The Breastfeeding Blues (AKA: Who is This Woman in My Mirror)

No one really prepares you for the identity shift that comes with breastfeeding - especially when it follows back-to-back pregnancies. I love my babies. I really do. But some days I look in the mirror and think… who is this woman and why is she wearing my face?

For starters, I haven’t had Botox in two years. TWO. Years. Which means my forehead has been telling stories I didn’t approve. Back-to-back pregnancies have politely (and not so politely) reset my body, my energy, and my reflection. The bounce-back memo clearly got lost in the mail.

I used to be that mom.

You know the one. The morning bus stop mom who somehow looks like she just stepped out of Vogue at 7:45 a.m. Hair done. Makeup on. Sunglasses that say “I have my life together.” The mom we all secretly love and hate at the same time.

And now?

Now I’m the mom who celebrates a morning shower like it’s a personal victory. Makeup? Optional. Hair? Questionable. Clothes? Whatever was clean-ish , didn’t smell like last night’s spit-up, and has easy boob accessibility. These days it’s less “effortlessly chic” and more “babies, boobies, and meltdowns.”

Yes , both toddler and mommy!

Breastfeeding is beautiful- but it’s also relentless. Someone always needs you. Your body isn’t really yours, your schedule isn’t real, and personal space is a distant memory. Your shirt is always damp for reasons you dont want to explain. Let's not even mention the sleep you don't get anymore. Some mornings I’ve already handled two meltdowns, nursed a baby, cleaned up a mystery mess, and reheated my coffee three times… all before 9 a.m.

And the mirror? She’s just there. Watching. Judging quietly.

But then there are moments-the quiet ones - when you look down at your baby. The rolls. The cheeks. The way they’re getting chubbier by the day. And you think, Wow. I did that. My body did that.

This body. The one I’ve been side-eyeing. The one I barely recognize.

And suddenly, the leaky shirts, the exhaustion, the mirror shock , it all feels worth it. Because this body is working overtime, doing something incredible. Feeding a whole human. Growing them strong. Showing up even when I feel like I barely am.

So if you’re reading this in yesterday’s leggings, with unwashed hair, leaking in places you didn’t know could leak - welcome to the breastfeeding blues. No Botox required. You’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re just breastfeeding.

And someday soon, we’ll recognize ourselves again.

Until then? Pass the coffee. And maybe the dry shampoo.

You can check out my Mom's Survival Kit page for things that made breastfeeding easier for me, and a bunch of other helpful items.