Lucy sat on the edge of her bed, exhausted. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. In her arms, little Jam squirmed, his tiny fists clenched, his face red with frustration. His cries pierced the quiet night, filling the room with an aching sound of hunger and desperation.
Lucy’s heart ached. She had tried everything—cradling him, rocking him gently, whispering soothing words—but nothing seemed to calm him. He wanted what she could not give.
No More Milk
For the past few days, Lucy had noticed a change. Her milk supply had dwindled, and no matter how hard she tried, it just wasn’t enough. She had tried drinking more fluids, eating lactation-friendly foods, and even massaging her breasts in the hope of stimulating milk production. But nothing worked.
She knew Jam was hungry. She knew he needed her. But her body wasn’t cooperating.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down at her baby, his tiny mouth searching for nourishment that wasn’t there. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered, stroking his soft cheek. “Mommy has no more milk.”
But Jam didn’t understand. He only knew hunger. He cried harder, his little body tensing as he struggled against her.
The Rejection
Lucy had a formula bottle ready, sitting on the nightstand beside her. She hesitated for a moment before picking it up. She had never imagined she would have to supplement. She had hoped to breastfeed exclusively, to nourish her baby the way nature intended. But now, she had no choice.
She gently pressed the bottle’s nipple to Jam’s lips, hoping he would accept it. But to her dismay, he turned his head away, whimpering in protest. His small hands pushed against the bottle, rejecting it.
Lucy’s heart broke a little more.
“Please, sweetheart,” she pleaded softly. “This will help you. Please drink.”
But Jam refused. He wanted her milk, not this artificial substitute. His cries grew louder, his little body arching in frustration.
A Mother’s Despair
Lucy felt helpless. She had always heard that breastfeeding was natural and easy, but no one had warned her about this—about the heartbreak of not having enough milk, about the guilt of not being able to feed her baby the way she wanted.
She wondered if she had done something wrong. Had she not eaten enough? Had she been too stressed? She blamed herself, even though deep down, she knew it wasn’t her fault.
She rocked Jam gently, humming a lullaby as tears streamed down her face. “Mommy is here,” she whispered, even though she felt like she was failing him.
Finding a Solution
After what felt like an eternity, Jam’s cries began to weaken. His little body trembled with exhaustion. Lucy took a deep breath and tried again. She dipped her finger into the formula and touched it to his lips. He hesitated but licked it off.
Encouraged, she tried again. This time, he opened his mouth slightly, tasting the milk. Slowly, she brought the bottle back to his lips. He resisted at first but, eventually, took a few hesitant sips.
Relief flooded Lucy’s heart. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was something.
A New Journey
That night, Lucy realized that motherhood wasn’t about perfection—it was about love, patience, and finding ways to meet her baby’s needs, even when things didn’t go as planned.
She held Jam close, feeling his tiny body relax against hers. The formula wasn’t what she had hoped for, but it was what he needed. And that was all that mattered.
As Jam finally drifted to sleep, his belly full, Lucy wiped away her tears. She had feared that her inability to produce milk would create a distance between them, but she realized now that love wasn’t measured in ounces of breastmilk.
Love was in the way she held him, the way she comforted him, and the way she never gave up on him.
And that was enough.
