Welcome to The Baby Feeding Series

Welcome to our exciting new guest post series! I’m thrilled to finally introduce 'The Baby Feeding Series.' It’s an idea I’ve had for a while, but like many things in motherhood, it often took a back seat—and that seat was always full! Now feels like the perfect time to launch another guest post series on the blog.

This series will highlight real stories from parents who have faced the challenges and confusion of feeding their babies. It’s meant to be a space where parents can share their experiences, helping others who might be struggling to feel less alone. Parenting is the toughest job in the world, but it’s also one of the most rewarding, and I want to share those incredible stories.

To kick off this series, I'll share a glimpse into our feeding journey...

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant like it was yesterday. It was a moment my husband and I had dreamed of for so long, after countless heartbreaks and too many negative tests. Finally, those two pink lines stared back at me, and a whirlwind of questions flooded my mind. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Did I do the test correctly? I'm going to have a baby—I have to care for another human being. Will I be good enough? Should I breastfeed or bottle-feed? I’ll attend every class I can find.

Experiencing such a whirlwind of emotions in just a few minutes was overwhelming. I should have been soaking in the joy of the moment, but after waiting and longing for something so deeply, why was I suddenly questioning everything. I paused, took a deep breath, and began to think about all the wonderful aspects of pregnancy—the glow, the luscious hair, the baby kicks, and, of course, being the centre of attention. But, as with most things, the bubble eventually burst. 

The first few weeks of pregnancy were tough, but we made it to our first scan. Before we knew it, the second trimester had arrived, and my midwife was already asking about birthing plans and breastfeeding, casually mentioning how much room the baby had to move—thanks for that! Unsurprisingly, that appointment ended with me sobbing in the car. I had no clue what I was planning or what I even wanted to do. My husband and I are the kind of people who usually just go with the flow and avoid making plans since they often fall apart anyway. 

During another antenatal appointment with the same midwife, she insisted I enrol in breastfeeding classes, which made the session challenging as I was still undecided. Her persistent focus on the matter throughout my third trimester left me feeling pressured and uncomfortable. I was relieved when she was transferred out of the district, and a new midwife was assigned to me. This new midwife was incredibly understanding, reassuring me to make the decision that was best for me and my baby. She provided outstanding support during the later stages of pregnancy, helped with my birthing plan, and even stayed after her shift to assist me through labour. Her dedication is something I will always remember..

My labour was long but relatively natural, with just a few stitches due to a tear. I was completely exhausted. The baby was happy and healthy, and my mum fed her a bottle right away. Shortly after, we were moved to another ward, but I wasn’t allowed to go home because my blood pressure was very high, and they wanted to keep me under observation. It was upsetting to see my husband leave the ward with an empty car seat that night, but I finally had a quiet moment alone with my brand-new baby.

That’s when I decided to try breastfeeding her. Woah, it was incredibly painful. I wasn’t expecting that level of pain, and she couldn’t even latch properly—what would it be like if she did? My daughter was crying nonstop, her face bright red, and it felt overwhelming—I had no idea what to do. I tried breastfeeding through the night, but nothing seemed to soothe her. No one came to help, and I was completely on my own. I felt so lost, unsure of what else I could try. Overwhelmed by pain and frustration, I had no choice but to reach into my baby bag for a bottle.

Soon enough, we were discharged from the hospital and back home surrounded by our comforts. It was then that I continued trying to breastfeed. It was so difficult. My daughter wouldn’t latch, and it made me feel like a complete failure. The pain wasn’t just physical but emotional. I did persevere for a while, but it didn't feel like the right plan for us. But that’s OK. As a bottle-feeding mother, I feel there’s a stigma around using a bottle, but there really shouldn’t be—after all, a fed baby is what matters most, right?

If you’re interested in joining The Baby Feeding Series, just send me an email, and I’d be excited to share more details with you! Don’t hesitate to reach out, even if you don’t have a blog and simply want to tell your story.