A Reflection for World Breastfeeding Week

Unraveled, Oil on Canvas, 12”x16”, 2023

“In the few quick moments it took a new baby to cry, my world began to unravel. In those early days, I found myself in the liminal space between expectation and reality, where the landscape of early motherhood revealed both its beauty and its brutality. This painting was born of an acute need to find purpose and meaning in the trauma and grief of my birth story and subsequent struggles with breastfeeding. This piece is an attempt to make meaning from what felt unendurable.”

- Alanna Betts

A Personal Story

Before my son was born, I had no way to understand how very hard breastfeeding could be. It was the thing I felt the most unprepared for, but I repeatedly got the message that “it’s natural, you’ll figure it out”.  I was nervous and unsure, but assumed it would fall into place.

It didn’t.

After a birth filled with unexpected complications and trauma, we entered the postpartum period already depleted.  I felt the weight of a deep grief when we had immediate difficulties breastfeeding. Things felt like they just kept descending as my son lost weight, developed jaundice, we started supplementing, and his difficulty latching impacted my milk supply.

I felt my body was failing my baby and I was desperate to make this work.

Swept Under the Rug

For the first few weeks, we found so little knowledgeable support; even when consulting our pediatrician and an insurance provided lactation consultant. So many times I felt like my concerns were swept under the rug. The reassurance that “he’s gaining weight now, so just keep doing what you’re doing” didn’t touch the deeper emotional terrain I was navigating.

I needed someone to see how hard we were fighting; how much I wanted this.

Finding Support

Eventually, we found that someone. With the guidance of a skilled IBCLC, we discovered my son had a tongue tie and a lip tie that had gone previously undetected. She not only helped us advocate for treatment but walked beside us in the long, slow recovery and rebuilding that followed. Her presence was one of the turning points in our story.

She also was the first to notice that I was not okay. She gently reflected that my mental health symptoms were outside what is normally and that it was time to consider a visit to my doctor for breastfeeding safe SSRIs and a therapist to get support.

What You Don’t See

So often we see breastfeeding women and assume we know the full story. But so often there are unseen parts of feeding journeys. For me and my son, there was a 5 day hospital stay with him under bilirubin lights, donor milk, formula supplementation, weeks of low-supply, countless doctor and lactation visits. There was a laser frenectomy and painful follow-up oral exercises. There were nine weeks of triple feeding (breastfeed baby, feed baby bottle, pump) every 3 hours. (Each feeding took at least an hour.) There was heartbreak stronger than any I’ve felt and so many tears. The grief and anxiety were raw. There were moments when I doubted it would ever get better. And still, we kept going.

The Healing

We made it. We reached our goal of exclusive breastfeeding.

And while the outcome was what I hoped for, the deeper healing came from the people who stood with us in the hardest parts:
The professionals who truly saw us. The people who reminded me, I was a good mother whether we breastfed or whether I switched to formula. The friends and family who offered validation and didn’t minimize how much it hurt — even when they couldn’t fully understand.

I didn’t have to do this alone.

For World Breastfeeding Week

I want to honor the unseen parts of so many feeding journeys. The courage it takes to keep showing up. The heartbreak of struggles. The strength in seeking help. The quiet victories, whether they lead to breastfeeding, exclusive pumping, formula feeding, donor milk, or combination feeding .

If you’re navigating the emotional aftermath of birth trauma, feeding challenges, or the complex transitions of early motherhood, you don’t have to do it alone. Therapy can offer a space to process your experience, reconnect with your body, and find a path forward that feels grounded and compassionate.

You are not failing. You are doing something incredibly hard. And you don’t have to do it alone.

If you are ready for more support, reach out to schedule a consultation. Your story matters—and healing is possible.