Breastfeeding: same mom, two babies, two very different journeys

Two babies, two very different experiences

If there’s one thing motherhood has taught me, it’s that you can do everything “right” and still have wildly different experiences. My breastfeeding journey with my first baby versus my second is proof of that.

What I expected going in

When I was pregnant with my first, I really wanted to breastfeed. I can’t fully articulate why. It was probably a mix of things. My mom breastfed me and my two brothers, and she always spoke about it so positively. Society tells you that’s just what moms do. And honestly, I had this picture in my head of a sweet, calm bonding experience: rocking my baby to sleep, nursing him, looking down at him and feeling that magical connection. Add in the health benefits and cost savings, and it felt like a no-brainer. I truly believed that if I just worked hard and persisted, breastfeeding would just happen.

When reality hit

Reality hit hard. If you want the comical version of this, I highly recommend Ali Wong’s bit about how “breastfeeding is this savage ritual that just reminds you that your body is a cafeteria now.”

Those first 12 hours after birth were a blur. I tried to latch him immediately. He didn’t take. Nurses tried. Lactation consultants tried. I tried hand-expressing colostrum, but he wasn’t getting enough. By day two, the anxiety was really setting in. He was losing weight, and I started to panic. We gave formula while waiting for my milk to come in. He took the bottle immediately. I kept offering the breast, hoping something would click.

Exclusive pumping and holding out hope

Finally, around day five, my milk came in, but he still wouldn’t latch. So I entered an exclusive pumping routine. I was pumping roughly every three hours, supplementing with formula as needed, and trying everything to get him to nurse. We tried nipple shields, SNS tubes, everything. Weeks went by. Months went by. And then, magically, one day around three months in, he latched. Just like that. I couldn’t explain it.

After that, there were feeds where he latched perfectly, but often he preferred the bottle. Months four and five were the “golden” period, when he mostly nursed and I wasn’t chained to the pump. When I went back to work, bottle preference kicked in hard. He would only nurse if he was extremely drowsy. I started to wean during month eight. By ten months, we were fully formula-fed.

The emotional toll

Looking back, those months were emotionally exhausting. I felt guilt, shame, and frustration. I don’t consider myself a jealous person, but I was green with envy of other moms who had an easy and positive breastfeeding experience. If I could do it over, I probably would have accepted formula or exclusive pumping earlier. At the time, though, I just couldn’t let go.

A completely different second time around

Fast forward to my second baby. I was nervous. Breastfeeding had been the thing I dreaded most. But within ten minutes of birth, I put him on the breast, and he latched effortlessly. I was in shock. The next two days in the hospital, we nursed every hour or two, and it just worked. No struggles. No tears. No lactation consultants. My supply has been great, I haven’t had to supplement, and five months in, we’re still exclusively breastfeeding.

Letting go of expectations

It’s shocking, really. I still don’t know how much of it is my experience this time around versus simply having a different baby. But that’s the point. Some things are beyond your control. Breastfeeding, like so much of parenting, is unpredictable.

When I was really struggling with my first, I remember posting on a mom app. Someone responded with a line that stuck with me: parenting is all about letting go of expectations. You can expect your pregnancy, your birth, your breastfeeding journey, even toddlerhood and the school-age years, to go a certain way. Almost none of it does. Breastfeeding was my first big lesson in that.

What I hope other moms hear

If you’re in the thick of figuring out how to feed your baby, just know this: there is no universal right way. There’s only the right way for you and your family. However you’re feeling—frustrated, relieved, heartbroken, proud—I’ve probably been there.

Sending you so much love and solidarity.