Breastfeeding Part 2

As I sit here writing this, I realize that my inability to breastfeed is probably 50% of the reason I developed postpartum anxiety to the extent that I did (uh, coherent?). Breastfeeding is one of those things that I thought I would have no trouble doing. I knew how to change a diaper, bathe a newborn, get a baby to sleep and swaddle. I took birth classes and felt prepared to bring a baby into this world the old fashioned way. I felt confident that I would be able to have my baby sleeping through the night by 12 weeks (she does!). So never in my wildest dreams did I think that I wouldn't be able to produce enough milk to nourish my offspring.

The issue I have with the world is this: there are not enough resources for moms who have trouble BFing or who choose not to. If you google blogs about babies and feeding them 90% are about breastfeeding and how glorious and wonderful it is. You have to really know how to trick the google gods to get a result for a formula feeding mom. Or wait, is it just that formula feeding moms don't put it out there that the formula feed? The best, and possibly only, resource I found was Fearless Formula Feeder. She provides practical knowledge about feeding your baby formula and support for those who choose/have to.

Speaking with moms on message boards and moms in real life I learned quickly that there is a feeling of shame associated with formula feeding for many moms. The problem here is that formula feeding is way more common than LLLI wants you to believe, and just like BFing moms need support, so too do FFing moms. How do you know when to increase ounces? What are the signs to look for for a formula intolerance? When do you know to try a new nipple flow? Should you hold your baby back or more upright? Unless you are going to call your pediatrician every time you have a question, it would be helpful to have more resources for FFing moms. I know the BFing community would be bullshit about this, because then it might seem like we are encouraging FFing feeding (and who cares if we do?!), but it's really unfair that FFing moms are so often left in a dark place, alone, feeling ashamed. 

No, I never in my wildest dreams thought my first baby would be exclusively on formula by 10 weeks, but you know what, she was. And she is really fucking cute, healthy and will grow up to be whatever she wants to be because what she eats today won't matter on her college application. What will matter is that she had parents who loved her, encouraged her to be curious about the world and learn, and who supported her in achieving her dreams. Who cares what she ate as an infant? And who's business is it of anyone's to judge me or her for that? I wish there were more resources for moms like me, because even if I know there is no shame, I still feel like I have to explain why I am formula feeding every time someone asks. Ugh.

Postpartum OCD

When I first sought help for my postpartum mood disorders we all thought it was just anxiety. Even my doctor thought that. She started me on a drug that I had taken before for anxiety however she started me on a lower dose. Over the 10 days that I took it I would start each day hopeful that it would be better than the day before but by bedtime it was evident that I was significantly worse with each passing day. 

The red flag for my doctor, which led her to the additional diagnosis of postpartum OCD, were the terrible horrible thoughts I was having. Every day I was struck by the fear that my baby and/or I would meet our demise in some freakshow fashion. One night I lay awake in bed fearful that someone was going to break into my baby's room, kidnap her and chop her into a million pieces. I know. Totally fucked. I was hesitant to even share that because I don't want to be judged but the truth is, this is real and maybe there are other women out there wondering "what the hell is wrong with me that I am thinking these terrible things."

The difference between postpartum OCD and postpartum psychosis, in regards to thinking these terrible things, is that a woman with PP OCD is totally repulsed by these thoughts and would not act on them. In my case they result in paralysis and an inability to function normally, including not being able to leave the house or leave the baby in anyone else's care. I was terrified that if I told my doctor that social services would show up and take my baby (I've been assured they won't). 

I've been doing sone reading and learned that postpartum OCD is often misdiagnosed and misunderstood. Woman who experience it don't know why, and many, like me, don't feel at all depressed or tearful so it can cause confusion since everyone talks about postpartum depression but no one talks about these other postpartum mood disorders. The lesson here is that if you or a friend is experiencing this, know that it is a valid concern and no one is going to judge you for it. The most important thing during the postpartum period is a healthy and happy mama, because without that you can't have a healthy and happy baby, or marriage, or life.

Finally I think tomorrow will be a better day than today...

Coming Out of the Closet

I'm not sure what feels dirtier to me... Admitting to the public that I couldn't breastfeed my child or admitting to the public that I have postpartum anxiety. In regards to the former, at least I tried, right? It's not like I just shoved a bottle of formula in her face the second she was born (and really so what if I had. Who the F am I to judge another mother?). I put in all the energy I had to breastfeed this baby and it just didn't work for me.

But admitting that I am mentally unstable and medicated? That is a challenge. Postpartum mood disorders are like the elephant in the room. Your friends and family will ask if your breast feeding, if your perineal tearing is healing, if you had a c-section, what kind of birth control you have chosen, but no one (well rarely) will ask how your moods are. No one REALLY wants to open up that can of worms because they are afraid of what you might say. 

I think people saw me start to crumble at the edges before I admitted it myself. I think this because looking back multiple people gave me "the look". The one that says "you seem a little unstable but I'm afraid of offending you since this could be new motherhood and I think you already don't like me anyway so lets just talk about the weather shall we?" There was one time when I even offered an opportunity to some family members... I said "I think I might go back on meds to help with my transition to work" which was given a "oh yes, that could be a good idea. Are you hungry?"

No one asked. I wanted someone to ask because I couldn't cough it up on my own. The day I cracked and called my doctor was a rough day. I opted to call my PCP since I felt like I would fall off my OB/GYNs radar... they would treat me and then send me packing. Maybe not, but in a moment of clarity I knew I needed to talk with someone who would be caring for me for many years, not just when my uterus was carrying my offspring. Anyway, it was hard to admit even to her. She said "tell me what is going on" and I sat there stunned for a moment... you could hear my blood in my eye sockets it was so quiet.

I'm angry. I am always fucking angry. I am only not angry when I have my baby. I can't breathe. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't stop eating. I want to run away. I feel guilty about having to go back to work. When my baby is out of my sight I am paralyzed. I freeze right where I am until I can see her again. When she so much as whimpers, I jump out of my skin, worried that something terrible is about to happen. I never let her cry. Every time we get in the car I think silently "if we get an accident please please please let it not be serious." I can't drive or go for walks without picturing our terrible demise. I don't let anyone else go up and down stairs with my baby. I don't let anyone else bathe her. I don't let anyone else change her diapers. There isn't another person in the world that I trust right now.

That's what I told her. And she told me not to worry. That there was light at the end of the tunnel. That this is far more normal than I might realize and that I was a good mom. I needed to hear that. I slept really well that night.