Kate’s Low Supply Story

There are so many ways we can define success with low milk supply. If you would like to share your low supply story, contact us.

I have primary low milk supply, or hypolactation, caused by breast hypoplasia.

I began to question whether or not I would make a full supply during pregnancy (due to family history and physical markers for breast hypoplasia) but everywhere I turned, whether it was my medical team, public health agencies, community prenatal groups or social media, everywhere told me I could breastfeed, and that exclusive breastfeeding was best for my baby. I went into my baby’s feeding journey starry eyed, with romantic visions of feeding my baby at the breast. I had all the supplies, three different kinds of breast pumps, 400 milk bags, a tube of lanolin, everything ready to go.

After my baby was born, he was hypoglycemic, and the hospital staff supported us in triple feeding (breastfeeding, supplementing with a bottle, and pumping all in the same feed, sometimes taking two hours per feed and repeating eight to 12 times in a 24 hour span). At the time, I didn’t fully understand what triple feeding meant. I just thought never sleeping ever (almost literally) was part of the experience of having a newborn and that this exhausting schedule of triple feeding would pay off and we’d get to exclusive breastfeeding eventually. I did have my questions but this is what was recommended so we stuck with it.

At one week postpartum we had my baby’s pediatrician appointment followed by a lactation appointment. We told the pediatrician we were still triple feeding, and he said that we could stop doing that now and just put the baby to the breast on demand. My husband and I looked at each other skeptically after the pediatrician left the room. My milk had come in, but we knew our baby wasn’t getting enough from breastfeeding.

At the lactation consultant (LC) follow-up, we did a weighted feed, and it was clear I was making only a fraction of what would support my baby’s needs. My concerns about my breast anatomy were discussed (at the time I was using the descriptor insufficient glandular tissue, or IGT). We decided to continue triple feeding as I was still hopeful, and the plan was to check in with my LC again a week and a half later. We added occasional power pumping (which spanned about an hour a session).

I made it two more nights before having a 3 A.M. breakdown about this feeding journey. I turned inward, upset with my body, feeling an overwhelming sense of inadequacy with what it could not do for my baby, and a feeling of immense grief at the dream I had about feeding him at the breast.

Desperate, I booked a virtual LC appointment for that morning. This new LC encouraged me to keep triple feeding if I wanted to continue with my goal of exclusive breastfeeding. “Women have success sticking with it and can see their supply increase.” I tried explaining how I didn’t think my body could do that, that even with breast compressions during pumping sessions it felt like I was participating in an act of self-harm. I felt I was being asked to do something that my body was incapable of for the sake of more breast milk.

I decided to stick with triple feeding for one more week, until my final lactation consultant follow-up appointment. That time was an exhausting experience of ups and downs. Some pump sessions I had higher output, and wondered if my supply was increasing, only to see it go down again at the next feed. Some days I could laugh about the quantities, others I’d break down crying. It all affected how I felt about my baby, my body, and this new experience of motherhood.

There were late nights and early mornings where I would sit on the couch with my baby propped up on my thighs. I’d feed him a bottle while pumping, the attachments dangling on either side of him, trying to save precious time that could be used for sleep. I was realizing that triple feeding was interfering with my ability to bond with my baby. Eventually I looked it up online and was unsurprised to read that other parents commonly refer to it as “triple feeding hell.”

The day before my LC appointment, I had an appointment at my OB’s office where I was being screened for PPD. I was tearful talking to my PA about my breastfeeding journey. She left the room momentarily to speak with my OB (who was between appointments with other patients), and came back and relayed that my doctor said the sooner I accept the switch to formula the better, and then they offered medication for my mood. I felt so misunderstood, like my discoordinated medical care plan was both causing me distress and treating me for it.

At my last LC appointment two and a half weeks postpartum, my baby didn’t transfer much more milk than he had during the previous weighted feed. We acknowledged that this probably was because my anatomy couldn’t support a full supply. The LC commended me on how well I was taking the diagnosis, and I said goodbye to triple feeding and the dream of exclusive breastfeeding.

I spent another month combo feeding, with a formula bottle for every meal, complemented with breastfeeding during the days and pumping during the nights. My supply never increased. I met Diana and for the first time felt understood with my journey since she had also been through a similar journey with her own daughters. She explained all my options, and encouraged me to just focus on the breastfeeding aspect as that’s what I wanted (I hated pumping). I wanted to do this but was afraid quitting pumping would decrease my supply.

At six weeks postpartum I met with a breastfeeding medicine doctor who helped give me closure and a name for my diagnosis, and who, like Diana, encouraged me to choose a path for myself and my baby going forward that would be sustainable and prioritize my mental health. I quit my overnight pumping sessions that evening.

I’m three and half months postpartum as I write this. My baby still breastfeeds during the days (with significant supplementation), and I might have one pump session before bed or overnight if I feel it’s needed. I’m still attached to the idea of exclusive breastfeeding, but I am choosing a realistic and sustainable path. It’s still a process of grief and letting go, and some days I question whether our breastfeeding journey will come to an early end due to my decreasing supply. For now, I try to focus on what we’ve been able to preserve in this breastfeeding relationship so far, and try not to borrow tomorrow’s worry.

In reflecting upon my pre-birth dreams of exclusively breastfeeding, I’d like to say that I was naive, but I don’t think that is a fair description for any new mother with low milk supply. I don’t think it’s an understatement to say that I was systemically gaslit by a widespread medical culture and societal belief which misguides women into thinking that exclusive breastfeeding is accessible to all, as long as you try hard enough.

No one screened me for risk factors for low milk supply. Breast hypoplasia (and a family history; my mom had low supply) was evident in my case, and I had to offer up questions about it in order for my medical providers to say something.

My current belief system is that mothers’ mental health, as well as the well-being of the whole family unit, should be prioritized in choices about how we feed our babies, and that combo feeding and formula feeding should be encouraged and educated about in the same widespread manner as breastfeeding education. This might involve creating a tailor-made program with one’s lactation consultant, which is especially important for moms with low milk supply.

For other parents experiencing low milk supply—please know that any way that you feed your baby is important and special, and although sometimes it can be the right goal, maximizing breastmilk amounts can be a misleading path that many well-meaning medical professionals send us on. Sometimes better treatment for breastmilk “insufficiencies” means having the goal of less milk produced overall and a happier experience feeding your baby. Low milk supply is time- and resource-consuming.

I hope to continue having conversations with people in my life about low milk supply, so that other moms might know that they’re not alone in their journeys. Personally, I felt very alone in my early low supply journey. I’ve since learned there are estimates that around 5 to 15% of lactating parents, despite being fully supported in exclusive chestfeeding, will not produce a full supply no matter the intervention. That’s the parents of about one in 10 babies, more or less. It’s a significant number of people who are made to feel like they’re an anomaly when really it’s just a normal variation.

To stand on my soap box, it’s a gross oversight and medical negligence to tell all moms that they can exclusively breastfeed as long as they’re putting in the effort. The medical system seems to have a patronizing belief that if we educate mothers about the difficulties of breastfeeding, we will discourage them from even trying. I know that there’s nuance to this conversation, but from what I can see, many mothers want to breastfeed. They want to connect with their babies in this way. I think women should be supported appropriately in their feeding goals and given reasonable expectations at the forefront about what to expect.

Kate Lamoure is an illustrator and new mom and a founding member of the Low Supply Lactation’s support group. You can find her work at @kate.elisab on Instagram.