I had d-mer, also known as dysphoric milk ejection reflex, after my first baby. It's rare to have this, but those who suffer it truly do suffer and it happens before their milk lets down. It causes an intense, negative experience during the letdown process that may make the person feel similar to a panic attack or uneasy. Sometimes, I would feel thirsty, angry, confused, hot, and scared all at the same time while trying to nurse my sweet, hungry newborn who also had bad latch issues. I had milk for 5 weeks before I couldn't handle it any longer and then she was on formula full time.
My daughter had issues with all the formulas we tried. She became consistently constipated and was slow to gain weight until she was about 3 months old. It was just as much torture to watch my baby go through these issues, but we finally found out she had a milk protein allergy and a new formula eased her issues some and she went on to be fed by that during her infancy.
That diagnosis of d-mer didn't happen until a couple of months before I became pregnant with my second, so I had developed an overwhelming guilt at "quitting" breastfeeding my first. I didn't know what was wrong with me. It felt like for some reason, I hated feeding my baby. That same baby that my heart gushed over every other second of the day. That guilt made me fight like hell to get resources and assistance available so that I was prepared to breastfeed my next successfully.
I attended some La Leche League meetings during my pregnancy and did research on all things breastfeeding. I decided to set a goal of 2 years nursing time for my little guy, if he would have it. Baby came and there were minor latch issues, so they gave me a nipple shield right after they brought him to me because he was very, very hungry and needed some colostrum and to go ahead and nurse. We kept using it, as he wouldn't latch without it and I was terrified he would reject me and I would lose my milk. I kept my baby close, nursed on demand, offered the breast after every single 2-3 hours, and believed with all of my might that I would be able to do it!
I did. I did breastfeed! That child breastfed for 13 months and may not have even stopped so soon if I hadn't gotten pregnant again with my third, but there was another hell of hurdles to pass to get to that point.
Besides the nipple shield, baby nursed really well and frequently for awhile. He gained weight and was content with good diapers.
About 3-4 months in, his weight started slowing down. I became paranoid that I wasn't making enough milk. I had read that basically only 1% of women can't breastfeed and had assured myself already that I couldn't possibly be in that percent. I hushed my fears and continued nursing as I had.
Here's some info: At 3-4 months postpartum, women experience a change in how their milk is regulated. Prior, hormones from pregnancy + supply and demand of baby help make the milk. During the time frame mentioned, hormones fall off and supply is regulated simply by supply and demand. Babies with latch or transfer issues will tend to drop in weight gain during this time. I was completely unaware of this.
Skip ahead to my baby being 8 months old and I finally admitted there was a problem. I would have nights where my son never unlatched and would cry hysterically if I moved the milk away, followed by days of nursing him every 45 minutes. His diapers weren't getting tighter and I could tell I didn't have enough milk. I tried to wish it into existence, but it didn't work! I found out he had an upper lip and tongue tie and we found an ENT to revise them at 10 months old, allowing his mouth to open properly for good milk transfer. We worked on weaning the nipple shield. I pumped. He started on donated breast milk because I couldn't stomach the idea of another baby with formula troubles. I obsessed over his weight gain and as he gained every ounce due to another mother's milk and not my own, I delved deeper into postpartum depression.
I would jump up from bed on those sleepless nights of marathon nursing and run out of the room crying, "I can't do this! He hates me! I am failing him and starving him!" I would cry the biggest alligator tears, the kind that makes you just long for a shoulder to fall into.
I would often look at my baby when he was fussing because he wanted more than I was giving and feel absolutely inadequate to be his mother if I couldn't do the simplest thing---breastfeeding him.
When he would take his bottles, I would have someone else give them to him mostly because the time spent feeding him would consume me into an anxiety attack over getting my supply to fill his belly. Perhaps my supply could have recovered, but I ended up with a surprise baby #3 and the pregnancy completely took away what supply I had.
I kept going, even though the struggle and pressure (from myself and society) of breastfeeding really was causing me to lose my grip on reality.
The prep for baby three was different. I wanted to be set up to have any ties revised quickly and I had a ton of hope that there wouldn't be any issues. When he came, we nursed straight away with no shield, which felt like a major victory to me. I looked in his mouth and suspected he was tied, but no one else agreed and I finally accepted that it was all in my head.
I saw his weight start slowing down around 3-4 months and immediately started doing things to increase my supply. I was trying to maintain that this baby didn't have the ties and that the problem was all me. I took herbs, drank teas, pumped, and kept nursing as much as possible, but we quickly got to the point that we needed to supplement him with donor milk. He took straight to that bottle and my supply never recovered. I took it so horribly...I couldn't understand how I could be so foolish! I felt like I just let my milk go away, even though I really tried so many different things and gave it my all. I wanted that milk to nourish my baby at my breast for the entire time that he needed it. I felt robbed, too, especially because I had just been through another traumatic birth and desperately hoped a nice, long nursing relationship would be my token of happiness to keep me out of the despair of PPD that usually creeps up on me. I cried a million tears from the loud feelings of inadequacy.
He just weaned right before 8 months old and it has been a real grieving process. I would say it has been easier to handle the loss of something so special and important to me this time, but I was a little more prepared to build myself up with positivity than I had been in the past. There were times at the end of my nursing relationship with my second that the thought of not making enough milk for my baby threatened to kill me. I try to keep reminding myself that every drop counted and that in the grand scheme of things, what really, TRULY matters is that you feed your baby and nourish yourself.
It's okay if you never breastfed and it's also okay if you did for one day, 33 days, 100 days or 1,000. We ALL go into motherhood trying our best to raise healthy children and whether they were breastfed full term or not will not be the deciding factor on if you succeeded as a parent. We all deserve to spend more time loving on our families and our self than we spend criticizing and worrying about our own choices. I chose to not put myself through the months of guilt again. I allow myself a few moments of sadness sometimes when I'm thawing the donor milk and it would certainly be easier to pop a boob in his mouth, but I also allow myself to celebrate what we accomplished together by looking back at nursing photos that make me smile or by logging on to a breastfeeding support group and offering up the advice and information that I've collected over the years.
I want mothers to reach their breastfeeding goals, but I want mamas to feel proud and confident in their abilities to raise their child even more.
