When Breastfeeding Feels Like Grief: A Letter to the Mama Who Dreads the Next Feeding (postpartum depression in Christian motherhood)

To the Mama Who Dreads the Next Feeding:

Dear Sweet Mama,

If the sound of your baby’s cry makes your chest tighten instead of your heart swell, I want you to know: you are not broken. You are not a bad mother. And you are not alone.

I have always had a complicated relationship with breastfeeding. I love my children more than anything. I love serving them. But the early postpartum days were not the glowing, peaceful moments I had imagined—or even helped create for other women.

Instead, I dreaded the cry that meant my body was being summoned again. Breastfeeding exposed every insecurity I carried about my worth as a mother. It whispered lies that I wasn’t enough. That my body was failing. That I was failing. It was easy to plunge into postpartum depression when I felt like I couldn't help my child. And yet—looking back—I can see that my breastfeeding journey placed me into the truest posture of motherhood: one of surrender.

Because motherhood was never meant to be about me. It was always meant to point me to God.

Let me tell you my story, in case it helps you breathe a little easier today.

When Knowledge Didn’t Protect My Heart

I am an OB-GYN. I have helped thousands of women bring their babies into the world. I knew the physiology. I knew the latch techniques. I knew the data. But twelve years ago, when my first baby was placed into my arms, I didn’t enter a peaceful garden. I entered a battlefield.

My baby had reflux. Colic. She screamed for the first six months of her life. No matter what I tried—no matter how desperately—I could not soothe her. I had been trained to help other women, yet with my own child, I felt completely helpless. I didn’t know then that I was raising a special-needs newborn.

As my milk came in, so did my tears. I kept waiting for the endorphins everyone talked about. Instead, each feeding felt like a test I was failing. I worked tirelessly to get my hypotonic baby to latch, only to watch her vomit everything I had fought to give her. She would cry until exhaustion overtook her—then wake shortly after, hungry again. These cycles lasted for hours.

In the depths of postpartum depression, I called out to Jesus—not with polished prayers, but with desperation. Desperate three-word prayers. Help me, Lord. I can’t do this. Give me strength.

When God’s Plan Shattered My Expectations

I was a Christian. I had followed the rules. I had done “everything right.” A healthy baby felt like the natural next blessing. But my plan was not God’s plan. Over the next four years, diagnoses accumulated. But the one that changed everything was permanent—engraved into my daughter’s DNA. Chromosome 15.

Angelman Syndrome.

A lifelong genetic disorder with no cure.

The diagnosis told me her mind would remain at three years old. Her words would be trapped inside her. Her body would not obey what her mind longed to do. This wasn’t a season. Disability was here to stay.

It was a grief I had never imagined—and now something I recognize as reproductive grief. As a physician, I had walked with women through loss and broken dreams. I knew the guilt women carry when they feel like their wombs have betrayed them.

And suddenly, I carried it too.

Why hadn’t my baby developed normally in my womb? Had I failed to be a safe haven?

I grieved the daughter I had dreamed of—the future that would never be mine.

When God Met Me in My Broken Womb Story

God met me in my broken womb story.

Psalm 139 reminded me that He saw my daughter’s unformed body in the secret place of my womb. He placed every nucleotide with intention. He was her Creator—I was not.

That truth freed me from the guilt that I had done something wrong in my pregnancy.

God gently lifted my eyes toward a promised land I had not seen before: a heaven where babies do not die, and non-verbal daughters can tell their mamas, “I love you.” He taught me that every life—no matter its length or ability—was woven with purpose. His purpose. My daughter was the gift that showed me my true purpose.

When Breastfeeding Still Didn’t Get Easier

In 2016, I became pregnant again. My second child did not have Angelman Syndrome, but my breastfeeding experience was still painful and confusing. My milk did not calm my daughter. She seemed irritated by it and screamed inconsolably before and after feeds. Eventually, we learned she had multiple food allergies.

Once again, I asked myself the same aching questions:

What is wrong with me? Why can’t my milk soothe my babies? Why doesn’t motherhood come naturally to me? What is wrong with my body?

The years that followed brought infertility, and then a rare complicated mastitis diagnosis after an abnormal mammogram. Months of biopsies and procedures consumed my next five months. My health plummeted as the steroid injections caused many side effects, including headaches that required me to see a neurosurgeon. I was diagnosed with a brain fistula, yet when they underwent the procedure, they could not find it. I had been miraculously healed!

Yet in every setback, God was gently removing the false treasures I clung to—my children’s health, my own health, my sense of control—and He used all of these setbacks to draw me to Himself. He was going to do a miracle through my womb.

When God Wrote a New Chapter

God pressed me to write for mothers who knew deep womb-grief. Giving God my womb stories was important to my healing as a mother. I had learned to trust God with my deepest heartbreak having purpose in the kingdom of God.

Woven in the Womb: Peace for the Pregnant and Postpartum Soul was released, followed by The Woven Motherhood Podcast—Stories of Hope. Still, even as I wrote about trusting God, I was tired. Eleven years into special-needs parenting, I often whispered, How long, O Lord?

And then God answered me… with a missed period.

Surely not at 42. Surely not when I was already drowning.

Surely not when I had given up the dream of more children.

But God writes best-sellers just when we think the story is over.

When Breastfeeding Became Redemption

My son was born in October 2024 after a high-risk pregnancy. After everything my body had endured, I assumed breastfeeding would be impossible.

But God surprised me.

For the first time, I experienced postpartum peace. My baby ate well. He slept well. And for the first time, breastfeeding felt sweet. I didn’t make an abundance of milk like the moms who had freezer-fuls of liquid gold. I made just enough to help my son grow. When my milk wasn’t enough, God provided formula for my son. Like manna in the wilderness, breastmilk and formula were daily provisions—enough to keep my son full and my heart dependent on God. Every day I trusted God to care for my child’s needs with whatever He gave me to feed my child.

Breastfeeding became a symbol of God’s faithfulness, reminding me that He has already prepared tomorrow’s meal. I had the freedom to live in the moment rather than worrying about the next feed or wishing I was somewhere else. My postpartum was less desperate and more dependent.

I had my first normal mammogram one year after my son was born. This breastmilk had cleaned out any previous inflammation.

I thank God that grief from my first womb story was not the end of my motherhood story. He was teaching me where I place my hope. He was teaching me to trust Him with the unknown. God used my womb-grief to show me that He was my most precious treasure.

A Final Word for You, Mama

Breastfeeding doesn’t work out for everyone. It isn't best for every baby. And it isn't best for every mom.

Even with all of the best lactation support, a partner’s support, and the best intentions - breastfeeding can be extremely difficult. Breastfeeding is often a broken experience, because our bodies are fighting an uphill battle after the fall from Genesis 3. But it doesn’t mean that you are a bad mom if breastfeeding doesn’t work out this time. It doesn't mean you're a bad mom if you have to supplement with formula. It doesn't mean you're a bad mom if you feel like your body is "failing your child." It's more important that our children have a mother dependent on her Savior rather than on her own successes.

If the ugly voice of failure is taunting you today, take a moment to reassess your goals and what you value.

Breastfeeding should be a bonding experience for you and your baby.

If you’re hating breastfeeding because of how it makes you feel about yourself… If you dread spending this time with your baby…. If you find that you have thoughts of self-hatred rather than thoughts of grace -

Then take a pulse check with me.

Good moms know when to hold on and when to let go.

Would letting go help you love motherhood more?

If breastfeeding feels like grief instead of glory, please hear this:

You don’t have to do everything perfectly because God provides what our babies need.

You just need to be open to options that may be different than what you may have originally planned.

Whatever that looks like for you today, may you find grace for yourself.

God loves you and your baby.

His mercies are new every morning for both of you.

And for the next experience, His mercies will be new again.

Every baby and postpartum has different needs, but the same God who will provide new mercies.

Perhaps this breastfeeding wall is causing you to depend on God in a new and fresh way.

Maybe that's why breastfeeding is so difficult.

And if you need to let go today, it's okay.

Letting go may help you let joy in.

Give up what is God’s. And then you can give up what is holding you down.

Check out The Woven Motherhood: Songs of Hope for Moms and our The Woven Motherhood Youtube Channel below! If this blog was helpful for you, check out Woven in the Womb: Peace for the Pregnant and Postpartum Soul, for more devotions to help you through postpartum!

Breastmilk Jewelry from Milk Couture - With the few drops I had leftover from my son, I was able to capture my breastfeeding journey and God's faithfulness to me through breastmilk jewelry. Thank you for capturing the beauty, Cait Robertson! IG: milkcoutureco

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2tqtQ2pew4

Check out "The Milk and the Manna," a song that helps breastfeeding mamas find strength in a rough postpartum. Produced by Woven Motherhood and streaming on all major song platforms.

This article covers: breastfeeding grief + postpartum depression + Christian motherhood + reproductive grief + special needs parenting