"When I was pregnant with my twins, I didn’t think too much about breastfeeding them after their birth. For one thing, every mom I spoke to told me it would be next to impossible to nurse two babies. For another, I knew that fed is best. I figured I’d give nursing a try, attempting to tandem breastfeed my twins through every nighttime feed (spoiler alert: This particular vision did not pan out, but we’ll get to that later) and ride out breastfeeding my twins for as long as it felt right.
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I never expected to still be nursing on my twins’ 3rd birthday or to fall madly in love with our breastfeeding journey—especially not in those first few months of motherhood, where the constant cycle of feeding not one baby but two felt like the most difficult thing I’d ever done. Here’s what I learned after breastfeeding my twins for three years.
Breastfeeding is not as intuitive as it seems
After welcoming two premature infants after an emergency C-section, I was so overwhelmed by simply trying to keep us all alive. I quickly realized that breastfeeding can involve a massive learning curve—one I simply didn’t feel like I had the energy or wherewithal to manage.
But each time one of my babies was ready to feed, a nurse would come and place them on my chest. Getting them properly positioned to feed was such a struggle. Once that was accomplished, there was the matter of getting them to latch. Then, keeping my babies in place for the whole feed was another challenge. One of my children spat up after most feeds, and the other wanted to feed around the clock (even while the other was eating).
“Breastfeeding can involve a massive learning curve—one I simply didn’t feel like I had the energy or wherewithal to manage.”
It immediately became clear that the picture of smoothly nursing two infants at once looked nothing like my reality. Even though a lactation consultant assured me I’d be able to breastfeed my twins at some point, it just felt flat-out impossible to figure out how to nurse one baby at a time, let alone two.
During one particularly tough feed, I remember thinking to myself, “This is just not for me. I need to switch to formula as soon as we get home.” It just felt like such an uphill battle, one I was forced to fight alone. But little by little, it began to click.
The strange thing about breastfeeding, I learned, is that it felt like my body knew what to do and my babies knew what to do—but getting it all to come together was a real challenge. Sometimes breastfeeding works out, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes you have no way of knowing whether or not it will even fully snap into place.
It was hard work, maybe the hardest physical work I’ve ever done, which sounds counterintuitive when you’re talking about something that mostly involves sitting in one place. I’m proud of myself and my body for exclusively breastfeeding two babies—but I also know that it wasn’t just my own will but also my personal circumstances that made it possible.
When you remove the hurdles, breastfeeding can be a joyful experience
Once breastfeeding began to feel a bit easier, I told myself I’d set a goal of nursing for three months and then reevaluate once I reached that point. I hit that mark and realized nursing was getting easier and easier every day—so I decided I’d attempt to go to the six-month mark. Once we were there, I was becoming so comfortable with breastfeeding that I was even able to start attempting to tandem feed my twins, which had felt way too complicated in the early days. I began to really love breastfeeding around that point, and I liked the simplicity of not having to wash bottles or carry formula with me every time we left the house.
I decided to attempt exclusive breastfeeding for a year, and that marker came and went as well. At that point, I decided to drop the goals and just let it unfold without a real plan in mind. Slowly, the nursing sessions began to get less frequent as my kids began eating more solid food. They still nursed every night at bedtime and when they needed that extra bit of comfort, which eventually turned into bedtime feeds only.
People often talk about wanting their bodies back to themselves, and I absolutely understand this desire. But I think we need another narrative when it comes to breastfeeding: It can become a really enjoyable experience. As my babies became increasingly mobile toddlers, our nursing sessions became rare—and precious—moments of stillness.
Successful breastfeeding requires structural support
Circumstances played a huge role in my ability to push past the early hurdles of nursing. I was able to focus solely on caring for my babies because I had enough time at home with them. I quit my full-time, in-office job before they were born, giving myself a full five-month unpaid maternity leave before transitioning slowly into freelance work.
Being able to focus on caring for them and my physical recovery made all the difference in my breastfeeding journey: I didn’t have to return to the workplace weeks (or even days) after giving birth, which is an unfortunate reality for so many new moms. When I did resume paid work, I did so with flexibility and the ability to work from home. I didn’t have to return to an office and pump without privacy, built-in breaks, or in an unsanitary environment. Breastfeeding is nearly impossible without paid leave, flexible work arrangements, proper postpartum care, and a support system that can help with feeding the mother, managing a household, and more.
“Breastfeeding is nearly impossible without paid leave, flexible work arrangements, proper postpartum care, and a support system that can help with feeding the mother, managing a household, and more.”
So my message to mothers who wanted to breastfeed but weren’t able to make breastfeeding work is this: You didn’t fail. You just weren’t set up to succeed.
Ultimately, whatever way you feed your baby is a good way. Whatever path you decide is best for your family is the right path. But I know so many parents who desperately want to breastfeed, and it just doesn’t work out because they aren’t giving the time and space to make it work, and that’s not on them—it’s on our system, which just doesn’t do enough to support early motherhood.
The breastfeeding judgment is real
I know so many moms get shamed for opting not to breastfeed at all, and others get judged for not breastfeeding “for long enough.” And then, of course, there’s the other side of the coin: You can also be judged, as I was, for breastfeeding “for too long.”
The standards and judgments applied to breastfeeding are so emblematic of the standards and judgments applied to motherhood in general: You simply can’t win in the court of public opinion. You’re held to this high, nearly impossible standard—to feed your baby solely from your own body, to do a job no one can step in and help you accomplish—yet you’re asked to do so without any support from the outside world. You’re asked to breastfeed ‘round the clock (but never in a place where you can “violate” someone else’s “comfort!”), yet you’re also asked to resume your pre-baby life and body and pace without missing a beat—and the math simply isn’t mathing.
Only you know what the best approach is for your family
In the United States, a lot of people consider breastfeeding beyond a year “weird” or “creepy,” but the World Health Organization and the American Academy of Pediatrics actually recommend breastfeeding for two years or beyond. Of course, this isn’t realistic for most families in the United States, but that doesn’t mean it ought to be stigmatized. There’s no research to support the idea that extended breastfeeding will lead to developmental delays or any other type of harm to the parent or the child. In my gut, I knew I was doing the right thing for my kids (and myself) by nursing them beyond “the norm.”
There’s no right or wrong time to stop breastfeeding
Once my kids began approaching their 3rd birthday, I began thinking about how we’d wean. And one night, while my husband was on a work trip and the three of us were snuggling before bed, I just felt it: It was time.
I nursed my twins at the same time, something that once seemed completely impossible but slowly became second nature. I told them that this would be the last time they’d have “Mama milk.” They were fine; I sobbed into my pillow after they fell asleep. It was the end of a really beautiful, incredibly fulfilling chapter in our story together, one I’ll cherish forever—especially because I know we did it in the right way for our family.
Zara Hanawalt, Contributing Writer
Zara is a twin mom and freelance journalist with over a decade of experience covering parenting, women’s health, and culture. In addition to The Everymom, she’s written for outlets like Vogue, Marie Claire, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, Parents, Shape, Motherly, The New York Times for Kids, What to Expect, and many others. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, cooking, travel, watching TV, and trying new restaurants.