The Identity Shift of Becoming “The Milk Machine”

I remember the exact moment I realised I no longer felt like me. I was sitting on the floor, half asleep, shirt pulled halfway up, holding a pump to my chest while scrolling through my phone with the other hand. It was around 3am. 

The room was quiet, except for that rhythmic, mechanical sound that had become the soundtrack of my life.

I wasn’t thinking about my dreams, or what I wanted to do that week. I was thinking about ounces. Letdown. Timing the next pump. Wondering if I had enough for tomorrow.

I loved my baby fiercely. But in that moment, I didn’t feel like a mother. I felt like a machine.

When Your Body Stops Feeling Like Yours

No one prepared me for the identity shift that happens when you become your child’s source of food. It’s such an intimate thing, and yet it made me feel... distant from myself.

My body, once mine, became a 24/7 milk station. Not just for feeding, but for regulating, soothing, comforting.

Whether I was latching or pumping, I couldn’t escape the feeling that my body was always in service. Always on. And when you’re in that constant state of giving, it’s so easy to forget that you’re allowed to want things too, like space, quiet, rest, or simply the right to say no.

The Guilt of Feeling Touched Out

I never used to understand what “touched out” meant, until I found myself quietly pulling away from people I love. Not because I didn’t want closeness, but because I had none left to give.

After hours of holding, nursing, and rocking, the smallest touch made me flinch.

There were days I’d snap, not because I was angry, but because I was overwhelmed. And then the guilt would come, layered on top of the exhaustion.

It felt selfish to want space when I was supposed to be soaking in every moment. But now I know: needing space is not rejection. It’s survival.

The Kind of Fatigue No One Talks About

Yes, I was tired. But the real fatigue wasn’t from the lack of sleep - it was from constantly calculating.

Did I pump enough today? Should I add more brewer’s yeast?
Did I drink enough water? Why is my supply dipping again?

That mental checklist ran on a loop, even on days when I could barely eat or think straight.

And when I finally made the decision to stop breastfeeding, the grief hit hard. Not just because the journey ended, but because I had poured so much of myself into it - quietly, constantly, and often without recognition.

I’m Not a Machine. And Neither Are You.

Now that I’m no longer breastfeeding, I can look back with more gentleness. I see the version of me who powered through cracked nipples, clogged ducts, and 2am pumps.

I see the girl who cried in the shower because she just wanted to feel like a person again. I see a mother who loved deeply, even when she was too tired to feel it.

If you're still in that season, I hope you know this: You are not a milk machine. You’re a whole human. And even if your days are filled with feeds, pumps, or bottles, your worth is not measured in ounces.

You deserve softness. You deserve autonomy. You deserve to feel like you again.

And that feeling will come back. I promise.