The Book in Flames

When Evie was born, I fully intended to breastfeed. I had the pillows. The pump. The determination. The vision of that perfect latch.

But breastfeeding doesn’t always go by the book. Sometimes the book bursts into flames and you’re left holding the ashes, wondering what just happened.

From the jump, Evie had a lazy latch. No matter how I positioned her, how I guided her—she’d latch for a second and then give up like meh, close enough. And when the latch doesn’t work, the milk doesn’t flow. So, I turned to pumping.

And… nothing.
Thanks to my own medical history, my supply never fully came in. I was exhausted, raw, and desperate. Told over and over “just keep trying,” like I hadn’t been trying every single day. It broke me.

By 3–4 weeks, I switched to formula. And I cried. Not because formula is bad (it’s not)—but because I felt like I had failed.

That shift didn’t go smoothly either. We started with Enfamil Infant (yellow), but reflux turned every feeding into a full-on milk volcano—think Exorcist special effects, but with burp cloths.

I tried every trick in the spellbook:
✔️ Feed upright
✔️ Keep her upright 30 minutes after
✔️ Try not to cry when she passed out mid-bottle and I had to wake her by stroking her cheeks and tickling her toes

We switched to ready-made, to Gentlease (purple), to Sensitive (pink, the unicorn of formulas during a shortage). Nothing was perfect.

And through it all, I spiraled.
“If I could just feed her myself, she wouldn’t be struggling.”
💔 It felt like the curtain had risen on motherhood and I’d stumbled on my first line.

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Round Two: Ellie

This time, I was prepared for battle.

Ellie surprised me. She latched first try. I cried with relief—like the universe had heard me first try. I was so relieved I cried. It felt like the universe had heard me.

But once again… no milk. Despite the latch, despite the effort, despite everything. She was two weeks early, her weight was a concern, and I knew: I was not sacrificing my mental health again.

So I said it.
“F* it.”

Straight to Enfamil Gentlease.

✨ No reflux.
✨ No spit-up.
✨ Less guilt.

We did a temporary higher-calorie formula (blue) to pack pounds on her tiny frame, but Gentlease quickly became the real MVP. She thrived.

Both my girls did. 💪

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The Spell That Stuck

Here’s the thing:
If you can breastfeed and it’s what you want—amazing. Truly.
But if you can’t… or don’t want to… that’s okay too.

✨ Fed is best.
✨ You are not a failure.
✨ You are a warrior.

My daughters? They’re strong, smart, emotional, healthy Viking babies. And they’ve been bottle-fed since practically day one.

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The Truth of It All

So if you’re out there, staring at a pump at 2am, weeping into a burp cloth, wondering if you’re enough?

Let me answer that for you:
You are.

You are more than enough.
You are doing beautifully.

Whether your boobs are the buffet or your bottles are on backorder—your baby is fed, loved, and held. That’s what matters.

And to all the parents out there making midnight formula runs, burping upside-down, and trying to keep a baby upright when they fall asleep 15 seconds in?

I see you.
I was you.
And you’re doing great.