My pregnancy & postpartum journey: Particularly how breastfeeding saved my life
Postpartum depression is a killer and that’s a fact. Unfortunately we don’t talk enough about it.
I had postpartum depression (PPD), and I was closer to the edge than I’ve ever been before… I was pregnant, stuck in a country without my husband during lockdown 2020. Not knowing when I’ll see him or my close family again.
The uncertainty and sinking feeling I had in my stomach during my pregnancy was hell. I had Hyperemesis gravidarum (severe vomiting), an hypothyroidism (underactive thyroid condition) and gestational diabetes. I had to come to terms that I was going to give birth without my husband by my side, and that literally broke me! It ripped me to pieces mentally!
My pregnancy and the birth that followed put me through a depression state leaving me physically scarred and suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. But the horror didn’t end after delivery. In many ways, it got worse after I gave birth.
During the postpartum period, I had to learn how to take care of a newborn alone. With very little sleep, with weird raging hormones, and with a body in pain, that was still healing from a C-section.
While I knew I was at risk for PPD, I was in no way prepared for the deep depression I would sink into. It was scary. Thinking back now I was in so much denial. I filled out the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale but filled it out as if nothing was wrong…
Fortunately, I had my step mom and dad that took real good care of me, and pretty much made me get the help I needed, relatively quickly, but in the interim, there was one thing that carried me through.
Breastfeeding…
I really wanted to breastfeed my son. I think that’s the part of what was so powerful about it for me. It was the fact that I was needed by this small human I created in my uterus for 38.5 weeks. It was something I wanted so intensely, and in the midst of the hell that was postpartum and situation I found myself in, I discovered the love of breastfeeding. I consented to a C-section, as my health of having gestational diabetes and an under active thyroid was too high risk for me risking giving natural birth. Honestly in the state I was in, thinking back now, I would’ve never been able to give natural birth. I have made peace with that within myself now. But back then it was hard to make that decision.
Our son was handed over to me clean and dry, wrapped in a white hospital swaddle. My step mom had to pull the little red hat up, to show me that my son was born with a ton of lovely dark hair just like his Daddy. He was beautiful and perfect — but he also felt like an alien to me. We stayed in the hospital for four days. It wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted that perfect birthing experience and my husband by my side. But unfortunately that never happened for us!
And so, I resolved to feeding him according to my birth and postpartum plan. It was not easy, in fact it was extremely painful breastfeeding and I had a low supply of milk. There was a steep learning curve, for both of us. It was only with the support of my step mom and the help of my midwife (and an army of lactation consultants) that I managed to do it.
After everything we’d been through, It felt like the least I could do for my son. I had believed that my body would know how to breastfeed my baby and that it would be instinct, but that was not the case, it was a learning process for both myself and my son.
Breastfeeding releases calming hormones in both the breastfeeding parent and the baby. It was not enough to counter the flow of depression completely, but there were certainly days, and moments, when I felt a difference. When everything else was wrong, I could still cuddle up with my baby boy and make sure he was fed. And then we would both nap.
When you are an exhausted wreck of a human being, that is such a blessing and moments I’ll never forget.
People respond to depression differently. When I am sad, I find it almost impossible to eat and though, as an adult, I know better than to give in to my tendency to avoid food, the depression that followed and that I had be a responsible grown up. I had to feed my son.
Breastfeeding makes you hungry. Anyone who has ever done it is nodding along right now.
You need more calories to make breast milk for a new baby than you do to grow the fetus that will become the baby. I have never been so hungry in my life. So I fed my Son. And I ate. I ate sandwiches as it was the easiest thing to put in my mouth. I Kept myself alive — without stopping to think about how I didn’t want to swallow anything — because I was hungry and tired and dizzy and desperate for sustenance.
Bigger than those things, though, breastfeeding kept me alive by bringing me back to my body. After such a traumatic experience the unique combination of PPD and PTSD caused me to nearly completely dissociate from the world. To simply put it, I just didn’t feel “real”. My body had become a terrifying place, and so I ignored it as much as I could, cutting myself off from the physical world and living instead in a world of fears, memories, and self-harm fantasies.
I spent hours sitting in bed, staring at the walls of my room, doing the bare minimum needed to take care of my baby. I’m certainly not proud of that time. I was so spaced out, that I don’t even really remember the beginning of my son’s life. I know there were days when it was so scary that I was being watched. I’m grateful to those who watched me.
When I was feeling apathetic and far away, when I was terrified of my own being and everything else, I still had to feed my baby. For some sufferers of PTSD, that is the ultimate cruelty. For me though, it turned out to be a blessing.
Breastfeeding brought me back. It kept me in my body, forced me to hold my son’s body, and helped me stay connected to the physical reality of everything around me. What I remember are flashes of joy in the deep darkness, his tiny hands clenched in determined fists, his feet curled against my soft stomach and kicking his legs. The release of the milk starting to flow. My arms wrapped around him. That is what kept me going… that what kept me alive…
But then just as I thoughts things would start getting better…
At 5 weeks old my son had emergency surgery as he was diagnosed pyloric stenosis. Pyloric stenosis is an uncommon condition in infants that blocks food from entering the small intestine.
Normally, a muscular valve (pylorus) between the stomach and small intestine holds food in the stomach until it is ready for the next stage in the digestive process. My son was in surgery to treat pyloric stenosis (pyloromyotomy), the surgeon made an incision in the wall of the pylorus. The lining of the pylorus bulges through the incision, opening a channel from the stomach to the small intestine.
I was fortunate to have support from everyone around me. Although it wasn’t physically support… I longed for a hug and that physical human touch but due to the pandemic everyone kept their distance. I felt very alone… My husband and I video-called each other day in and day out. As you can imagine it did put a huge strain on our relationship, especially as we were ten thousand kilometers away from each other.
Breastfeeding did not cure my depression, but it was a bridge that made recovery possible. I was lucky, my step mom is a superhero nurse and she got me the help I needed. It was hard talking about these feelings and thoughts I had. If you are suffering from postpartum, or any other form of depression, please get the help you need and deserve. That doesn’t have to mean you need to take meds, but it’s OK too!
South African borders opened up in the beginning of October 2020. I was able to book a flight back home to SA. My son was three and half months old when he met his dad for the very first time. It was a very emotional and happy reunion that I will never forget! I was finally back in my husband arms with our handsome baby boy!
Nowadays I do things every day that seem impossible during the nightmare that was my life three years ago. I play with my son and watch him grow and discover his world. I am still breastfeeding him once a day. He is happy and healthy.
Written By Sjanelle
Founder of Made To Lactate