Nobody Told Me Breastfeeding Could Be This Hard

I had my son seven years ago. As a first-time mum, I had no idea that breastfeeding could be so challenging.

Nobody tells you that once you have your baby, it’s not like the movies, where the baby magically latches straight away with no pain, no stress, and your milk supply flows in like a rainbow-powered fountain. Everything’s meant to be rainbows and cotton candy, right?

Well, not for me and not for a lot of other mums either.

I had a C-section, and my baby was popped straight on my chest. I’d been leaking colostrum for a few weeks before he was born, but no one told me I could start collecting it to build a stash. I remember a midwife saying, “It’s highly unlikely you’ll get anything with a pump, but I can bring it in.”

Fifteen minutes later, I had 100ml from each breast. Dairy cow mode: activated.

But then came my problem...my nipples. Slightly flat and a bit inverted. My bub couldn’t latch at all. Not even a little. So we ended up syringe-feeding him, using my pinky to stimulate his sucking reflex.

I left the hospital with an enormous milk supply… and a baby who couldn’t latch. No one told me, “Just express and give him a bottle.” That first night home, we hired a pump from the local chemist and just hoped we were doing the right thing.

We weren’t.

I pumped one boob at a time (because guess what? No one told me about double pumping either) and kept up the syringe feeds every 3 hours. It wasn’t until day 3, when the maternal health nurse visited, that she asked, “What are you doing?” And we just shrugged and said, “We don’t know?”

She turned to my partner and said, “Go get bottles. Now.”

He raced out, came back with bottles, and we put 30ml in one. Our baby guzzled it, content and calm for the first time. And that’s when the mum guilt hit hard. Had we been starving him? Were we doing everything wrong? It felt like it. And trust me, this might sound like common sense now but only because I’ve lived it.

With no support, you don’t know if you’re doing the right thing. That guilt still lingers.

And don’t get me started on the rest of what I discovered on my own…

The letdown reflex? Hurts like hell. I developed anxiety from anticipating the pain.
Flange sizes? I didn’t know they existed. I pumped with the wrong one for weeks and now have a scar from a nipple blister to prove it. One late-night Google rabbit hole later, I learned I needed to measure my nipple and get the correct size. A quick trip to the chemist the next morning, and boom pain gone.
And Even When You Are Giving Breast Milk… It Still Might Not Be Good Enough (Apparently) One appointment, I left in tears. Real, soul-crushing tears.
“But he’s still getting breast milk,” I said, desperate for reassurance. The maternal health nurse looked at me and replied, “Well, it should be coming from the boob and warm.” I just… broke. That single comment undid me. It made me feel like everything I’d fought for, all the pumping, all the late nights, all the trying… wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t until I spoke with a group of mums who gave me the blunt truth I needed:

“F**k that. As long as your baby is fed - breast milk or formula - it doesn’t matter how he gets it. As long as he does.”

That was the moment everything shifted for me. I realised that the people who are supposed to be a mother’s first point of support often come with outdated opinions, rigid expectations, and a serious lack of flexibility. And honestly? That’s their problem.
Because as long as you are confident and comfortable with what you're doing with your baby—power to you.

Nine Months Later… I Was Done. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Done. I had spent nine months double pumping (I eventually got there), every 3–4 hours, stuck to a wall pump with cords like a human dairy robot. The routine was soul-numbing:

Feed the baby
Put him to bed
Sit on the couch
Strap myself to the wall pump
Repeat

For nine. Whole. Months.

My boobs? They’ve seen things. They don’t look the same. They don’t feel the same. Honestly, they’ve been through the wars. But I’m so proud of them and everything they gave my baby, They nourished my baby for nine months with every drop of milk I could offer.

Could I have thrown in the towel earlier and switched to formula? Absolutely.
Would I have been okay with that? Also absolutely.

Because at the end of the day, as long as your baby is full and growing, it doesn’t matter how they’re fed. Love isn’t measured in ounces, warmth, or delivery methods, it’s in the care, the sacrifice, the snuggles, and the fact that you cared so damn much.

To Any Mum Reading This…

If you're struggling, second-guessing, or feeling like you’re failing, you are not alone. You are doing an amazing job. Whether you’re nursing, pumping, combo feeding, or formula feeding—you’re a good mum.

Fed is best.
Supported is essential.
And your story? It matters.

So here's to the late nights, the tears, the trial-and-error, and the triumphs. Here's to you.