When I was pregnant with Ella I had no specific desires about how I’d be feeding her. I just wanted her to be fed at the end of the day. I wanted my baby nourished and to grow and be healthy. That’s all.

It’s funny how things change. Within the first hour of Ella’s life, she had latched on and was feeding perfectly. It was amazing. I’d heard so much about how getting your baby to latch was the hard part and I guess that’s why I’d not set my hopes on feeding her myself.

My decision was made; the midwives said my baby girl was a born breastfeeder, I was filled with pride & encouragement flowed from everyone. If you’ve been in that situation you’ll know how lovely it is, having that bond with your baby, time for just you & them.

Our journey was going fab. Ella kept on feeding like clockwork. She was settled, content & full after each feed. So imagine my horror when the midwife said she wasn’t gaining enough. This continued for some time. At each visit she had gained a few more grams, but never enough for them to be satisfied.

I’d never had any hang ups about using formula, but when this was suggested by our health carers my world just fell to pieces. I was so upset. Filled with thoughts that my baby wouldn’t need me anymore; that our bond would be broken and everything would change. Looking back now I know they had Ella’s best interest in mind; but to a new mum who thinks she’s doing a good job breastfeeding her baby, this was a giant slap in the face. In my mind they were saying, “you’re not enough.”

The days went on with the introduction of a few oz of formula and Ella still wasn’t gaining. I was feeding her round the clock, trying to get as much into her as possible to bulk her up and please the midwives. Mother’s Day came with a visit from the midwife. Ella still hadn’t regained her birth weight, 18 days old. The midwife popped her on the scales, we all waited, fingers and toes crossed, hoping our baby girl had made the cut, but no; she had lost weight. That day, on my first Mother’s Day, I felt nothing like a mother at all. I couldn’t even give my daughter the sustenance she needed to grow. I wasn’t enough.

I tried more rest, more porridge, more vitamins, more pumping, fenugreek, fennel…you name it, I tried it all; with no success. As I write this it still fills me with sadness.

Breastfeeding has such great benefits for both mother and baby, and I had no desire to do it, until I did. Usually I’m really great at giving things up. Piano…gymnastics…ballet…getting up early to walk the dog… I gave them all up with no second thought; but this was different.

This has been the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. My daughter was labelled as “failling to thrive” before being sent to see a paediatrician. I could still feed my daughter with the little amount of milk I produced, but leave her wanting. I fed her for 6 weeks, but I was more concerned about what people would say if I gave up. I didn’t want other people to know that I wasn’t enough. My daughter experienced this all because of my stubbornness. My inability to see past my own ego. My embarrassment. You see I was more concerned about other people, but no matter what people are always judging.

So as I sat in my Drs office last week and she said the words, “she’s had a good start but I think that’s enough now” I died a little inside. I am not enough.

I spoke with my health visitor and she quickly corrected me. I don’t have enough. I didn’t have enough milk. My body, still recovering from growing and birthing my baby, just wasn’t functioning at its best to produce enough milk for her.