Accepting My Low Milk Supply: Finding Peace in a Journey I Didn’t Expect

When I was pregnant, I had this beautiful, hopeful vision of myself breastfeeding. I wanted to do it all — nursing, pumping, bonding, providing every ounce of nutrition my baby needed. And even though I went into postpartum fully aware that the cards might be stacked against me, it still hit hard when the day came and things didn’t go the way I imagined.

At seventeen, I had a breast reduction. A lot of tissue was removed, which meant severed ducts, unpredictable nerve function, and an uncertain future when it came to milk production and letdown. I spoke with a lactation consultant before giving birth and tried to prepare myself for the reality of what breastfeeding might look like. But here’s the truth: even knowing what might happen doesn’t soften the blow when it actually does.

I just wanted to feed my baby in this one specific way — and accepting that I couldn’t fully do that felt like a grief no one prepares you for.

Trying Everything (Because That’s What Moms Do)

Once my baby arrived, I threw myself into trying. Like… really trying. I had multiple lactation appointments where we did weighted feeds and experimented with different positions. I measured my nipples for flange sizing, bought flange inserts, and tried nipple shields. I was determined.

And we weren’t just dealing with supply issues — we had latch problems, a tongue tie, and torticollis thrown into the mix. So on top of everything, I was juggling physical therapy and a tongue tie release at 3 weeks old.

Hydration? I chugged Body Armor like it was my full-time job. Calories? I tried, but between postpartum appetite loss and being a naturally picky eater, hitting those higher intake goals was rough. Honestly, sometimes eating felt like another chore on the already long postpartum list.

I was doing everything “right”… and still not getting the results I wanted.

The Turning Point: A Conversation With Myself

At three months postpartum, I was back at work — exhausted, pumping between tasks, and mentally worn out from obsessing about milk supply. That’s when I had the conversation with myself. The one where you get brutally honest, set down the guilt you’ve been holding, and finally look at the situation with compassion instead of pressure.

I asked myself:“What if I just accept what my body can do instead of mourning what it can’t?”

And that shift changed everything.

Instead of wishing I could be my baby’s full nutrition source, I found peace in a mixed approach. I did morning feeds. I did a top-off feed at bedtime. During the day at work, I pumped enough to supply 1–3 bottles. That was what my body could do — and that was enough.

Formula and Donor Milk Are Not Failures — They Are Gifts

In the beginning, we used formula. And it was wonderful. It nourished my baby. It supported my mental health. It filled the gaps with zero guilt attached.

Through lactation support, I also learned about donor breast milk — something I didn’t even know much about before. And I have to say it:To every single parent out there who donates milk… thank you.Receiving donor milk monthly was one of the greatest gifts and sources of relief during that season. It allowed me to supplement without shame, and I’ll forever be grateful.

Finding Peace in Acceptance

Once I stopped fighting my body and started appreciating what it was giving me, I felt lighter. The pressure melted. The guilt softened. And I finally felt present with my baby instead of preoccupied with ounces and pump sessions.

Low milk supply doesn’t make you less of a mother.It doesn’t diminish your love.It doesn’t take away from your bond.

Feeding your baby — in any way — is an act of love.

And sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is accept our own journey, even when it looks different than we hoped.