It’s world breastfeeding week. We’re coming up on 12 weeks of life with Scarlett. Introducing baby 2 has sure been a different experience than it was the first time around.

I see so many gooooorgeous images of breastfeeding mamas. I know so many mamas that have breastfed. Obviously it’s the most natural form of feeding a baby. Us humans have been doing it for thousands of years. But oh-my-effing-gawd, all that knowledge didn’t make it less painful. Is it painful for everyone? I have no idea. I’m sure there are plenty of unicorn breastfeeders out there that will tell you it doesn’t hurt. Bull shit. That’s what I have to say. Bull-effing-shit. It was toe curlingly excruciating for about 3 weeks.

Every time I’d sit down to feed, I’d start sweating in places that I’ve never sweat before. At least not since the last time I put a shark onto my nipple.

When I had my first daughter, breastfeeding didn’t go so well. In fact, it didn’t really progress at all. It was a shambles full of tears, fits and eventual defeat. I went to several lactation appointments to try to get it to work. It didn’t. After a couple of weeks, actually I don’t even remember how long it was, I decided to exclusively pump & express breastmilk to feed Hazel. It was not how I intended for my journey to go. But I was pretty hell bent on feeding my babe the liquid gold for the first year of her life. I felt so much mommy guilt at not being able to get her on my boob that there was no way I was going to throw in the towel on that goal.

I don’t remember my milk ever “coming in” during that journey. It wasn’t an event like it was with baby 2. Actually it was a 6 week challenge to get enough milk to not have to supplement with formula. It was weeks of trying things to increase my supply. I did everything I read about on the internet. And finally something either worked or my body just got it figured out. And it was official. I was an exclusive pumper.

Exclusively pumping was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You don’t just get to pop a mouth over your boob when the baby is hungry or when you’re engorged, you have to pump it out. You have to pump before the milk is needed and store it properly and clean everything and boil parts and bag it and date it and freeze it and thaw it and try not to lose your mind because you feel like a jersey cow in freaking dairy farm all day every day when you want to just relax and enjoy your baby.

There were benefits, of course. Other people could help feed her. I ended up being an oversupplier and in the world of milk making, that’s an exciting thing. I was able to donate over 3,000 oz of breastmilk to the NICU and that felt pretty good.

When I got pregnant with baby 2, I didn’t take my experience for granted. I was planning to breastfeed, but acknowledged my struggle before and planned for another turbulent journey in case it was my fate.

This entire birth experience was a complete 180 to how things went before. And now in hind sight (that’s always 20/20, isn’t it?!) I am fully convinced that that experience was what actually paved the way to how our journey unfolded.

Hazel was induced, long, highly drugged and very medicalised. It resulted in a birth that I hardly remember and one that triggers emotional trauma when I think about it. On paper, it was pretty standard. Any doctor would shrug their shoulders at the events. But to me, it makes me feel sad to think about. My tiny baby was so drugged after her birth that she never even attempted to latch. It was doomed from the time I stepped into the hospital.

Scarlett’s entire pregnancy was us empowering ourselves with information and knowledge to create a better experience. We used hypnobirthing tools and her birth was probably the best day of my life even during a global pandemic. A home water birth done in the most natural and peaceful way with my incredible partner by my side. And what do you know. Immediate latch.

It still hurt like a mother. We needed support to really get it nailed down. My milk rolled in like a tsunami on day 2. I fed a small piranha though the blisters, sweat, tears and a pain level way greater than pushing a head out of my hooha.

Eventually the pain scale dropped and things started to get easier until I no longer filled with anxiety before a feed or sweat profusely or cried.

Everyone’s experience and journey is unique. This was ours.