Category Archives: mental health

“Where is the mother in the discussion?” An interview with Walker Karraa on maternal mental health and infant feeding

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Some of you may know Walker Karraa from her comments on our Facebook community page, or from her fantastic posts on Science & Sensibility. But I doubt you’re aware of the full magnitude of her bravery and dedication to issues surrounding maternal mental health. I recently interviewed Walker for a short piece on formula feeding and postpartum adjustment, and was so blown away by her answers – I was only able to use a few of her wise words due to word count constraints, so I’m thrilled she’s agreed to let me post the interview in full here on FFF.

Walker is a doctoral candidate at Sofia University, where she is conducting a study on the transformational dimensions of postpartum depression. She was also the founding President of PATTCh, an organization founded by Penny Simkin dedicated to the prevention and treatment of traumatic childbirth, and is a perinatal mental health contributor for Lamaze International’s Science and Sensibility, Giving Birth With Confidence, and the American College of Nurse-Midwives (ACNM) Midwives Connection. Like that wasn’t enough on her plate, Walker also served as social media manager for the Integral Leadership Review, and has her own social media consulting business, On My High Horse, and is currently working toward co-authoring a book regarding PTSD following childbirth with Kathleen Kendall-Tackett, Ph.D., IBCLC, FAPA. 

I’m exhausted just reporting all of that. And did I mention she has two kids and is a breast cancer survivor? Yeah, she’s all that and a bag of reduced fat potato chips.

I hope you guys will appreciate the revolutionary nature of Walker’s discussion here – her opinions, while brilliant, probably seem uncontroversial to those who follow this blog, but they are quite “rogue” in the birth/maternal-child health community. I can’t thank her enough for being a dissenting voice and speaking up for the benefit of all women. 

FFF: Here on FFF, we see stories almost weekly which discuss how a perceived “failure” to breastfeed can lead to depression, anxiety, and self-esteem issues. Do you think the maternal mental health community has recognized how breastfeeding (or lack thereof) can affect the emotional state of new moms?

Walker Karraa

WK: I think that overall breastfeeding is very well addressed in the health psychology, and developmental psychology fields. What’s lacking is the reframe of the research to integrate more qualitative data, and methods, into the consideration of the full range of implications of breastfeeding from multiple perspectives—including the woman’s perspective.

In a 1985 Lancet article on maternal mortality, Allen Rosenfield asked the famous question, “Where is the ‘M’ in MCH (Maternal Child Health)? In the discussions of MCH, it is commonly assumed that what is good for the child is good for the mother.” (Rosenfield & Maine, 1985, p. 83). In many ways this is relevant in the discussion of breastfeeding and maternal mental health. Where is the mother in the discussion? And in what ways do we still assume what is good for the child is good for the mother? For me, this is all about reproductive rights and a deeper issue about our discomfort with women’s sovereignty over their reproductive, physical, and mental health.

The mental health community has responded to the growth in published data regarding infant health and breastfeeding. This has also been the funding stream for a large part of the last 20 years. But maternal mental health has yet to directly address a woman’s infant feeding choice as a part of her reproductive choice, rather than discrete periods of time that occur with as a continuum of events that are inextricably woven through reproductive events—none of which, taken by themselves, gives either the best data on mental health.

FFF: What do you feel needs to change in order for new mothers to be better supported in terms of mental health in general?

WK: I think one of the first calls to action must be for maternal care providers to get support in knowing that perinatal mood and anxiety disorders are common and create the conditions for morbidity and mortality for mother and children. This is starting to happen, but still very slow. I think new models of medical care such as Dr. Michael C Lu’s life course model, which places the woman at the center of care, not the doctor. And, she is treated across the lifespan, not merely when she is pregnant. This facilitates better reproductive health in preconception and interconception, and uses a reproductive life plan for women and families from an early age. At puberty, to have a conversation with medical, nutritional, mental health providers as to planning one’s reproduction (girls and boys) would be ideal.

FFF: Many women struggle with the decision of whether to treat postpartum or prenatal depression/anxiety with psycho-pharmaceuticals, especially when they are breastfeeding. Why is there such mixed information and messaging about what drugs are safe, and what the relative risks are (ie, breastfeeding without meds vs breastfeeding on meds vs formula feeding and taking the meds)?

WK: Not having good information is a barrier to care for everyone involved. The OB/GYN or midwife, the social worker, the woman, her partner and family—when we don’t have good information, we cannot make informed choices. And for women in poverty, the risk is twofold. Specifically regarding breastfeeding, but also education across the board regarding psychopharmacology, pregnancy, and lactation. With organizations such as OTIS (Organization of Teratology Information Specialists) and Motherisk, there really is no excuse for not having current evidence-based data regarding risk and benefit of untreated depression and anxiety, as well as risks and benefits of medications used to treat them.

Byatt et al. (2012) did a wonderful grounded theory study regarding community mental health provider reluctance to providing psycho-pharmacotherapy. 28 obstetric care providers (nurses, OB/Gyns, etc.) shared how they perceive community mental health practitioners as obstacles to psychopharmacology for perinatal women. The participants felt community mental health providers “99% of the time” discontinued a patients’ medication, and put women at risk of relapse. Secondly, Byatt et al., (2012) reported that participants perceived a lack of collaboration and communication between community mental health care providers and OB/Gyn providers, and that pharmacists also “further impede or delay depression treatment by not filling needed psychotropic prescriptions, often exacerbating women’s mental health symptoms” (p. 3).

FFF: Why do you think so many women express grief, guilt, and feelings of failure around the subject of infant feeding?

WK: Because that is their experience! And I attribute all of it to social constructs that are completely ingrained in medical, social, and mental health systems that have been made for and by men. The intentions of those men is not necessarily nefarious, and not really the point. It is that the constructs we have to measure ourselves (abilities and weaknesses) are made by men. We tell women from the get-go that they need us to be good mothers. They need our insight, knowledge, treatment, book, video, technique, services, product to be taught how to mother. This is so ironic, because so many of the birth movements have evolved from a call to empower women. But to empower, we have just made more systems of knowledge that mimic the ones we refute. That is not very popular to say, but it is true. The messages still given to women is that if they “know” something analytically, they are devoid of femininity, and if they “know” something inter-subjectively, they are devoid of ration.

Shame is a powerful force for women. And at no time in her life is a woman more susceptible to shame than early motherhood. If they are lucky enough to find a safe space to share their feelings without judgment, such as your blog, they are given the gift of voice. They can speak their truths.

FFF: Any tips for a mom who is having a tough time reconciling her use of formula?

WK: You know, when I was a doula, I had clients ask me to go buy formula for them so they wouldn’t be seen in public. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after the birth of my second, I underwent two mastectomies before she had turned one. I learned that my body parts have nothing to do with my inherent ability to love her. My breasts were gone—off of my body, one in one hospital and another at a hospital down the road. I fed, nurtured, attached with, loved, and parented without them…and still do! So my advice is to write down on a piece of paper: My breasts have nothing to do with my love for my child. And keep it where you can see it. Memorize it, know it.

FFF Friday: “We have to do what’s right for our family, not what’s right for others.”

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Welcome to Fearless Formula Feeder Fridays, a weekly guest post feature that strives to build a supportive community of parents united through our common experiences, open minds, and frustration with the breast-vs-bottle bullying and bullcrap.

Please note, these stories are for the most part unedited, and do not necessarily represent the FFF’s opinions. They also are not political statements – this is an arena for people to share their thoughts and feelings, and I hope we can all give them the space to do so.

Shannon’s story describes – in exquisite, painful detail – how different pregnancy can be when dealing with a prenatal mood disorder. With all the talk of mental health lately, I find it discouraging that we still pay so little attention to maternal emotional well-being. I think when we become pregnant – and again once the baby is born – we become invisible. We are no longer women, with our own needs, desires, and emotional struggles; we become incubators, and then feeding receptacles. It’s okay to subjugate ourselves, because it’s self-serving to do anything but. We are expected to be happy, glowing, and head-over-heels in love with our offspring, ready to do whatever it takes to give them the best. 

But there is so much more to it than that. There is so much more to us.

Thank you, Shannon, for giving us a glimpse into how too many women suffer during their pregnancies, and beyond. And most of all, thank you for doing what you needed to do in order to take care of yourself as well as your child. 

Happy Friday, fearless ones,

The FFF

***

Shannon’s Story

Most women are fully aware of post-natal depression and are highly oblivious of prenatal depression and anxiety. You see, pregnancy is supposed to be this happy thing. You glow. You are growing a baby. You are becoming a mom. Total strangers are quite curious creatures and want to know about mom-to-be. Your family members spread the news among their friends. Prior to the first appointment, our entire group of friends knew. Who then, in-turn, spread the ‘wonderful’ news to their friends. All of whom made me the center of attention, which was what I was trying to avoid. I wanted life to continue as normal. I am not the center-of-attention type of person nor am I a type-A personality. Unfortunately, my pregnancy was beyond normal filled with severe prenatal depression, anxiety attacks and suicidal thoughts. It was horror from the beginning.

I had major tendon reconstruction in my left foot a mere two weeks prior to conception. You would think two doctors in the same network with computerized access to my files would understand the predicament. How could I assume that? They were not on the same page; not even in the same book. My OB wanted a minimum of 35lbs. My podiatrist, on the other hand, wanted a maximum of 20lbs. That particular foot was braced and wrapped for my first three OB appointments. Both the OB and her nurse noticed and commented, but could have cared less. Quite possibly, could that have been my first red flag about how bitchy and cold this OB was? Maybe. However, I continued to go to her appointments.

Although I was discharged from the Air Force Reserves a few months prior, I still had the military mentality of being a gym-rat and keeping my weight in-check. Yes, in this day in age, that is great. Work out, be healthy; Eat right, be healthy. It was in-grained into my lifestyle. That almost perfect, athletic body was gone. I could not see past the ever-growing alien. Nor did I develop an understanding that I was supposed to gain weight. The weight gain was only the start of my life-altering struggles.

When I wasn’t highly denying the pregnancy to family friends, I raised my voice in terror. I wanted to disappear from this Earth; never wanting to leave the house, not talking about the pregnancy. To blatantly put it, I was becoming depressed caught up in the anxiety attacks, trapped in my own place, and terrorized by cameras. The flags where there. Yet, my OB, who I trusted with both of our lives to, ignored them. She asked the same questions every appointment. Never once asking about my mental health. I brought up the depression; she ran out of the examination room. She mentioned that my depression was not ‘deep enough’ for a mental health treatments. From that point on, I was repeatedly bitched at for lack of weight gain, for losing 10lbs prior to the 3rd month, hospitalized for dehydration and extreme nausea and most importantly, for continuing to use the gym. For me, the gym made me happy by equalizing the hormones in my brain. I felt normal for 2-3 hours. I swam competitively, ran on the treadmill and tossed 20lb weights like they were candy. Pregnancy is not a handicap, why must this OB believe I couldn’t do anything except walk? I cried prior to every appointment in fear of what new development to be horrified about. I cried after each appointment because I wasn’t gaining weight like I was supposed to. I checked into every appointment, but wanted to turn around and leave. My husband was actually supportive, listened to the complaints, witness the crying and was clueless on how to speak pregnancy without me overreacting in horror and terror. My pregnancy was far from normal and she wanted nothing to do with it. I could have followed a family request to switch, but I remained under her care.

I couldn’t get time off for the anatomy sonogram. I was on a days shift rotation at that time and worked 12 hour days. Needless to say, my work schedule didn’t sit well with either the scheduling nurse or the OB. They wanted the sonogram report yesterday. I didn’t want it done. Most importantly, I didn’t want to find out the sex. I was wishing this alien would leave my body. The earlier, the better. I was wishing for the sonographer to not find a heartbeat.  After the sonographer blurted out the sex of our child, I cried. I found out that we were having a baby girl. By this time, both families were extremely anxious for baby showers. Against our families wishes, I refused the baby showers. With my mental angst against the world, baby showers were out. I wasn’t in the mental capacity to act happy nor was I thrilled to see a camera. I was horribly petrified of cameras and mirrors. I didn’t want to see myself. There was no way that I could have gotten through a baby shower without crying or disappointing party go-ers. I was lectured about the so-called importance of baby showers and was called selfish for not putting my unborn child first.

I’m extremely anti-pink, so pink was immediately out. To blatantly put it, my husband owns more pink than I do. A baby girl is beautiful. She doesn’t need to wear tutus and pink to prove that. The thoughts of pink from my family members echoed sin and sorrow in my mind. My mother-in-law threw herself a grandmother shower and basically forced me into Babies R Us, Wal-Mart and Target to get ‘ideas’. The rule that I refuse to budge — absolutely NO pink. I painfully picked out some needed supplies. Did I get those supplies? No. What did I get from her co-workers? Ugliness, pure pastel pink ugliness. I do understand the thought was there, but why is it so difficult to respect the new mother’s decision? This made me hate my unborn child even more. I cried as I realized that my unborn child had to be photographed in clothing that resembled pepto-bismol vomit.

After being hospitalized for pre-term labor at 29 and 30 weeks, my OB’s colleague was appointed my care due to her vacation. He was an idiot and tried giving me medication I was highly allergic to. The doctor had zero bedside manner. None. He didn’t read my charts, missed the bright red band on my wrist with my drug allergy and refused to listened to the nurses who believed my daughter was well ahead of the suggested gestational age. By this point, my husband and I were discussing a switch to another OB. We finally had the third strike. How could we trust this colleague to possibly deliver our baby if he doesn’t understand medical allergies? He put me on bed rest. Four days later, I took myself off. The medication given to slow the progress of pre-term labor did nothing to ease the contractions. I returned to her care and 34 weeks, I immediately switched OBs. Granted it should have been MUCH sooner, but regardless, I stuck it out. Every legitimate complaint I had about the pregnancy was pushed aside. My daughter’s foot was painfully wedged in between my ribs, ripping apart the muscle. She acted blind about the problem, not feeling for my daughter’s foot or giving a suggestion about re-positioning her foot. Never once during my antenatal care, did she feel the position of the baby. Only measuring for growth.

I was debating about breastfeeding pumping at first, but soon felt trapped with my mother-in-law as she tried to take my bras into Babies R Us to find the ‘perfect’ pump. Neither one of her boys were breast fed. Quite honestly, she was living vicariously through me. She wanted the best for her grand-daughter, not some laboratory formula. She also had to take pictures of everything– Including the delivery (which I immediately shut down) and me feeding our newborn ‘properly’ with human milk. Every time my mother-in-law brought up the front row seat at the delivery, the terror re-surfaced. I screamed at her. I told her to watch the paint dry at her own place. I told her son will be the ONLY visitor until we go home. I wanted to deliver at a hospital without her knowledge.

The new OB immediately noticed the flags. She stepped in and talked with my husband and I about formula feeding. She mentioned that because of my imminent threat to develop postpartum depression, breastfeeding would have been the death of me. She understood the predicament and questioned the surgical scar on my foot. By delivery, I had gained only 22 lbs. Most importantly, I was still in MY clothing. Due to the severe depression and the painful position of my daughter’s foot in my rib cage, I was medically induced at 38weeks. She saved my life. Come to find out, she also saved my daughter’s life. Her placenta was in the process of rupturing. I had no symptoms to question that my daughter’s health was in jeopardy, just my typical every few minute Braxton Hicks.

As I checked into the hospital, the assigned nurse asked about my feeding preference. I gave her my formula requirement. All but one nurse happily understood. The night nurse was a so-called breastfeeding nazi and tried everything to get me to give my daughter the colostrum. The moment she woke me up to feed my daughter and pushed breastfeeding, I asked her to leave. The lactation consultant was nice enough to give me pointers on how to dry up my milk, if, and when it did come in. As my almost 9lb daughter was being examined by the pediatrician, she quickly noticed my daughter was approximately 41 weeks gestation. That would explain the partial placenta rupture.

As I talked with the OB the next morning, she made a comment that has stuck into my mind. Happy Momma = Happy Baby = Happy Family. My delivering OB in her greatness, worked with my husband and I on how to alleviate postpartum depression. Breastfeeding was out. Leaving our place with a newborn in tow was in. Talking to friends and family was a must. After the tumultuous pregnancy, our marriage has thrived and my husband taught himself how to bond with his daughter. My husband became a stay-at-home father for eleven months. Yes, it was a role reversal, but financially, it was our only option because I carried the insurances. He could feed her without needing me to pump. Most importantly, he could bond and developed his own style of parenting and feeding. After a year of infant and parental development, anxiety and challenges, I can happily say that postpartum depression has not reared its ugly head.

I’m all for breast is best for baby, but what many people fail to understand, in some situations, breast is not best for the new mother. Some mothers cannot breastfeed due to a medical condition, severe mastitis, surgery or a crazy work schedule. Some infants do not accept the mother’s breast. I could not stay home any longer than 6 weeks. Pumping in my line of work is not appropriate nor accepted. I work corporate aircraft flight planning and cannot step away from the flight planning desk for a five minute lunch break, let alone ten minutes to pump. We do not have a pumping room and work a twelve hour swing shift rotation. Pumping in traffic was also not an option. We have to do what’s right for our family, not what is right for others. Our daughter is an extremely healthy and active one year old. She’s absolutely perfect, formula baby.

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Share your story for FFF Friday. Email me at formulafeeders@gmail.com.

FFF Friday: I placed my mental health above what my son ate…”

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Welcome to Fearless Formula Feeder Fridays, a weekly guest post feature that strives to build a supportive community of parents united through our common experiences, open minds, and frustration with the breast-vs-bottle bullying and bullcrap.

Please note, these stories are for the most part unedited, and do not necessarily represent the FFF’s opinions. They also are not political statements – this is an arena for people to share their thoughts, and I hope we can all give them the space to do so.



I honestly don’t know what more I can say to introduce this piece, because the title says it all. 


Thank you, FFF Abigail, for illustrating how individual circumstances are far more important in what determines a woman’s feeding choices than formula bags, societal barriers, pacifier use, sub-par maternity leaves, or any other “booby trap”. Sometimes, a family’s decision is less about confronting barriers to breastfeeding, and more about confronting – and overcoming – personal barriers to health and happiness. 

I feel stupid saying my usual “happy Friday” today, since everyone in the US knows it is anything but. So instead, let me close with this:

Stay safe and happy, fearless ones,

The FFF
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Abigail’s Story
My mom died during my birth from poorly managed pre-eclampsia that was detected at a routine prenatal appointment.  I was born via c-section, after she was clinically brain dead, at 32 weeks.  In 1980, my chances of survival at 3 lbs., 3 oz. weren’t so good.  Fortunately, I inherited the family’s stubborn gene, and I persevered!  Obviously, I wasn’t breastfed; Similac was the drink of choice.  Despite being premature and being deprived of oxygen for some time while my mother was comatose (long story here), I thrived.  I had a normal childhood, was rarely sick, excelled in school, and got my PhD when I was 25.  Not too shabby given the fact that I was raised sans breast milk!
When I got pregnant with my son, I was elated!  But, pregnancy was a terribly nerve-wracking time for me.  I worried about pre-eclampsia and pregnancy complications as well as miscarrying, birth defects, etc., all while dealing with my husband’s crazy, special-ops military schedule.  I’ve always dealt with anxiety and mild depression, and I could make a profession out of worrying,  but my OB felt that it was better for the baby for me to go off my medication while pregnant, and so I did.  In hindsight, that might not have been the best decision, but I wanted my pregnancy to be “clean.”  I did a lot of reading and researching during my pregnancy…birthing options, feeding options, etc.  Reading about breast feeding nearly sent me into a panic attack…thinking about having supply issues and mastitis and cracked nipples and having a baby attached to me all the time and having issues forming a nursing relationship.  The more I read on the subject, the more anxious I got about the whole notion.  And, after a lot of discussion, my husband and I decided it was probably best if I formula fed…he could share some of the feedings and take some of the burden off of me…it would give him some quality time with our son since his career takes him out of the country very frequently…AND, most importantly, I could go back on my anxiety medication after giving birth without worrying about how it might affect by son via breast milk.  To us, formula feeding made sense.  And, since I wasn’t breastfed and turned out just fine, I never thought of formula feeding as something detrimental.
Fast forward to my son’s birth…an uncomplicated induction…an uncomplicated vaginal delivery…a beautiful baby boy…and my worst fear…less than 18 hours later, we learned that something wasn’t right.  My son had a rare craniofacial birth defect that would require surgical correction.  Craniosynostosis, a skull anomaly that occurs in one out of every 2000 births, occurs when one or more of the sutures (fibrous material that hold the bones of the skull open while the skull grows), fuse prematurely.  In our son’s case, two sutures had fused in utero.  Left uncorrected, he would have an abnormal head shape, the brain couldn’t grow properly, and he would likely suffer intellectual and developmental delays.  We met with a craniofacual surgeon when my son was 8 days old and surgery was scheduled for three months later.  The surgical correction involves an ear-to-ear scalp incision, breaking of the sutures, stabilizing the breaks with plates and screws that will dissolve over time, and, in my son’s case, re-shaping the forehead and the eye sockets.  The news was DEVASTATING.  I went back on medication immediately, and the 12 weeks we waited for H’s surgery were AGONIZING.  Though we knew the surgery was necessary, it’s horrible to contemplate something so major happening to your tiny son, and I am SO GRATEFUL I was using formula!!!  Had I not been on medication, I wouldn’t have been able to be a good mother during those weeks of waiting…and had I breast fed while on medication, my anxiety would have been unmanageable.  It might not make sense to those not in my shoes, and that is OK.  I’ve been told I shouldn’t have had a child if I wasn’t willing to breastfeed…that I was selfish…that I was harming my son…but I beg to differ.  Because I formula fed and because I placed my mental health above what my son ate, I was able to be the BEST mother possible to my son.  The mark of a good mother is not found in how she feeds her child…it’s in how she loves and cares for her child.  I’m his number one advocate…and now…a year post-op, to look at my brave little hero, you’d never know what he’d endured.  He’s a happy, healthy, thriving 16 month-old.  Breast may be “best,” but it wasn’t best for us!
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Share your story for an upcoming FFF Friday. Email me at formulafeeders@gmail.com.

“Maternity Leave” Guest Post: “Our boobs,Ourselves”

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Our boobs, Ourselves 

by FFF Alison


“Mothering through breastfeeding is the most natural and effective way of understanding and satisfying the needs of the baby.”  – La Leche League international


Pregnancy and motherhood is supposed to be a time to transcend and heal all the past little issues and focus on transforming into the new role as a mother and doting on and loving a wonderful child that will finally make you into a real-grown-up (or a mother goddess, take your pick), well that may be true in modern motherhood fairy tales, but in real life there are so many messages out there that can make even the strongest woman feel like a fat, acne ridden teenage girl on the first day of school; and for those of us with body issues and a history of eating disorders put us in that situation with our underwear.

So let’s talk boobs. I was obese (with acne) growing up and in my early 20s lost 100lbs and was very proud of my accomplishment, but being a perfectionist I found many flaws with my body (from my nose to my loose skin) and gained a little weight ( to a healthier weight: I was very thin at my thinnest, but in my mind I was a huge failure for being a size 6-8… I am on the taller side of average and big boned) and kept not feeling good enough which expressed itself in binge eating disorder. Wait I promised some talk on boobs, here is the irony, I was actually okay with my boobs post weight loss. They were tiny and widely spaced, but I actually had a very athletic build. As friends of mine complained about the pain of big breasts, I enjoyed the freedom of not having to wear a bra if I wanted to and when it came to my passion of running I could get away with shelf-bras that came with the running tanks. With padded bras and the fact they weren’t exactly shown to everyone around me, my boob really didn’t bother me at all.

From 2001-2005 a lot happened, I graduated university, I moved to a new city, I got a great job, I bought a house and I got engaged. In October of 2005, just after my 28th birthday I ran a half-marathon and 3 days after that I got two lines on a stick I peed on, yup I was pregnant.

I always wanted to become a mom, so even though this wasn’t planned, I was a little freaked, but very happy. I knew I wanted to be a good involved mother and without even picking up any book, study or lecture knew I was going breastfeed. My mom breastfed me and my brothers during the 70s, and many women I knew breastfed (naively I thought it was the norm, heck my half-marathon instructor would nurse during our talks before the run). I also researched the subject up and down.

Fast forward to the Summer of 2006 after an uneventful except for being overdue pregnancy and a greater than ideal weight gain my daughter was born. Actually the whole birth kind of sucked, I ended up with a csection after pushing for a while. That said she was almost a 9lber and was super alert so she never particularly looked like a newborn. Since I had a section I was put into recovery and 1 hour later was given my daughter to feed. She fed, went back to daddy at the nursery, and they monitored me as I had an infection and slight complication (healed quickly).

Anyway, soon after started the breastfeeding struggle.  Anyhoo, G’s weight kept dropping and despite nursing all the time, skin-to-skin contact, seeing LCs, pumping, breast compressions and having tons of support, I started supplementing when G was 2 weeks old.

Then doing all of google research trying to figure out what went wrong, according to most, it wasn’t my body that failed me, it was society, my support network, my lack of education on the matter and well, me. From my perspective every message from what I was reading was making me feel unbelievably inadequate. Making me feel if I did more x,y and z I would have been successful. It added to my core belief that I wasn’t good enough.I made myself crazy reading trying to figure out what I did wrong (later discovered the condition breast hypoplasia and that made a lot of sense to me and fit the look and my bfing experience to a t). I also felt even worse about my body and myself. People would post pictures of their bubs proudly stating that their chubby baby was exclusively breastfed, but I had no sense of that accomplishment. I would read posts, blogs and webpages describing how bad formula: some going even further pushing that line of reasoning that the women behind the bottle were severally misinformed and some even flatly saying these women were bad moms regardless of their reason for Formula feeding. I wanted to defend women like myself who struggled and went to the “vastly inferior artificial milk”. Eventually I needed to sort through my own feelings on the subject.


In retrospect, one thing I found jarring about the whole experience was just how out in the open it was. I had no issues about nursing in public, but suddenly every aspect of the feeding of my daughter became other people’s business, as a private person, that was hard to deal with. People would ask why I went to formula: some people would give me an eye roll or a very skeptical look when I described the experience. I found myself discussing my boobs to everyone and I soon wondered what the hell was I doing. I found the dispareging remarks people would make about their friends who didn’t BF for whatever reason very hard to hear. Reading their remarks seemed like a personal insult, which was a little ironic since I was reading those boards, blogs and articles to learn more to have a better experience the next time. I really felt that I needed to have a second experience to redeem myself from my not so ideal first parenting experience. To show I was a good mom. Even though what I had to do according to my reading would have been a herculian task (pumping, herbs, pharmaceuticals etc), it would prove I was good enough and doing what was best for my hypothetical second child. I even started to look into natural childbirth and homebirth thinking that would also show how committed I was (as that is often cited as a way to establish a good bf relationship). A lot of my thinking in regards to that was eerily similar to why I felt I needed to be a size 4-5, to show I was good enough, motivated, strong-willed with incredible willpower and that I was worth something.

I ended up with severe depression 2 years after G was born and even though I had had a work burn out the first thing I needed to discuss was my breastfeeding experience. It had shaped a lot of what I had felt about myself at the time. I lucked out with a therapist who had issues with that too so we talked and she took what I said seriously (a lot of people kindly dismissed my concerns with don’t worry about it you’re doing your best and it will seem insignificant when they’re older, which is actually true in my case, but hard while you’re going through it).

Like body image relates to our fundamental core beliefs about ourselves, breastfeeding for me reiterated past core beliefs of not being good enough, but worse it seeped into a new core belief that was being formed: the fundamental belief about my mothering skills. Failing at not only childbirth but also the beautiful relationship that was supposed to be solidified through of breastfeeing. It took time and therapy but eventually I gained a better perspective: motherhood is far far more then what and how your child’s food is delivered. Motherhood isn’t a checklist of a perfect scenario but a unique relationship between mother and child. I also think the whole issue of body image and breastfeeding is something that is ignored. If we become a parent we’re supposed to be a mom first and foremost and to dare talk about the insecurities that we may have are almost seen as selfish, as it should have been expelled with the placenta. Breastfeeding failure in my mind exacerbated the other failures and flaws on my body. I have been working hard on my self-esteem and body image and this is something that I had to deal with, especially with a part of the body that has many additional connotations of feminity, fertility and sexuality . Not to mention feeling that my body failed my daughter, that was especially hard, since I wanted to breastfeed so badly.

I am at a place now where yes, I would like to be thinner (I gained a lot of weight over my depression) and would like to do more of the things that made me happy (like distance running again, I was never fast, but always enjoyed the fresh air and was happy with my accomplishments there). I am in out patient treatment for my eating disorder and though I am not fully into recovery, I am learning to be kind to myself again. My husband and I make time for each other and we now have a great routine with our daughter. My daughter is growing, smart and thriving and can make me laugh everyday with some of the things she comes up with and the stories she tells, it is true about when they get older the less significant the infant feeding seems. I don’t know if I will have another child or not, but whatever feeding choices I make will be what works us. I would love to say I am always kind to myself and never berate myself for my physical appearance, but I would be lying, however I am working on it. I am not a perfect mom, but I am a good mom. I look back and now believe that I did what was best for her and for me. I look at things globally and if people don’t understand why I make a particular decision, that is okay. I am even starting to like my boobs again, wearing nice bras and being relieved I don’t struggle with chafing or back pain. 

At the end of the day, the lessons I want my daughter to learn are to be kind to herself and to get a strong positive sense of self, learning to sift through and challenge the many messages she will receive either overtly or subtly throughout her life and have the fortitude to choose the messages that enhance her confidence in herself: I am currently learning those lessons myself.

FFF Friday: “I didn’t want to do wrong by my baby”

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Mental health issues are a hotly contested reason for deciding not to breastfeed. While Dr. Thomas Hale has deemed certain medications compatible with breastfeeding, many women (and their care providers) don’t feel comfortable with the scarcity of long-term, quality studies on the effects of these medications in breastfed babies. But even if you ignore that controversial topic, the fact is that some mental health disorders are exacerbated or impacted heavily by breastfeeding. (In my case, this was definitely true, and it is the main reason that I am still “waffling”, as our FFF contributor says below, with my feeding decision with less than 6 weeks to go until this second kiddo arrives.)


This week’s FFF Friday is bravely submitted by FFF Casey, who tells us candidly about the very personal and specific reasons she opted to formula feed. I hope it will give other moms out there who may be struggling with depression, anxiety, or other mental health issues some comfort. You’re not alone, and whatever decision you make should be in your best interest – because the best thing you can give your baby is not breastmilk; it’s a healthy, functioning mom.

***

I became pregnant in January of 2009 and, like most moms, I did all my research regarding the healthiest options, during and after pregnancy, for my sweet little boy. Where I’m from, most moms will tell you that formula-feeding is ‘the norm’, and they might be right, but from my experience, the ratio of breastfeeding to bottlefeeding in my current city of residence is about half and half.
I had an interesting experience because I had a friend, who I’d graduated college with, who was exactly six months ahead of me in her pregnancy. She was all about breastfeeding. That was what she wanted to do, and she made it known that breastfeeding was what was best for her and her child’s health. The great thing about her though, was that she never pressured me into it. She asked me about it, but she never once tried to guilt me into it.
For the next several months, I thought it over. Going over the ups and downs, the pros and cons. From an outsider’s perspective, it would have been so easy for me to just go for it, because from an outsider’s perspective, there’s nothing wrong with me. What most people can’t see is beneath the facade I put up, I am a woman who suffers from severe General Anxiety Disorder, and High Blood Pressure as a result of a combination of anxiety and genetics. Medically, I’m not fit for breastfeeding. Still, I thought I might try it, and waffled on about it in my head for several months.
I kept getting stressed reading blogs about mothers who were so successful, and others who weren’t so successful. Between the combination of horror stories and beautiful success stories, I got to see the darker side. The side who chastises others for their unsuccessful attempts at breastfeeding, or because medically they aren’t able.
I eventually thought I would just seek out advice from my doctor, and went to her asking whether or not it would be beneficial, keeping in mind my medical issues, to breastfeed. She gave me a resounding ‘maybe’. She asked me why I wanted to breastfeed and I told her because I had read so much stuff about how formula was poison and breast was best. While talking to her, my hands were shaking, my heart was pounding, I was hyperventilating. I was having a panic attack right in her office.
I eventually told her that, first and foremost, I didn’t want to do wrong by my baby. Secondly, I didn’t want to be shunned from my friends and possible future mother friends because I formula fed my child. I had been formula fed, and I knew in my heart it wasn’t poison. Aside from GAD, I have no major health problems. I knew in my heart, breastfeeding would increase the frequency of my panic attacks and heart trouble, because I would always be worrying whether or not he would get enough. I knew that any amount of added stress and pain could potentially bring on an attack, and that would keep me from being a good mother to my son.
If you spoke to a lactivist, they would probably believe that I was the worst mother out there, because I folded my cards before I ever began. When my son was born, all the stress came to a head and I burst into tears. I told the doctors that I wanted to formula feed, and not one of them ever put me down for it. Even my doctor (who exclusively breastfed her children) told me she thought I made the right choice, considering how hard I had fought myself over it. However, I still felt the guilt of a failed mother. I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle all the stresses of being a new mother coupled with the worry I know I would feel over breastfeeding, but still I wondered if I was potentially slowly killing my child, and the guilt was a thousandfold, because I hadn’t even tried!
My son just turned a year in early October. He’s incredibly talented, on par with many 14 month olds. His weight is the 40th percentile. He’s short but hey, our whole family is short. He has been nothing but healthy and very very happy. I couldn’t tell you how happy of a child I am blessed to have.
The best part is, I’ve been panic attack free since January 2010. I contribute it all to the wonderful experience I’ve had being a mother. :)
***
I’m running low on FFF Friday submissions again, and frankly, I am too massively pregnant to go running around finding more. I can barely make it up the stairs, for criminy sakes. So do me a solid and send in your story to formulafeeders@gmail.com. My stretch marks and I thank you. 
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