Even before I became pregnant, the idea of me breastfeeding made me uncomfortable. I was never uncomfortable around others who were feeding their babies, but picturing myself doing it was… unsettling.
While pregnant, I did a lot of research on the subject and, as every mother can attest to, I wanted to provide what was best for my child. The benefits of breastfeeding are invaluable. I had a lot of anxiety while I was pregnant and this was just a little more fuel to that fire. I practice meditation as a sobriety tool and I spent many days and nights trying to ease my mind about the thought of breastfeeding through meditation. It wasn’t external pressure I had, I particularly do not care what others have to say about the way I choose to parent, so luckily that was a non-issue. No, the pressure to breastfeed was an internal, personal one. How dare I not give my child the nutrition and bonding that she deserves because the thought makes me uncomfortable. It is natural, it is incredibly amazing, and it is free.
In the hospital the first couple days, the discomfort was present, but I was in the clouds. No discomfort would prevent me from doing what’s best for my baby. It was there, but the elation that I was experiencing after having my baby was preventing me from fully experiencing the feelings of discomfort in the pit of my belly. I fed her with a shield because that’s how she latched, I pumped to supplement and we finger fed her to get her enough nutrients, we supplemented with formula because I wasn’t producing enough for her demand. It was all perfect. As those early hours peeled away even though time seemed to have stopped moving, the feeling began to creep up into the forefront of my mind.
At home, I was going to power through the discomfort at any cost because I was not going to let whatever my fucked up feelings were about something so important to her well being get in her way. Well, if you’ve ever flown anywhere you know the rule: put your oxygen mask on before assisting others. You can’t help anyone if you’re dead.
Within the first week it was becoming increasingly apparent that I may not be able to live this way. Every time I fed my daughter (every two hours at first followed by pumping) I would also be crying. I wasn’t able to speak to anyone else while I was feeding or pumping. There had to be something funny on the TV because otherwise I was actively searching my mind for ways to end myself. This was not sustainable.
I, of course, began googling the symptoms.
A deep well of feelings of shame and guilt in the pit of the stomach rising up to the throat. Increasing in strength the longer baby or pump was latched on. Thoughts of having made a mistake, thoughts of suicide. Which led to thoughts of immense guilt and thoughts of shame at the thought of abandoning my child and leaving her without a mother. Shame and guilt for feeling like I made a mistake because how could such a perfect little soul ever be a mistake? She was not. Thoughts of guilt about stopping because my supply was good and she was latching on better than ever. The cycle of shame and guilt caused by feelings of shame and guilt finally culminated.
Google came up with a possibility called “D-MER” dysphoric milk ejection reflex. Everything fit except the description of D-MER was experiencing these feeling on the let down, not the entire time. Everyone is different and experiences things in different ways. When I mentioned this to the lactation consultant, she encouraged me to continue trying. When I mentioned this to my therapist, she reassured me that it was okay to stop.
I spoke to a few wonderful mothers who said “just stop, it’s okay. Formula is a valid option”. I had also spoken with some wise women prior to getting pregnant (I’m a hairstylist and my clients are all women, we talk all day long and I am grateful). One woman in particular who had experienced struggles with breastfeeding suggested that I write myself a letter before I give birth that expressed, in my own words, that it would be okay if I had to stop breastfeeding. I am grateful for the words from these women. It was necessery and helpful. My husband was supportive of anything I chose to do. He could see how visibly disturbed this was making me and fully supported whatever decision I made. I am lucky.
I lasted three weeks breastfeeding. I’m not sure if what I was experiencing was D-MER or not, but what I am sure of is that the second I stopped breastfeeding and pumping, the quality of the bond between my daughter and I immediately became better. I may have been feeding her with a bottle of formula, but she still snuggled into me because she knew I was doing what was best for her. I may not have been using my gifts provided by mother nature herself, but I wasn’t sobbing into my baby while contemplating death as a valid option as she ate her meals.
I know there is a lot of support for both breastfeeding and formula feeding, but the internal turmoil the debate can cause could be debilitating for a lot of mothers out there.
It’s always okay to do what you need to do. Women are written off as being “overly hormonal” during and after pregnancy, but those hormones are real. The emotions that we feel are valid. Listening to your body when it is telling you something is important, and when we create life, our bodies have to scream at us to make sure we are listening. It’s okay to listen. It’s okay to break promises to yourself when your body is screaming at you to do so.
✌🖤
Ps. Formula is expensive as fuck, and that really sucks, but I am very grateful that we were in a position to (barely) be able to afford it. I understand it isn’t an option for everyone due to cost. I don’t have answers for this problem, but I recognize the privilege we had of being able to access a second option to feed our child.
roxii 
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