I thought breastfeeding would be second nature

how reality has influenced my experience

Pre having my daughter, I had this mental movie on repeat. It was me, in a warm nursery, rocking gently in a rocking chair while she latched perfectly, all satisfied and drowsy. My hair looked great (because, well, you know), soft background music was playing and everything seemed to be going so smoothly (though I guess it really couldn't have been going any other way) that it felt natural, instinctive and pretty much magical. Breastfeeding, I assumed, would be the one thing that would simply unfold.

I mean, it's natural, right? Women have been doing this for thousands of years without following a YouTube tutorial or a 20-step Pinterest guide. Why not just… figure it out, once the baby was born? No big deal. I didn't buy my nursing supplies in advance. I didn't do a breastfeeding class. In my mind, it was going to be a sweet bonding moment like something from a Johnson & Johnson commercial. And in came the wake-up call — shakier than a two-day-old cluster feeding.

The Reality Check: It Hurt. It HURT.

Breastfeeding: It wasn't just hard, it was like you're trying to solve a puzzle blindfolded but also you're running on no sleep, and the stakes are your heart.

Come Day 3 postpartum, my nipples were cracked, bleeding and so sore I would clench my body every time I had to feed. My baby had a hard time latching and falling off and getting more and more angry. Cue the downward spiral: she cried, I cried harder, and it was bringing me down every time I nursed: It was my baby, and she was hungry and I was failing horribly.

I have clear memories of one night, shortly after 2 a.m., sitting on the edge of the bed with an ice pack pressed to my chest, typing the words "Is breastfeeding supposed to hurt this much?" into Google. and my baby wailed in the background. It wasn't just pain pain — it was the weight that crashes down with it:

Am I not doing this right?
Is she getting enough?
And why isn't this as easy as everyone claims it to be?

I had my first full-on postpartum meltdown right then and there. That's when I realized breastfeeding was not simply a "feed the baby and go" prospect — it was a full-contact sport that would require everything I had to offer: body, mind and spirit.

Why It Was So Difficult (and No, It Wasn't My Fault)

Here's the part nobody tells you when they're gushing about the magic of breastfeeding:

• Natural doesn't mean easy. Like walking, talking and potty-training, breastfeeding is a skill to be learned from both the mother and the baby.
• Babies aren't born experts. Sucking, swallowing, latching are complicated physics that take time and adjustment and a hell of a lot of patience.
• Pain is an alarm that it is time to seek help, not to "buck up." If your toes are curling at the slightest snap, that's your body waving a big, red flag.
• You are not bad at this if you find it hard. You are surviving one of the most raw, personal trials of early motherhood.

It's like I wish someone had held me by the shoulders, looked into my tired eyes, and repeated after me: "Struggle is not evidence that you are broken. It means you're human."

How I Made It Through (And You Can Too)

If you're in the trenches now, I want to tell you what actually helped me—not the perfectly styled Instagram tips but the real-life, messy, save-your-sanity tips:

I Sought Help Early (and Often)

On the fifth day, I called a lactation consultant. Flat out the best postpartum gift I ever gave myself. She identified latch problems I couldn't see, and coached me on minor tweaks that made a major difference. Newsflash: there's no award for going it alone.

I Set Micro Goals

Rather than burdening myself further with, "Breastfeed for 12 months or bust," I focused on small, attainable benchmarks:

• Let's just make it through this next feeding.
• Let's get to the end of the week.
• Let's reassess next month.

Micro goals got me away from feeling stagnant, of having a mountain of pressure crushing down on me.

I Gave Myself Permission to Change Course

Formula, pumping, combo feeding — they are tools, not a reflection of failure.

I'd remind myself feeding my child with love was more important than the way she got her calories. When breast-feeding began to feel like emotional torture rather than a bonding experience, I gave myself freedom to investigate other options without guilt.

I Talked About It (Bluntly)

When friends and family would ask, "How's breastfeeding going?" I stopped sugarcoating:

"It's harder than labor."
"It's like breastfeeding a tiny alligator.
"Each clasp feels like a mini firecracker exploding on my nipple."

In fact, talking about it — without pretending it was all rainbows — made me feel less isolated, and you know what? "OMG, me too," so many moms have said.

I Made Healing More Important Than Perfecting.

I bought nipple creams, hot/cold packs and a little bit of magic (air-drying topless in my living room). Glamorous? No. Effective? 100%.

Managing pain is not optional. It's survival in those early weeks.

If You're Suffering Right Now…

Mama, you're not crazy.

You're not broken.

You're not bad at this.

You are just learning something impossibly hard, under searing physical and emotional pressure, after not sleeping at all, while your body recovers from being torn in half. And you have no idea how much more you are loving, and how much more power, and grit and heart you're showing than you even know.

Mental load moment? Absolutely.

Parking lot cry moment? Yep, had that too.

Still a badass mom? Every. Single. Day.

If you've been breastfeeding, but it feels tougher than it should, know this: You're not losing. You are building strength, and resilience — and a deep, unshakable compassion for your baby and for yourself.

Whatever feeding journey you go down (straight breast, combo, formula), you're already doing the most important thing: loving your baby and showing up.

And that? That's everything.