Breastfeeding is awesome, by which I mean it sucks.
It is awesome to have a poor, innocent, 7 week old infant pull off your boob due to imminent threat of drowning only to have milk shoot across the room at approximate 190 mph, bouncing off walls and impaling cats along the way. Meanwhile you're frantically trying to pat the back of the choking infant, reach for a boob milk container, any container dammit, and save some of the boob milk, by which I mean liquid gold. Because you know you can't let any of that stuff get away, you've worked too hard at creating it. In a panic you even ask your poor husband to hold said container to your boob while you try to comfort the now screaming infant who is currently furious that he is hungry and gasping for air at the same time. Oh, and wet because you sprayed him with milk from the part of your boob that pointed leftwards.
And because he now has nightmares about drinking from your boob but he has no choice but to be stuck in front of the damned thing 8-10 times a day and forced to try he now shrieks bloody murder every time you even lay him down on his side facing the target object.
This is fan TAS tic for milk production. Because, you know, stress doesn't inhibit let down at all.