As “wonderful” and “natural” as it is, breastfeeding did not come easy for me when I gave birth to my first child. As a young, inexperienced, stressed-out 21 year old, I honestly had no idea what to expect when I chose to breastfeed Logan. The road was a much more difficult one than I imagined.

First, the hospital staff must have known how young and naive I was, because they bombarded me with a ton of absolutely false information. They had me pumping around the clock to “stimulate my milk to come in,” and I was like cattle hooked up to a machine almost the entire time I was in the hospital after giving birth. It was awkward, painful, and embarrassing as I was basically half-naked as doctors, nurses, and family members constantly came in and out of my room. I quickly became discouraged about the tiny amounts I would pump, and I put myself on a rigorous pumping schedule (every 2-3 hours) that I would continue at home, night and day, until I was beyond exhausted.

Second, they convinced me that because I was hardly pumping anything, I wasn’t producing enough, and I needed to supplement with formula. Yes, the hospital pushed formula on me practically as soon as I gave birth. And when he started spitting up after each formula feeding, they diagnosed him with a dairy allergy and switched him to soy formula. All of this happened within 48 hours of having my baby! Completely absurd, false information, but I was so terrified of doing something wrong that I blindly followed whatever I was told.

Fast forward a few months. I was a new mom, exhausted, and pumping around the clock between feedings. I had no plans to go back to work, but I had convinced myself I needed a freezer filled to the brim with bags of breastmilk. I had enough milk pumped and frozen to last Logan for months, and none of this was necessary. I had no idea that all I needed stored away was basically enough to cover the next day, and no more than that.

All the pumping is probably what caused my over-supply and two rounds of mastitis. If you haven’t experienced mastitis, imagine that you have a very bad case of the flu, and on top of that, a tiny piranha is biting you as hard as he can, digging his razor-sharp teeth into your nipples. And these piranha bites are, ironically, the only thing that can help you feel better from the horrible flu. Mastitis was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced, and I had it twice.

Even so, I still pushed on toward my goal of breastfeeding for six months.

Breastfeeding was extremely isolating for me. Breastfeeding in public made me so uncomfortable, and I constantly dragged my nursing cover with me everywhere I went, and still felt others were judging me. I would nurse in the car, in my bedroom, or in the bathroom at church. I don’t know why breastfeeding brought me such shame, but I did not have support from anyone close to me, and without that support system, I felt the full weight of societal stigma and judgment.

Eventually, I did go back to school, and my obsession with pumping haunted me. I pumped in my car, in the parking lot of the college campus. I hated every second of it and counted down the days until I could let myself be free from the endless cycle of pumping and breastfeeding. The day I finally let myself quit was one of the most relieving days of my motherhood journey. I made it to my goal, and I could stop breastfeeding, knowing that I had given my son the best start at a healthy life.

I hated every second of breastfeeding. So why did I invest so much time and effort into something that brought me so much physical and emotional pain?

Was it worth it?

I can’t say for sure that it was. Looking back, I’m proud of myself for setting a goal (based on the AAP recommendation) and sticking to it, despite many obstacles and lack of a support system. I nourished my baby and set him up for a lifetime of health, and probably saved a ton of money not having to buy formula! I sacrificed myself for him.

And yet, it put me through so much distress and actual physical pain that I’m not sure it was the best decision for me, especially as I battled crippling postpartum depression as a single mother. I could have stopped at any given time, cut myself some slack, and realized that a happy, healthy mommy takes precedent over any external goal or recommendation. Logan didn’t need to be breastfed in order to thrive – all he needed was a mentally healthy, happy mother.

My point in writing this is that no one talks about the difficulties of breastfeeding due the emotional toll it takes on mothers. You can choose to breastfeed and still be miserable every step of the way. Breastfeeding is not always easy, beautiful, and this wonderfully enriching bonding experience.

And that’s perfectly ok.

What all babies need – and this is a universal human need – is love. For some mothers, love comes in the form of breastfeeding, and for others, love comes in other ways. A mother’s happiness and self love, above all else, is essential to truly caring for and providing the best start at life for her baby.