I’ve received so many questions about my breastfeeding issues that I thought it’d be worth talking about in a dedicated post. (Sorry, guys, this one probably isn’t for you!)

Breastfeeding certainly hasn’t been an easy road for me, and I’ve learned that it isn’t necessarily an easy road for every mom. Had I known that others struggle with this, I wouldn’t have been so hard on myself. I didn’t do a ton of research about breastfeeding, thinking this aspect of motherhood would just “flow” naturally, so to speak. I know some people who went to look for help online in mom forums, there are so many out there that can help you, such as the lactation experts at best for mums, you can read about how to help yourself in the best way that you can, there is no shame in not being able to get it right from the get-go, every mum goes through worries like this with their newborn.

When I was first pregnant I was under the impression that I’d be able to leave Theo with my parents, and spend a long day out in Tuolumne when he was only a few weeks old. My friend Lyn mentioned that I’d need to take either a pump or hand express while on route. I didn’t even know what that meant, and that’s when I realized I was in for a huge learning lesson.

I should preface this by saying that I feel extremely lucky that my milk came in. I’ve heard from several women who weren’t as fortunate and have struggled with this. I’ve also met women for whom breastfeeding was the easiest thing in the world. I am somewhere in between. The first five to six months were extremely tough, but with the support of lactation consultants, our midwife, Randy, my family and my own stubbornness, I didn’t stop, but was oh so close a number of times (and totally understand why people do – every mom should absolutely do what is best for them).

In those first few weeks, breastfeeding Theo was about as painful as slamming your hand in a car door. Do that enough times and you reach a point where you just don’t even want your baby to latch because it hurts so bad. My toes would curl in the pain. My nipples were bleeding, cracked and extremely sensitive. I didn’t wear shirts because I couldn’t handle anything else touching my nipples. The only time I dressed myself was when I had to go out of the house to take Theo to the doctor. Anyone who came over was a close friend or family because I had to be shirtless.

I used the Motherlove Nipple Cream, and that offered a little relief. I texted other mom friends and asked if they had experienced anything similar, yet all said they had been fine after two weeks. Once again I felt as if something was wrong with me for not getting back on my feet quickly enough.

When I was three weeks postpartum, Randy had to go to New York for business. My parents offered to come down to help. I was still at a point where I couldn’t stand up for more than a couple of minutes without severe pain and pressure from my cystocele, as if everything inside was going to just fall out. I needed help with cooking, changing and holding Theo, and to be my back up in case anything went wrong.

The night Randy left, he casually mentioned that it looked like I had bruised the underside of my right breast. I figured it was from lying on it the wrong way, or perhaps it was Theo’s impression from feeding.

Sure enough, by next morning I was feverish and both breasts were sore. Still I chalked this up to the fact that my breasts had been pretty sore with engorgement ever since my milk came in. If you have had a child and do not like your boobs then you may want to have a breast enlargement or you might want them reshaping, you can still get Natural Results. You can go to websites such as naturalresultsaz.com or another website of your choosing.

Our midwife, Jamie, came over and said she thought I had mastitis, which is essentially an inflammation of the breast tissue and can run a spectrum of many symptoms. My breasts felt like a truck had hit them. We began with a number of natural and non-antibiotic remedies including Advil, vitamin C, echinacea, and two homeopathies: belladonna and phytolacca. About 24 hours later, I had a fever of 102 degrees, so I took the antibiotics, which offered relief within 12 hours. I naively thought that would be the last I ever saw of mastitis.

Jamie suggested that I speak to a lactation consultant to understand why I got mastitis and to try to prevent it from happening again. If anyone is curious if a good lactation consultant is worth the money, my experience has been and overwhelming YES.

I learned a number of things. It turned out I actually had too much milk (the opposite of a most women), which explains why my breasts had been hurting so bad for so long – I was extremely engorged. I was also still feeding him on both breasts with each feeding, overstimulating my breasts and therefore causing the excess of milk production.

I also learned that Theo had posterior tongue tie and severe lip tie-which means that his tongue can’t lift up or out very far, and that his lip can’t flange outward, resulting in a persistently bad latch and nipple damage for me. Turns out these issues can be genetic, Randy has it, and so does his dad – neither of them can roll their R’s – a simple diagnosis.

We got these issues corrected at an oral surgeon. Subsequently, we had to massage the underside of Theo’s tongue and upper lip six times a day for a few weeks. To see your little baby screaming in discomfort every time you shove your fingers in his mouth-talk about pulling on my heartstrings. But I figured this was better than getting mastitis every week because his latch was bad. I also tried using Doctor Jack Newman’s nipple ointment to prevent infection and ease the pain.

Soon I reached a point where I could stand wearing a bra and t-shirt. Even though my nipples still hurt, this felt like an amazing accomplishment. We continued to work on Theo’s latch. I only fed on one breast at a time to control my supply.

Yet there were times I was lazy and let him nurse when I should have popped him off and tried for a better latch. With open wounds, I was introducing bacteria. Also with an oversupply of milk, he wasn’t draining the breast each time. All things that could add up to an unfortunate mastitis infection.

Around eight weeks postpartum, I was getting out of the shower and noticed some redness and itchiness on my right breast again. My heart sank. All I wanted was to start feeling well and normal again. Eight weeks felt like forever to be laid up with infections and a cystocele. I was pining to get out of the bedroom and show my little boy the world. I hoped I could kick the infection this time around without antibiotics, and immediately began a round of natural remedies and homeopathy. Once again, 24 hours later my fever had spiked and I was back on the antibiotics.

After finishing that round of antibiotics, I had five glorious days without any issues. Then, once again, I was woke up one morning with a fever, sore breast and another round of mastitis. I was devastated and defeated.

I had no desire to go on antibiotics again (before these breast infections it was so rare that I ever took antibiotics), and so I tried all the natural remedies, including acupuncture and homeopathy. I also started pumping my breasts dry every four hours. I was worried about overstimulating my breasts and making too much milk, but I figured it was better than not draining and allowing bacteria to grow. Even with Theo sound asleep, I set my alarm for every 4 hours throughout the night to wake up and pump. I continued this brutal schedule for four weeks. My phone had a dozen alarms between the pumping schedule, the herbs, vitamins, etc. I was heartbroken that my milk production was so out of sync with my baby. Shouldn’t it just be easy? It felt so unnatural to be chained to the pump, and to be sleeping in these militaristic four-hour stints. But I stuck to it.

Finally, by the third month postpartum, I thought I was doing pretty good. This is the time everyone says your milk supply begins to regulate itself and even out. I pumped for a few feedings a day, but let him nurse as well.

Then, two weeks later, I hit a low point. I woke up with a very red, very sore breast-the most sore yet. I broke down in tears to Randy. Why couldn’t I figure this out? I felt I had tried everything. I was so regimented, so diligent. I felt like a failure.

My fever spiked to 103, and hovered around 102.7 for two days, even after starting antibiotics. I had to take a cold bath to lower my temperature. I stood there, freezing, shaking, scared to touch my breasts. I was in so much pain. I was crying and told Randy I couldn’t do it anymore. I just couldn’t do it.

I went to the doctor. I had to get an ultrasound on my left breast to make sure I didn’t get an abscess. The doctor told me some people get a portable ultrasound kit from Butterfly Network and other makers to monitor these things, but that didn’t work out for me. Then I returned for two days of heavy-duty antibiotics, the kind that they inject into your bottom. Finally, after four days of suffering, my fever subsided and I started to feel better.

During this time I pumped and dumped and gave Theo bottles of frozen milk as I couldn’t imagine nursing with such sore breasts, nor could I afford not to have him drain the breast fully. I was at my wits end. My lactation consultant also seemed to be stumped. She recommended I pump and bottle feed him till six months, then call it good. I added this to the list of options, along with starting formula. But the climber inside of me was convinced I was still just doing something wrong and figured that there must be a way.

When you climb a big-wall like El Cap, most of the days are full of suffering. You’re dehydrated, sore, bloody and scared. You have no idea if you’ll get to the top on time. And you wonder why would ever do this to yourself, and you vow that you’ll never do it again.

Yet … A couple days later your mind has a strange way of forgetting all the pain. All you remember is what an incredible experience it was to reach the top, and how good that can feel.

Randy reminded me about my breakdown in the bathtub – the tears, pain and sickness. Yet, what I realized is that I actually liked breastfeeding. I enjoyed that time with Theo. It didn’t work out all the time-ok, in fact it didn’t work out a lot of the time. But when it did, it was a great experience for me. And, I could just imagine that if I could figure it out, that it would be a great way to feed him when we were out climbing. No need to pack a bottle, etc.

I got a second opinion from another lactation consultant. She assured me that what I’d experienced thus far was extremely rare. She also told me that if breastfeeding was inhibiting me from mothering the way I wanted, then it was definitely not worth it (which it was coming very close). We started at square one. I felt like getting back to on demand breastfeeding was light years away, but we had to start somewhere. I would try to feed if I could, but also supplement with pumping and feeding him the bottle. She was worried that if I only pumped and fed, I’d give up quicker, and she was probably right; I’m sure I would have.

I learned on a few trips that going to altitude definitely makes me more engorged, so I had to work with that. I rented a hospital grade pump a few times when my normal pump wouldn’t suffice to unclog a duct, and Theo wouldn’t latch. I also learned that if I ate sugar, it increased the likelihood of clogged ducts.

Over the next three to four months, I eased into feeding just when he needed it, tapering down the pumping from every 4 to every 6 hours. I tapered down from feeding him and pumping after every feeding to only pumping after every other feeding. Then I tapered down to pumping dry just once a day. Soon, I was eventually just feeding him.

By seven months postpartum, I was only pumping if I thought I had nipple damage, but even that was getting more rare.

If you are struggling with breastfeeding, you certainly aren’t alone. I am nine months postpartum now, and I feel as though I am only beginning to feel like I’m getting a handle on it. I’m not quite as nervous about it. I still check my nipples after every feeding. I still worry if I see redness. I still have the hospital-grade pump sitting in the garage, just in case. And I very nearly gave up on several occasions.