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I was a young 19 when my first baby was born, clueless, scared, and was on the non-plan, plan. The ONLY plan that I had, was that I was sure that I wanted to breastfeed.

On September 11th, 2001, yes, that day...I had a doctor's appointment for my baby, because he still didn't seem to be gaining weight, even though he was on my breast for nearly 18 hours a day. (I am not kidding.) My pediatrician put me on Reglan, a prescription drug used for heartburn, because it also helps increase breast milk production, and had me get a pump to up the flow, and to monitor how much I was producing.

All the pumping did was tear my "milk duds" up even more than they were already due to a baby trying to fervently feed himself out of an empty pantry! LOL! I wrote the amounts in a journal, and then fed it to, him. Then fed him again 20 minutes later, and so on, and so on. I patiently waited for weeks for the Reglan to kick in and up my supply, but after three weeks of more sleepless nights and horrific bouts of crying, (And I'm not just talking about the baby,) we went back to the pediatrician.

I read my milk journal and was shocked. Come to find out, my poor sweet baby had been basically STARVING for the first month and a half of his life! I felt so completely awful. Then he said the words... "Supplement Feeding" and handed me a can of Carnation Good Start. I started bawling. I felt like the biggest failure on the face of the planet at the time, even though my wonderful doctor had explained to me that sometimes this stuff just happens, and it's fairly common. I told him I felt like I was giving up, that maybe I hadn't tried hard enough! He laughed (sweetly) and pat me on the back, then told me that I had tried harder than most other mom's would have, and just the fact that I FELT like a failure, showed just how great a mom I was.

That day I went home, mixed up 3 small ounces of the formula as the doctor had ordered, thinking of course that this couldn't possibly be enough for my baby, and fed it to him. He guzzled it down in minutes, smacking his little lips between feeding and burping, obviously enjoying every little sip. Then, once he was finished, he fell asleep in my arms, satisfied, and full bellied for the first time in his life.

I cried again. Only this time, out of relief. I wanted to run to that pediatrician's office and hug him! From then on I continued with the formula, plus breastfeeding (only way less frequently) and my baby boy thrived! He gained weight in no time, and began to sleep through the night. The bouts of crying had diminished, and he was just an over all happy little guy. Like, a different child!

About a month after that, I dis-continued with the breastfeeding because I just couldn't seem to get MY pep back, (basically the little amount of nutrition he was getting from my milk, was all I had to give)

About a month after that, I put some weight back on myself, and felt more energized than I had in what seemed like forever, in turn, making me a better Mommy.

I have had three more children since then, with my second, I went through the hoops again, only I gave in when she was about 2 weeks old instead of 16 weeks! Then with my last two, I just started the supplement feeding at birth.

The point of this is, you don't have to feel like a terrible parent if things don't go according to plan, nor in the times that you don't even HAVE a plan in the first place! By struggling with my first, I was better prepared down the road. And trust me, breastfeeding won't be the only one of your plans for your child that get's de-railed! That's only the beginning of the LONG line of trials in parenthood! It won't be the last time you feel like a failure either, there's plenty more where that came from! But it's okay. 

 We are humans doing the best with what we have, and with the information we have available to us.  Just do your best, be your best, and don't be afraid to ask for help or support if you need it. We are all learning from experience, and learning by doing. Will we screw up? Absolutely. Will plans get flushed down the toilet? Yep. Will we let those things define us as parents? Maybe for a minute, but certainly not forever. :)