Breastfeeding Aversion During Pregnancy: My Honest Experience

When I first fell pregnant with our second baby, I expected the exhaustion, the nausea and maybe even the emotional rollercoaster that comes with those first few weeks. What I didn't expect was how quickly breastfeeding Bailey would become something I dreaded.

Up until that point, breastfeeding had been one of the things that I finally came to enjoy at times. It hadn't always been easy, but by then we had found our rhythm. It was comfort, connection, a way to settle her after a hard day and a small pocket of stillness in the middle of motherhood. I assumed we'd continue until she naturally lost interest, maybe even tandem feed for a while if that felt right.

Instead, almost overnight, nursing started to make me want to jump out of my own skin.

The feeling is difficult to explain unless you've experienced it yourself. It wasn't pain, although my nipples became incredibly sensitive as well. It was more like this overwhelming urge to pull away, a wave of irritation and agitation that rushed through my body the second she latched. Sometimes I felt touched out, sometimes angry, sometimes trapped, and then almost immediately afterwards I felt guilty for feeling that way at all.

I'd only ever heard one friend mention breastfeeding aversion before. I knew milk supply could drop during pregnancy, and I knew nipples could become sore, but I had no idea that breastfeeding the child I loved so deeply could suddenly feel so unbearable.

I felt like such a failure. Honestly, it made me feel so depressed and so incredibly sad. I remember thinking to myself that we had fought so hard to continue breastfeeding through all the challenges we'd already faced. The tongue ties, the weight gain issues, the tummy issues... somehow we had made it through all of that, only to get to this point.

Every morning I would sit there breastfeeding her while fighting every instinct inside me telling me to stop and get her off me. I cried through so many feeds just battling those feelings. It's such a deep pain because, on one hand, all you want to do is nourish your child and continue this relationship you've worked so hard for, but on the other hand you simply can't tolerate it. It's honestly heartbreaking.

There's this rush of emotions that comes over you. For me, it always started with the physical sensations, then came the rage and the overstimulation, followed by this overwhelming urge to unlatch her immediately. A few times I actually had to stop, and every single time it completely broke me. It felt cruel because I simply wasn't ready to end this chapter yet, but my own body was making it so difficult to continue.

The amount of times I Googled or asked ChatGPT, "When does breastfeeding aversion stop? When will it get better? How do I keep going?" I was desperately searching for someone to tell me there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

There actually is a hormonal explanation for breastfeeding aversion, especially during pregnancy. For me, everything was completely fine until around seven or eight weeks pregnant. Most of what I read suggested it would start improving around eleven weeks, but mine lasted much longer than that.

Although no one knows the exact cause, breastfeeding aversion during pregnancy is thought to be largely hormonal. Pregnancy hormones can make your nipples much more sensitive while also changing the way your nervous system responds to breastfeeding. For some women it's mild, while for others it can feel almost unbearable. It's surprisingly common, but because hardly anyone talks about it, it can feel incredibly isolating. Knowing there was an actual reason behind what I was feeling didn't make it disappear, but it did help me stop blaming myself quite so much.

One thing I did discover was that pumping didn't trigger the same response that breastfeeding did. So instead of forcing myself to continue every feed, I slowly reduced direct breastfeeding and pumped instead. It eventually got so bad that after a few weeks I was only breastfeeding first thing in the morning. That feed felt like the easiest one for me to tolerate and, if I'm honest, it was probably also the one I was the most emotionally attached to.

I also stopped trying to push through every feed. Instead, I started counting down and only let her feed for as long as I could genuinely tolerate. As much as I hated doing that, I realised forcing myself to continue only made the aversion even more intense the next time.

I've felt so guilty for feeling the way I felt. Guilty for not enjoying breastfeeding after we'd finally gotten to a place where I actually did. I was angry that we'd just made it through the hardest part of our journey, only to now possibly have to make the decision to stop. I wasn't ready to let go of what I thought was one of the last connections Bailey and I had. I'd become so attached to the idea of giving her breastmilk until she turned one, and that goal created so much more pressure for me than I realised at the time. It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that reaching that goal might look a little different to what I'd imagined.

When Bailey turned six months, we introduced goat's milk formula for her dream feed. That decision helped me so much. It allowed me to build a freezer stash while also giving me the reassurance and support I desperately needed.

In the end, I decided to have our last breastfeed when Bailey was ten months old, and I'm so incredibly proud that we made it that far, especially considering everything we'd navigated together. We made that last feed into a special memory that I have on video and will forever cherish. Because I'd managed to build such a good freezer stash, Bailey continued receiving breastmilk well past her first birthday. Looking back now, I honestly don't think that would have been possible if it wasn't for combination feeding and finally letting go of the idea that it had to be breastfeeding or nothing.

For me, breastfeeding aversion became one of the first reminders that this pregnancy would ask me to let go of things before I felt prepared to. I wasn't ready for our breastfeeding relationship to change. But motherhood seems to be full of these small goodbyes that happen quietly, long before anyone else notices them.

Looking back now, I wish someone had told me that breastfeeding aversion doesn't mean you've stopped loving your child, that you're ungrateful for your breastfeeding journey or that you've failed somehow. Sometimes our bodies simply change before our hearts are ready to.

If you're reading this while dreading the next feed, crying through nursing sessions or feeling guilty for wanting it to end, I just want you to know that you're not alone. I know how incredibly lonely it can feel, and I know how much shame can come with those emotions. But none of them make you a bad mum.

Breastfeeding aversion is incredibly hard to navigate, and every emotion you're feeling is valid. The frustration, the sadness, the anger, the guilt and the grief... they're all allowed to exist alongside the immense love you have for your baby. The two are not mutually exclusive.

For me, it did get better. Not overnight, and not in the way I originally expected, but with time I found a way forward that worked for both of us. Whether that means continuing to breastfeed, pumping, combination feeding or deciding it's time to stop, none of those choices change the kind of mother you are.

One day this season will simply become another chapter of your story. But for now, if all you can do is take it one feed at a time, that's enough.

Love, 

Charlie