Sometimes it is, and I'm here to say that it's okay.
From the time my brother came into this world, breastfeeding was normal for me. I witnessed my mother do it as well as other friends and family members. I rarely saw a baby with a bottle and if I did it was due to the mother having to work. I never once thought that I'd bottle feed my child with the exception of when I returned to work, and even then, I never thought I would be a formula mom. Then I became pregnant and things changed.
During my pregnancy (which was textbook perfect, not a single issue or major complaint here) I did some reading on women with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and childbearing. I have read a great deal of literature on PCOS in general and how it relates to fertility and conception, however reading more research on PCOS and pregnancy brought some major questions to mind. I first had a notion that breastfeeding would be difficult when I started reading about PCOS and tissue development. Some women with PCOS end up with tubular breasts due to a lack of glandular tissue. That glandular tissue is what produces milk during lactation. Some women have perfectly normal shaped breasts and still lack that glandular tissue, however tubular breasts are a tell-tale sign that something is different. I brought my concerns to my doctor (after crying about the possibility of not being able to feed my child) and she said "we really can only wait and see what will happen. You could produce milk without any issues, or you may not produce enough to exclusively breast feed."
Fast forward to after Vaughn's arrival. Despite having a pretty serious upper lip tie (that we still are working on having fixed), he latched pretty well. I could hand express colostrum which made me so happy. He nursed pretty well and seemed content for the first couple of days. He had lost weight before we discharged from the hospital which was normal so we didn't think anything was wrong. We brought him home and he became a little more fussy than normal. Upon taking him to the doctor, he had lost even more weight. We scheduled a follow-up for the following week and that's when everything changed. At that second appointment I was told he had lost 25% of his body weight and it was most likely due to my not producing enough milk. She told me that I was basically starving my child and had to begin supplementing immediately.
I drove home and cried. I called Bill and cried. I called my mom and cried. I sat at home, held my son in my arms, and cried. I had felt like such a failure. How could this be happening? I wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant in the first place and I did, so shouldn't that mean the same for my breasts and feeding my child? Thankfully I had a free sample can of formula in the house, so I was able to give him his first bottle.
And I cried.
Then I started doing research, and found that so many formulas are made of really crummy ingredients. I ended up using the Honest Company and was thankful that he had no reaction to the change. (I mean I get that formula is higher in calories than breast milk, but does it have to be made with corn syrup as the first ingredient as well as vegetable oil solids? I don't use veggie oil in my own house. I'm not feeding this to my child!)
Then began the insanity that is a supplementing mother's life. For each time Vaughn is hungry I nurse him on both sides. Once he's done at the breast, I feed him a bottle. When all is said and done, I strap myself to my pump and pump for 10-20 minutes. Do you know how often an infant eats? I feel like I'm hooked to my pump all day. I do this though to try and boost my supply. The more you nurse and pump, the more you're sending a signal to your brain and breasts to make more milk. You are also killing your nipples in the process, but thank God for lanolin. I should take stock in the stuff. With all of this pumping, I was only getting maybe a quarter of an ounce of milk a day. I didn't produce enough to give in a bottle even over a couple of days. I was syringe feeding Vaughn whatever I pumped as soon as I was done pumping.
I made lactation cookies, lactation bites, lactation smoothies. I am taking fenugreek three times a day. I'm staying as hydrated as possible and am attempting to get enough calories(from good foods) so I produce enough milk. Slowly but surely my production has increased. It's still not much compared to your typical mother, however to me, each drop is gold and I'm ecstatic. I rented a hospital grade pump and learned the art of hand expression to try and get even more for my son. I even invested in a manual pump to keep by my bed so I can pump quietly without having to disturb anyone by getting up and moving around the house. Through all of this work, I managed to pump more than I ever have in two days. 
I pumped five ounces. And I cried.
Why put myself through all of this stress? Breast milk has so many benefits. Did you know that the compounds of your breast milk change with your child's needs? Your breasts actually take in some "backwash" from your child and send signals to your body to produce and distribute different antibodies and bacteria needed. Pretty cool, right? I see it as every drop I can give him is better than nothing, although I harbor no ill feelings towards any mother who exclusively formula feeds. I understand now more than ever the many reasons why formula is an option.
These five weeks with Vaughn have been hard and stressful and a test of my will and emotions. They have also been five of the most incredibly rewarding weeks of my life. To see my boy grow, develop a personality, recognize my voice and navigate his world is awesome. To see his strength and his persistence (like rolling from his stomach to his back at a week old, holding his head up to look at me while he's on my chest or scooting himself across the floor on his belly while he's on his activity mat...) to take in his surroundings blows my mind. I wouldn't change it for the world. I will continue to pump, to hand express and nurse for as long as my body decides it will make milk for my son. If that means hauling a set of "pumping luggage" with me everywhere I go or sacrificing some of what little sleep I can manage, so be it. If that means crying when I knock over a bottle of milk, even if it's only drops, well that's what I'll do.
