Breastfeeding Does Not Cause Postpartum Anxiety or Depression
Breastfeeding Does Not Cause Postpartum Anxiety or Depression. There I said it.
Moms want to breastfeed. We want to nurse our babies because we know that it’s the best thing for them. And for us.
And I’m not just saying this. This is factual information.
Over 80% of pregnant moms plan to breastfeed.
More than 83% start out breastfeeding.
But only 1 in 4 make it to the exclusive breastfeeding goals set by health organizations: The World Health Organization (WHO) recommends exclusive breastfeeding for the first 6 months of life, followed by continued breastfeeding with appropriate complementary foods for up to 2 years or beyond.
But I want to make this CRYSTAL CLEAR:
This isn’t about lack of effort.
This isn’t about low motivation.
This isn’t about women who “didn’t try hard enough.”
This isn’t about boobs not working as they should.
This is about how you were set up to fail from the start.
You were told breast is best—and then got a single 15-minute hospital visit with a lactation consultant who gave you different information from what your nurses said from what your OB said from what Google said from what your best friend said.
You don’t have paid leave, so you had to worry about pumping to build a stash while you were figuring out how to nurse your baby in peace.
You have people offering formula samples and coupons and telling you to have some in your cabinet just in case.
You’ve heard so many horror stories and stories of people struggling and failing that you enter the breastfeeding relationship as sort of a, “I’ll give it a try and hopefully it works out” kind of thing instead of “Yeah, of course I’m gonna breastfeed because THAT’S WHAT BOOBS ARE FOR.”
They tell you it will come naturally, but when it doesn’t and you’re alone, exhausted, and scared that you’re starving your baby, you end up scrolling Reddit for advice.
And when the latch hurts, or your supply dips, or your baby won’t stop screaming, you blame yourself.
And everyone else blames you, too. EVEN OTHER MOMS.
So no, breastfeeding doesn’t cause postpartum anxiety.
The shit culture you live in does.
You live in a world that tells you breastfeeding is sooooo important for your baby while systematically sabotaging you every step of the way.
The Weaponized Truth of “Breast Is Best”
I need to say this though: Breast is best.
That’s not made up. That’s evidence-based. That’s biology. That’s wisdom passed down through generations of moms who breastfed successfully because they were supported, not because they were stronger or more committed or magically pain-proof.
The nutritional, immunological, emotional, and physiological benefits of breastfeeding are well documented. It’s protective for babies and for moms. There is no arguing this.
BUT: Breast is best only when mom are given the time, support, and community to actually do it. Only when moms feel comfortable whipping out a boob to nurse in public without getting the side-eye or an earful of bullshit from some condescending human who is offended by seeing am mother feed her baby the way babies have been fed for millennia because “my son doe snot need to see that!” Meanwhile her son sees boobs everywhere being exploited and pinned on billboards and selling shit in the mall.
FUCK THAT NOISE.
These fuckers have weaponized the truth.
They tell you “breast is best” and then tell you to get to it, even with no paid leave, little to no accessible lactation support, no family infrastructure, and a partner who thinks that since he has to get up and go to work the next day, you get to do all the nighttime wake ups.
And then when it doesn’t work out the way you hoped?
You believe you failed.
You weren’t committed enough.
You didn’t try hard enough.
You “weren’t producing enough.”
You “should’ve switched to formula sooner.”
Or worse: you should’ve known better than to think you could do it in the first place.
Again. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.
“Fed Is Best” Is Not the Comfort You Think It Is
This is where that neat little phrase shows up:
“Fed is best.”
It’s supposed to comfort moms. And sometimes, in moments of crisis, it can.
But “Fed is best” is a cop-out created by a society that doesn’t want to take responsibility for failing us.
It flattens the conversation. It makes it sound like all feeding options are equal—when they’re not.
Breast milk is uniquely beneficial. And you know it. That’s why you attempted it in the first place.
What is shameful is pretending the only thing that matters is whether the baby got calories, while moms are physically and emotionally breaking down trying to survive a feeding system built on lies.
“Fed is best” isn’t liberation. It’s damage control.
It says: “You didn’t fail—just shut up, buy the formula, feed the baby, and move on.”
But it never asks:
Why was breastfeeding so hard in the first place?
Why were you alone?
Why did your provider ignore your latch pain?
Why did you go back to work at 6 weeks postpartum?
Are you sad that it didn’t work out the way you hoped?
“Fed is best” puts a bandage over a bullet wound and calls it empowerment.
And women buy into it. And I don’t fucking blame them . As a loss mom, an IVF mom, and an unplanned cesarean mom, I can attest to the fact that it absolutely sucks believing your body failed you and your baby. It feels good to have somewhere to send the disappointment. The pain. The sadness. The rage.
But as long as women continue to buy into this message, we will never see any systemic change.
Here’s the real truth:
Breast is best—and moms deserve the systemic support to succeed.
When moms don’t meet their own breastfeeding goals, we need to send the rage to those at fault.
When we say that breastfeeding causes postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression, we’re just doing what we always do — putting the blame on mom instead of the system.
This Is Political
Breastfeeding is more than a personal choice.
It’s a political act—and one that’s nearly impossible in a system that was not built to support moms.
Capitalism Doesn’t Give a Shit About Your Milk Supply
The United States is the wealthiest country to ever exist on this planet. And we are the only developed nation without paid parental leave.
Why do you think that is?
New moms are expected to go back to work bleeding, leaking, sleep-deprived, and traumatized—and act like nothing happened.
You’re supposed to smile through meetings, meet deadlines, and maybe sneak in a pump session between Zoom calls if you’re lucky enough to have a job that even allows it.
Breastfeeding is only “free” if you don’t value a mother’s time, energy, sleep, or mental health.
No one tells you that:
Breaks to pump might be your legal right, but good luck actually enforcing that without risking your job.
Hospital-grade pumps can cost hundreds of dollars, and most insurance coverage is garbage.
WIC often pushes formula instead of providing the comprehensive lactation support low-income parents actually need.
Because breastfeeding doesn’t make anyone rich.
But formula sure fucking does.
That’s a nearly $6 billion increase in profits over less than a decade.
That’s not a coincidence.
It’s not an accident that they make breastfeeding feel impossible—while pushing formula as the easier, more “modern,” more accessible choice?
This is what capitalism does best:
Create a problem by gutting support systems, then sell you a solution.
Devalue your labor, then profit off your exhaustion.
Convince you that your body isn’t enough, and then charge you for the replacement.
Capitalists dismantled your village and made you pay for one instead.
Patriarchy Keeps You the Default Parent
Giving birth to your baby doesn’t mean you also signed up to run a 24/7 household, manage your own recovery, nourish another human with your body, and remember when the dog needs their flea meds.
But in a patriarchal system that’s exactly what you’re expected to do.
Historically Speaking…
The idea of the “default parent” is a legacy of 19th-century white, Western ideals of domesticity, where women were positioned as the moral center of the home and men were the breadwinners.
In other words, women were told their labor wasn’t real work—it was just part of being “a good wife and mother.”
That ideology never went away. It just got rebranded as "leaning in" or "doing it all."
Even today, in 2025, women in heterosexual households still perform over 70% of unpaid domestic labor.
Moms in the U.S. spend an average of 4.6 hours per day on unpaid caregiving compared to dads, who average 2.4 hours.
And when it comes to baby care, the gap widens.
Default Means Invisible
No one notices that you know where the baby socks are. That you refill the diapers. That you scheduled the pediatrician visit. That you are tracking wake windows, Googling latch positions, washing pump parts at midnight, and trying to figure out if your baby’s rash is “normal” or “call an ambulance.”
This is the invisible labor of motherhood. And patriarchy makes sure it stays invisible—because if no one sees it, it has no value.
Even when men “help,” it’s often performative:
They hold the baby while you cook dinner.
They change a diaper and expect a medal.
They “babysit” their own child but don’t do anything else so going out ends up being more trouble than it’s worth.
And how many of them are proactively learning how to support your breastfeeding journey?
How many are waking up with you for night feeds, not because you asked, but because they see it as their responsibility, too?
(Exactly.)
Patriarchy Celebrates Basic Dads
Our culture rewards men for being “involved” at levels that wouldn’t even register for moms.
Dad takes paternity leave and he’s a hero.
Mom takes maternity leave and she’s told to enjoy her vacation.
Dad brings a bottle to daycare pickup and he’s met with thundering applause.
Mom breastfeeds for 2 years and she’s met with judgment.
This is purposeful. And it’s breaking moms.
Lactation isn’t just about boobs. It’s about sleep, food, stress, time, and accurate information.
It’s about a system of support that doesn’t exist for most moms—but would never be missing if men were the ones expected to do it.
Colonialism Erased Ancestral Wisdom
Before breastfeeding was medicalized, pathologized, and commercialized, it was communal, embodied, and sacred.
Before Western, male dominated medicine showed up with its white coats and charts, breastfeeding a collective ritual. A rite of passage. A family act.
Moms nursed their babies. Aunties, grandmothers, cousins, and even community wet nurses stepped in when necessary.
Babies were passed from chest to chest.
New moms were expected to rest, heal, and be cared for while they recovered and learned how to nurse.
In indigenous cultures around the world, breastfeeding was the norm—it was protected by community infrastructure and cultural knowledge that had been passed down for generations.
Then colonialism came.
And like it always does, it declared itself superior.
Western medicine dismissed indigenous practices as “primitive,” “dirty,” or “backward.”
They erased midwifery. They criminalized traditional birth workers. They discredited wet nursing unless it was done under white control, for white families.
And as formula companies rose, they actively marketed formula as modern, scientific, and superior.
They told colonized communities that their bodies couldn’t be trusted.
That their milk wasn’t clean. That formula was better.
And they specifically targeted Black, Brown, and poor women with this messaging, while white women were simultaneously shamed for not breastfeeding
Formula wasn’t invented as a helpful option. It was weaponized as a tool of white supremacy and capitalism.
In the U.S., this legacy is still going strong.
Meanwhile, immigrant mothers often find their traditional postpartum practices dismissed or shamed by hospitals and providers who insist that the white, Western way is “evidence-based,” even though much of that evidence was built on controlling and exploiting the very people it now pathologizes.
So when we say “breastfeeding didn’t work out,” we need to ask:
Did it really not work out?
Or was it sabotaged the moment we were told our ancestral ways were inferior?
I say this all the time, and I’ll keep saying it until we are all saying it:
You weren’t meant to do this alone.
You were meant to be held You were meant to be supported. You were meant to have a village. And colonialism stole that from us.
But I suggest we take it back.
Now: Postpartum Anxiety
(I’m saying it again: it isn’t your boobs, it’s the system.)
Breastfeeding ≠ Destroyer of Mental-Health
Breastfeeding itself is not some sinister trigger that “causes” postpartum anxiety (PPA) or postpartum depression (PPD). If it were, women would have been drowning in mood disorders for the last 300,000 years.
What the research actually shows:
Protective, not poisonous. Meta-analyses consistently find that successfully breastfeeding lowers the odds of PPD by roughly 14%–50%. One 2022 review of 18,570 mothers reported a 14% risk reduction overall, and a 53% reduction with exclusive breastfeeding. pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.govpubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov
Early weaning under duress is the risk factor. When breastfeeding is painful, undermined, or abruptly stopped, that predicts more anxiety and depression symptoms six months later—especially for moms who were already stressed in pregnancy. pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov
Perceived pressure backfires. Feeling hounded to breastfeed without matching support spikes guilt and anxiety, according to 2024 qualitative work. journals.sagepub.com
So, no—your body didn’t betray you. The combination of pressure + zero practical help did.
How the System Manufactures the “I’m Failing” Spiral
Essential message + zero infrastructure
Society: “Breast is best—don’t screw it up.”
Reality: Two-hour hospital crash course, a handout, conflicting advice, and good-luck-at-work-in-six-weeks.
Outcome: You internalize every cracked nipple and shallow latch as personal incompetence.Patriarchal default-parent trap
You’re already carrying 70 % of the domestic load. policycentermmh.org
Add around-the-clock feeds and pump-part sanitizing, while your partner thinks “watching the baby” earns him a badge. Sleep debt + invisible labor is a recipe for anxiety.Capitalist cost-of-living chokehold
Median mortgage payments these days are a whopping $2,209 a month (April 2024) —and rising. rocketmortgage.com
They’ve convinced you that a bigger house, nicer car, and Amazon hauls are the secret to happiness. But that “big life” demands two incomes and puts you back at your desk leaking through your shirt instead of napping with your newborn. Chronic financial tension is a prime PPA driver.Colonial hangover = isolation
Your ancestors breast-fed in a village of aunties; you’re doing doom scrolling at 3 AM by yourself in the dark. When community care was stripped away, maternal distress filled the vacuum.
When Can Breastfeeding Contribute?
Of course, every rule has an exception, including this one. There are situations where the act itself piles on distress:
Uncontrolled pain or mastitis that providers dismiss.
True low supply after exhaustive troubleshooting.
Rare hormonal mood triggers (e.g., severe dysphoric milk ejection reflex).
These are clinical edge-cases, not the norm—but if they happen, treatment (sometimes including weaning) is necessary... It’s health-care, not “failure.”
The Bottom Line
Breastfeeding doesn’t cause postpartum mood disorders—capitalism, patriarchy, and colonial disconnection do.
When moms chase the “big-house, big-stuff, big-life” dream sold by late-stage capitalism, they trade communal rest for 30-year mortgages and quarterly performance reviews. The cost is paid in cortisol and midnight tears. This includes moms who are at home whose first response to this discussion is usually, “But my husband works 80-hours a week!”
I’m sorry, but if your life requires your partner to be gone for 80 hours a week, maybe something needs re-evaluating.
Of course, we can’t ignore privilege here.
Some families are trapped in survival mode, working multiple jobs just to keep the lights on. But that’s not the same as choosing a lifestyle that demands two incomes to maintain a Pinterest-worthy nursery and twice-yearly Disney trips. These are the moms blaming breastfeeding for their postpartum anxiety. We’ve been sold a lie: that more stuff equals more success, and that motherhood should fit neatly into the cracks of productivity culture.
But as I say a thousand times a day, we were not meant to do this alone. Not the late nights. Not the back to work at 6-weeks. Not bouncing back. Not the healing, the holding, the regulating of tiny nervous systems while ours are on the edge of collapse.
We’re isolated because the village was burned down by capitalism and buried under patriarchy. And then we’re told it’s our fault that we’re exhausted, anxious, and rage-filled.
Breastfeeding isn’t the problem. Lack of support is. Disconnection is. A culture that devalues caregiving and glorifies grind culture is.
Want to heal postpartum? Start by burning the blueprint they gave you. You don’t need to optimize your schedule—you need a revolution.
If you’re spiraling right now, remember:
Your body isn’t defective. The system is.
Want a radical fix? Shrink the mortgage, expand the village, demand paid leave, redistribute night feeds, reclaim rest, balance the load. Keep the milk flowing if you want to —and let the system, not you, take the blame if it doesn’t work out how you imagined.
So Here’s What I Want You to Know:
If you didn’t meet your breastfeeding goals, you did not fail.
You were set up by capitalism, by patriarchy, by colonialism, and by a healthcare system that sees you as a vessel, not a human being.
BUT:
You don’t have to quit to feel better.
You don’t have to give up what you wanted just because this culture made it feel impossible.
There are a million things that can change before you stop nursing.
You can change who’s in your corner.
You can change how you rest.
You can change how your household functions.
You can say, “No, actually. I deserve help. I deserve to be supported.”
You can stop trying to fit into a system that was not meant for you—and start building a life that works for your actual brain, body, and baby.
And yeah, that takes radical change. It won’t be easy.
It might mean challenging your partner, your provider, your parents, your own conditioning.
It might mean saying no to hustle culture, toxic independence, and fake feminist “you can have it all” bullshit.
It might mean reclaiming traditions, instincts, and truths that this culture tried to erase.
But it’s possible. If that’s what you want.
And even though it feels like it, you’re not alone.
You weren’t meant to do this without support.
You weren’t meant to pour from an empty body.
You weren’t meant to parent in isolation, in silence, in shame.
And if that feels like a radical idea—it’s because the system has convinced you it is.
It’s not radical. It’s natural. It’s normal.
And I say let’s make radical the new normal.
When breastfeeding doesn’t work out the way you hoped—or even when it does but leaves you depleted and alone—it’s easy to blame yourself. But that disappointment and heartbreak… that rage simmering just beneath the surface? It’s not a flaw in you. It’s a response to being told that "breast is best" while being handed absolutely none of the support needed to make that possible. That rage is a sign something needs to change—not in you, but around you. If you’re ready to turn that rage into clarity and reclaim motherhood on your terms, get yourself on my email list and grab the Angry Mom Survival Checklist. Because it’s absolutely time that we stop surviving and start defying. If not for us, let’s do it for our babies.
