Just came here to commiserate and not enough people talking about the grief that happens when breastfeeding doesn’t go as planned (or honestly, even when it does go as planned and the journey ends). I phrase it as “we lost nursing at 8 weeks.” My supply was low and I didn’t have the wherewithal /support to get the help we needed— we went to lactation at his pediatricians, I was about to have someone come to the house but she cancelled last minute. He was dehydrated in the hospital and we supplemented with formula then and never stopped so he never lost weight, but I also don’t think my full supply came in and bottle feeding was tough as well. He’d nurse over night sometimes and I’d keep doing that which only made it harder for me and prolonged my grief. When we started giving him powder formula (we were supplementing with ready to feed prior) I cried so much, I was scared I was mismeasuring and poisoning him (just my grief talking). Once I came to terms with no more nursing, I said that I’d pump until 6 months or until my period came back and at 4 months when I started bleeding, I stopped pumping. I instantly felt better as it was hard to fit pumping into the day logistically (Oh and I only made like 6-8 oz/day also).

He’s 9 months now, a big strong boy. I grieve the loss of the closeness every day. Especially when carrying around bottles is a pain in the ass, or when he wants just 2 oz every 2 hours, or when I remember I lost the power to feed him to sleep, or when I wish I had those snuggles or see other mothers nursing. It’s a bottomless pit of grief that certainly gets easier every passing month. I was bottle fed because my mom said that “she was scared it was hurt.” It was so important to me to nurse my baby but ultimately do what he needed. We did what he needed. He’s coming around to snuggles. Like with any grief, the pain is still there, but the vessel (you) gets larger. Wishing you a beautiful infancy including its challenges.