Breastfeeding is more than just nourishment—it’s comfort, connection, and an act of love that binds mother and baby in the quietest hours of the night. But in those same quiet hours, when the world is still and the weight of responsibility feels heavier than ever, the thoughts can creep in. The worries. The “what ifs.” The uninvited fear that settles in your chest.
Maybe you’ve had them, too.
“What if something happens to me? Will my baby starve because he won’t accept a bottle?”
This was my greatest fear. Not just a passing thought, but a deep, gnawing worry that lived in the back of my mind for months. And then—twice—it became my reality.
When my son was nine months old, I collapsed in the middle of the supermarket. Working 70-hour weeks, breastfeeding on demand, and running on fumes, my body had simply given out. My potassium levels were dangerously low. The exhaustion I had been pushing through—ignoring, because wasn’t this just what mothers did?—had finally caught up with me. I only thank God I hadn’t made it to my car before it happened.
Nine months later, it happened again. My heartbeat was irregular. I was dizzy. And then, I passed out.
You know what they say—if you don’t learn the lesson the first time, life will teach it to you again. And again.
I had convinced myself I had to do it all. That asking for help was an admission of failure. That my baby needed me and only me. That I should be able to handle the sleepless nights, the long days, the endless giving of myself—without breaking.
But the truth is, we were never meant to do this alone.
The Loneliness of Motherhood: A Modern Problem
“How will my child ever fall asleep independently when he only wants to nurse to sleep?”
“Am I making a rod for my own back?”
“Am I coddling my son by nursing him beyond infancy?”
Mothers have always nursed their babies to sleep. They have always breastfed beyond infancy. They have always been close, responsive, attuned to their children’s needs.
The difference? In the past, they had help.
They had grandmothers, aunties, sisters, a community of other women to carry the weight with them. In many parts of the world, they still do. But in modern, conventionally Western societies, we have been conditioned to believe that we should be able to do it all—alone.
We hear things like:
“You chose to have a baby; this is what you signed up for.”
“You’re the mother—this is your job.”
“If you need help, maybe you shouldn’t have had kids.”
And so, we push through. We give and give, until there is nothing left.
Until we collapse in the supermarket. Until our hearts stutter with exhaustion. Until we find ourselves whispering in the dark, I can’t do this anymore.
But here’s what I’ve learned: Taking care of ourselves is not selfish. It is survival. It is the ultimate act of love.
Asking for Help is a Radical Act of Self-Preservation
“Will I ever sleep through the night again?”
“Can I actually die from sleep deprivation?”
“How will he sleep at daycare without me there?”
The world was never meant to rest solely on your shoulders. You were never meant to carry the mental load of motherhood alone. It is not weak to ask for help. It is not failing to need rest.
We have to actively seek the support we need, because the world around us is no longer designed to offer it automatically. We have to recondition our minds to believe that we are worthy of rest, that we are deserving of care, that we do not have to earn the right to breathe.
We have to ask for help—and do so without guilt.
Because when mothers are taken care of, they take the best care of their babies. Their children. Their families. By extension, the entire fabric of society.
And so, if the intrusive thoughts are getting louder—if the worry is consuming you, keeping you awake at night, stealing the joy from these fleeting days—please, ask for help.
Talk to someone. A friend, a doctor, a therapist. Find a lactation consultant who understands. Build your village, even if you have to do it piece by piece.
Because you are not meant to do this alone.
You are not weak for struggling.
You are not failing because you need support.
You are not broken.
And one day, these thoughts will quiet.
One day, you will sleep.
One day, the weight will not feel so heavy.
One day, you will look back on these nights, these worries, these moments when the burden felt unbearable—
And you will see the strength that carried you through.
You Are Not Alone
If any of this resonates, if these thoughts have ever whispered to you in the dark, speak to your family doctor as a matter of urgency and tell someone you love and trust, too.
Maternal Mental Health Support
• Postpartum Support International (PSI)– Global support for postpartum anxiety, depression, and intrusive thoughts. Includes helplines, therapist directories, and online support groups. Visit PSI
• Mind UK (for UK-based mothers)– A trusted mental health charity providing support for postpartum mental health concerns. Visit Mind UK
• The Blue Dot Project– A campaign to raise awareness and break the stigma around maternal mental health struggles. Learn more
• Crisis Text Line– If you’re struggling and need immediate support, text a trained crisis counselor 24/7:
• UK:Text “SHOUT” to 85258
• US & Canada:Text “HOME” to 741741
• Australia:Text “HELLO” to 741741
Building Your Village
• Peanut App– A space for mothers to connect, share experiences, and support each other. Join Peanut
• Local Mum & Baby Groups– Check your community center, library, or social media for breastfeeding meet-ups, baby-friendly yoga, and parenting support circles.
• Facebook Groups– Many local breastfeeding and gentle parenting groups provide peer support and reassurance.
Give Yourself Permission to Ask for Help
If you take one thing from this, let it be this: You do not have to do this alone.
Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is an act of love—for yourself, your baby, and your family.
If the intrusive thoughts feel overwhelming, if exhaustion is making it hard to function, or if you just need someone to hold your hand through this season of motherhood—reach out.
You deserve support. You deserve rest. You deserve to be taken care of, too.
And when mothers are cared for, the whole world is better for it.
With love,
Danielle
❤️
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