaped breasts, and physically, my baby couldn’t stimulate the milk ducts. It was likely genetic. That moment of clarity came far too late. We rushed to the store, bought formula, and within days, our daughter was gaining weight, sleeping, and finally content.

What hurts most is how long it took to get there — and how close we came to putting our baby’s health in danger because of the unshakable idea that “breast is best.” No one told us there might be another way. No one prepared us for the possibility that breastfeeding could fail, even when you try your hardest.

Next time, I might just show up to the hospital with bottles, teats, and formula packed — and I dare anyone to say a word.

Huge thanks to this site for talking about the hard stuff. For letting women share their frustration, their heartbreak, and their truth. We need to remind each other: it’s okay, even if society says it’s not. We did what was best for our babies. That’s what matters most.

Not One DropAnnie’s story

I tried to breastfeed for six exhausting months — hours every day and night — but my milk supply never came in. It was so stressful that I was eventually told to give top-ups, but those “top-ups” were full bottles of formula.

I bought the expensive, hospital-grade pump like they said — still nothing. My poor baby would suck endlessly, frustrated and hungry, kicking at me out of pure discomfort. It was one of the worst experiences of my life.

I wish I hadn’t put him through that. The moment he had a bottle, he was calm and happy. Looking back, I regret making him struggle through two hours of feeding just to get what he needed from a bottle afterward. It wasn’t fair to him — and I wish I’d let go sooner.

mom with her kids

I Tried Everything I CouldDee’s story

It’s such a relief to read these stories and finally realize it wasn’t just me. My daughter is eight months old now, and I had every intention of exclusively breastfeeding — but it didn’t turn out that way. By two weeks in, I had to start supplementing with formula, and it broke my heart.

I tried to breastfeed with everything I had. I took doctor-prescribed meds, herbal supplements, pumped constantly, spent days in bed doing skin-to-skin, saw a lactation consultant, even worked with a kinesiologist, and practiced EFT to clear emotional blocks. I joined La Leche League, asked for hormone and thyroid tests — nothing worked.

Even now, I still put my baby to my breast. She gets next to nothing, but it comforts her. What hurt just as much as the low supply was the complete lack of support. There’s so little understanding for women who physically can’t produce enough milk.

One nurse thought I had postnatal depression just because I was so upset about not being able to feed my baby. She told me it “shouldn’t” make me sad. But the worst part was the professionals who brushed it off, told me to give a bottle, and move on — like it was no big deal.

No one really understood how deeply I needed to breastfeed, or how desperate and defeated I felt when I couldn’t. Now I’m pregnant again, and while I feel lucky, I’m already anxious about going through this all over. I know stress won’t help — but I also know I don’t have it in me to fight that same battle again.

I hope this next time is different. I’ll take it one day at a time.

It Is Not Your FaultAlicia’s story

My heart goes out to anyone who’s been through this. I’ve read all the stories here, and part of me wonders if I should have tried longer with my firstborn, Adam. I tried to breastfeed for one exhausting, emotional week.

The hospital stay was fine until the second morning, right before discharge. I tried pumping and barely got half an ounce from both sides using a double pump. When I broke down crying, feeling completely inadequate, the nurse gently brought me a bottle of formula for Adam.

Once we got home, that week became one of the hardest of my life. I had a little colostrum on day one, but that was it. I kept pumping constantly and had him at my breast for over an hour at a time. The first three nights, I didn’t sleep at all — I was so sleep-deprived, I started hallucinating.

The nurse at the hospital said my milk would come in by day three or four. It never did. I kept pushing through, but by the end of the week, I physically couldn’t do it anymore – I had to turn to formula.

I had trusted my body to be enough, to do what it was supposed to do — but it didn’t work out that way.

Adam just turned three last week, and he’s the smartest little boy I know. I’m now four months pregnant with my second, and I might try again — or I might not. Either way, it’s my choice.

My husband’s family kept asking, and I finally told them my story. To their credit, they were supportive — even if it’s a little awkward around my mother-in-law, who breastfed until her son was five!

Putting that kind of pressure on ourselves, especially as new moms, isn’t healthy. I’ve learned a lot since then. This time, I’ll give it a shot, but if it doesn’t work, that’s okay — that’s why we have alternatives.

There needs to be more open, honest information out there. No one should be shamed for this. It’s not your fault. Whatever your journey looks like, I’m wishing you strength and peace — and most of all, the freedom to choose what’s right for you.

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