The Fourth Carnival of Breastfeeding: Baby Love

Welcome to our fourth Carnival of Breastfeeding!  This week, for Valentine's Day, we're bringing you several posts on the theme "Baby Love."

In addition to my post, which is below, check out the posts from our regular contributors:  Angela at Breastfeeding 1-2-3, who contributes 10 strategies for "Helping Your Child Welcome a New Baby into the Family;" Sinead at Breastfeeding Mums, who writes "Love is All Around Me;" Andi at Mama Knows Breast, who reviews the book, "Babyproofing Your Marriage;" and Jen at The Lactivist who writes about "The Things We Do for Love."

This month our guest bloggers are Karen at Cairo Mama, who writes about "Great Expectations and First Impressions:  The Beginning of Love," Melissa at Booby Juice, who contributes "In Love with My Babies," and Colleen at My Baby and More, who writes about "Baby Lust...er...Love."  Enjoy!

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Baby Love:  How my body loved my baby when my mind could not.

Quick note:  While the theme of this Carnival is a cheery one, this post tells a more complicated story about difficulties I had after my son's birth. 

When I think back on my first weeks with my son (pictured above), I have two images.  One is of me thoroughly enthralled with my little boy, holding him close, nursing him and marveling at his every feature.

Another is of me tormented by the experience of his birth.  I recall feeling like a shadow of myself, unable to think about anything but the birth. 

I had a hard but not terribly unusual labor.  It was long, 34 hours, and I had no pain medication for the first 32.  The labor ended in a cesarean section after my son's heart rate faltered.  The only explanation I have for the outcome is that he was posterior in position.

What was unusual, I think, was that I was so happy and felt so great for the first 26 hours of the labor.  It hurt a lot, of course, but I felt really relaxed and able to ride the waves of the contractions.  My birth doula really helped keep me in that state.  I remember the midwives asking, "have you done meditation before?"  I had, and I felt like I could really use my mind and body to move through the labor with relative ease. 

But then at some point my body and mind broke apart.

After the birth there were two experiences.  My body responded immediately and strongly to my son with milk and a strong urge to be close.  My mind relived the labor and birth constantly.  When I pictured the birth later, I felt as if I were floating just below the ceiling of the operating room, looking down at myself and my son being born.

I thought about the birth night and day for several weeks.  I wrote about it, talked with my husband and my therapist about it.  My midwife even took me out to lunch to discuss it.  Nothing made the thoughts go away.  It was as if my brain was a record player and the needle was stuck in one groove on the record. 

All the while, my body was loving my baby.  Fortunately, breastfeeding came naturally to us, and in spite of an infection which kept us in the hospital for the first week, we were quickly locked in a nursing embrace that wouldn't quit.  Something deeper in me took over and made sure that my baby was loved, nourished, and protected.

But those feelings and thoughts about the birth wouldn't go away.  Finally, my therapist suggested that I see another therapist in her practice who specialized in a therapy called EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing.  It's a therapy first used with Vietnam veterans who experienced Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. 

In brief, the therapy consisted of me recounting the labor and birth, with breaks during which I'd listen to an alternating tapping noise in each ear through earphones.   It was hard to relive the experience again, but the therapy was remarkably effective.  I returned for a second session and, even with effort, I couldn't summon the feelings of pain which had been my constant companion only a week before.  I felt sad about what had happened, but I was no longer living it.

In a way, breastfeeding saved me.  While my thoughts were mired in the past, my body said calmly, "feed your baby, hold your baby, love your baby."  When I had feelings of failure about the birth, my body said, "ah, but look - you can do this."

The early weeks of motherhood are a distant memory now, but these experiences have had a lasting impact on me.  I ditched a successful career to become a lactation consultant.  I have a particular empathy for nursing moms which I hope I'll never lose.  And I believe in the power of our bodies to to love our babies, even when our minds cannot.

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Comments

[Melissa Glozman]

What a wonderful post, thank you for sharing! Towards the end, you mention that you felt pain after the delivery, but you never really mention the other feelings you were having that caused you such torment after the delivery. Was it physical pain from the c-section or did you mean pain metaphorically, realling referring to disappointment?

Often, when plans don't go as expected, it can be devastating, particularly when it is something as monumental as the birth of child. I cried for 2 weeks leading up to my 30th birthday because I had an image of what I wanted my life to be like when I was 30, eg. married, kids, house, etc. and though my life was good, it was nothing like what I had imagined. I finally realized that different doesn't necessarily mean bad.

Lucas, my first, was posterior so I know what it's like when the delivery doesn't go as planned. I think every woman goes into labor with a birthing plan, and if your plan doesn't go as expected, that in no way changes the outcome -- you gave birth to a beautiful, healthy boy.

Again, thank you for sharing and being so honest.

[Tanya Lieberman]

Hi Melissa,

Thanks for your comment! It's definitely not easy to write about this, but the experience is so closely tied to my feelings for my son that I couldn't really write about one without the other.

When I wrote about pain I was referring mostly to the reaction I had to the experience. I'm not a therapist so I can't describe it well, but the entire experience (the pain, the outcome, the rapid shift from a very positive experience to a really hard one) ended up causing some PTSD symptoms. I'm sure that the same circumstances might cause really different reactions in people, but for me it meant some trauma that I couldn't shake without some skilled help.

Thanks again for your comment, and for your own contribution to the carnival, which I loved.

Tanya

[Cairo Mama]

I was in the States with my parents for most of my pregnancy because of my placental hematoma early on and wanting to prepare for delivery. My husband was in Egypt. I did not have a job. I hired a doula. My mother called me "professionally pregnant". I did yoga, took childbirth classes, read books and prepared for natural childbirth. Even though there is an attempt to be compassionate when discussing cesearean, if you are in a class that promotes natural childbirth and teaches you ways to avoid intervention, the message is communicated that cesearean is failure. It isn't the intention, but if you are a type-A personality, you say to yourself,"I just have to hold out any intervention because one intervention leads to another an increases your chance of c-section. Or, I just have to relax enough. If I don't, I will fail".

In a way, I was lucky because my baby was breech and I knew that I would most likely have a c-section. He had been in the same position since at least the 6th month and hadn't moved. I tried everything to get him to move. I felt like there was something wrong with my body, that I was failing my doula, my childbirth teacher, etc. My doula was very supportive and said,"We need to make this the best birth it can be, even though it will not be what you expected." That was somewhat comforting, but what really helped was hearing my childbirth teacher's birth story where she was prepared for a long labor and a beautiful natural birth and her labor was so short that she fought it. She didn't want it to go that fast. As a result, she had her baby, but had a bad tear and though she loved her baby, she wasn't happy with the birth. I decided to get happy with a cesearean right then and there. I decided not to fight my baby.

I held out as long as possible, but I finally scheduled a cesarean. The day before, I went to yoga, met with friends and went out to a swanky dinner with my husband. The doctor did a sonogram before the surgery just to make sure he hadn't moved, but his head as sticking out under my rib as it had always been, so I knew he hadn't. We were the first surgery of the day and it went pretty smoothly. It was wonderful. As I described in my post, I couldn't quite grasp what had happened for a few days becauses it was so easy and required little effort from me, though I did use my yoga breathing for the cathetar insert! My doula was with us as well and she was great in calming me, my husband and my parents. She stayed with me while my husband went to the nursery with the baby to get cleaned up. Because she was there, I have a picture of myself seeing my baby for the first time in the OR.

I do admit that I still get a pang of jealousy when I hear of someone who has a natural birth, especially when they weren't as well prepared, or even committed to a natural birth as I was. I think part of it is that his birth was great, but I didn't have to DO anything. If I had, it would have been even better, but I am grateful to the advanced warning so I could grieve my expectations before and really enjoy my son's birth. Breastfeeding was not easy for us, so I would have been in big trouble had I gone through labor and then had a c-section.

[Beth]

"And I believe in the power of our bodies to to love our babies, even when our minds cannot."

Thank you, Tanya. What a powerful statement. It really resonates with me.

My story with baby love begins with my first pregnancy. I was ecastatic. I felt great. Those pregnancy hormones had me floating on a cloud for the entire 9 months! My daughter's birth was also a great experience, as were the first 18 months of mothering and breastfeeding. The a subtle shift began.

I became pregnant with a baby that I never had a chance to meet face to face. I had a miscarriage at 11 weeks. I was devastated. Thankfully, though, I had the support of my husband, family and therapist and was able to grieve and work though my feelings (or so I thought).

I quickly became pregnant again. I was so happy to be having another baby, but struggling to find a way to keep the memory of the baby we lost, especially since the timing was so close. I kept thinking that I would feel more connected to my (new) baby and that the pregnancy would seem more real when our miscarried baby's "due date" passed. Well, I was 25 weeks pregnant with my son when that date came & went. I never felt the huge relief I had come to expect. Instead, I still felt heavy & not as connected with this baby as I did with my first. I was happy to be nearing the end of my pregnancy & anxious to meet this new little person, but still not in the way that I thought I would be.

My son's birth was FAST, much like his conception, leaving me little time to process what was happening. Physically, I felt great 15 minutes after he was born. It was emotionally that I struggled (unknowingly). I felt like a mother lion. Ferociously protective of my new baby, but also burdoned by what I perceived as an inability for him to be comforted by anyone but me. I nursed him and cared for him, but wasn't experiencing that overwhelming "baby love" that I did when my daughter was born. (Interestingly, the mother lion instincts and anxiety about having other people care for my daughter were there, but not nearly as pronounced and therefore chalked up to my being a "new mother") When my son was 7 weeks old, I was reading an article about Postpartum Depression & Anxiety and was stunned to find myself reflected in what I was reading.

My daughter will be 4 years old in just a few weeks. My son is almost 19 months old. It's been a long journey getting to where we are now. I'm definitely in a better place than I was 1 1/2 years ago, but still struggling to get back to being the mother I was during those first precious 18 months of my daughter's life.

Even now, I frequently have days when I feel like I'm going though the motions of caring for my children. My body is there, but my mind is racing with all kinds of thoughts and worries.

I may not always feel that warm & fuzzy baby love, but I know it's there.

[Tanya Lieberman]

Thank you so much for sharing this, Beth.

From my limited knowledge of PPD and anxiety, it seems that these feelings are so common, and yet there is tremendous stigma around them. I think that there is a lot of pressure to sugar coat the experience of new motherhood, but I've yet to meet a mother who didn't have at least a mixture of feelings about birth, motherhood, etc. And most women I meet at least suspect that they had some postpartum depression/anxiety/PTSD.

So, thanks for your candor and willingness to share your experience - for the benefit of others.

Tanya

[Beth]

I agree. I think many moms experience a range of emotions, some on the PPD/Anxiety/PTSD spectrum, some not. The intensity of emotions that mothering can bring about sometimes take us by surprise.
I'm happy to share my experiences. I really felt the emotion in your post and responded with what came naturally. And the fact that someone else might read it and benefit from it makes me feel good too. It's amazing how safe posting online can feel, even though it's such a public forum.

----- Original Message -----

[Heather]

Wow!

I believe so many of us are disappointed by our childrens' birth stories. Are our expectations too high? Are we not properly prepared?

I believe in my case it is my own perfectionism that is to blame. My BP rose during my 3rd trimester with my daughter and I was put on bedrest. I was scheduled to be induced on a monday. Friday evening my water broke (I still blame my husband's driving). The dr. waiting 24 hrs to induce and by then I was exhausted. I needed pain meds after just 6 hrs and an epi shortly there after. Even after reaching 10 cm I had to wait hours until they would let me push. She was big. Even with 2 hrs of pushing I had a vacuum delivery and lots of tearing. A full hour of stitches and an infection.

I had a healthy baby, but a sense that the dr waiting too long to induce and that I could have done better. Although I am greatful b/c I know most drs would have given up and operated. I almost wanted to get pregnant again just to show that I could do it 'right'.

With baby #2 I was diagnosed early with chronic high bloodpressure and was considered high risk. Lots of testing and an induction date at 38 weeks. Of course, not to be out done, I developed headaches and blurred vision 3 days earlier. I was induced and had a fairly easy delivery until the end. The cord was wrapped around his neck (which I knew from ultrasound, but scared the @#$% out of my husband). Shortly after delivery, my baby boy was fine.

Neither went according to plan but I am greatful that they are healthy. I have only realized now, after a year just how depressed I became after his delivery. I truly thought I was fine, but many complications at home and a terrible work environment led to me being depressed and withdrawn. Others realized but i couldn't see it. I hope those days are gone now. I have quit the job and begun to find my old self.

Luckily I have always felt the warm & fuzzy baby love from both my children.

[EllenRebekah]

Wow! What incredible stories. With so many challenges to our expections, what an incredible testament to women.

Friends of mine have recently given birth. I haven't heard any of their stories but it certainly reminds me of my own.

Before I went to my birth class (in Norway they don't do classes like Americans) I wanted it all to be totally natural and anything else was bad. Then I learned at the class, led by an English midwife, about ways to deal with pain (they do encourage natural as much as possible) and how they deal with situations needing medical attention. I decided that all that mattered was the health of myself and my baby. It was also a huge relief that babies in their hospitals get 100% breastmilk, from their mothers or a bank. Women are encouraged to breastfeed for a year, then most have to go back to work, it's an expensive country!

Sara Ellen was born Dec 6, 2005, 10 days before the due date. It was ironically the original date, before our first and only ultra sound.

My water didn't break, it leaked, very slowly starting on a Wednesday or Friday. I wasn't even sure and because I had a midwife appointment Monday I didn't worry. She wanted me to go to the hospital and the doctor told me it had broken and there was little left. They would schedule induction for the next day. That night, aside from the great nerve pain in my hip from baby's head, I felt little pains in my abdomen. At the hospital, they found I was 3cm dilated! Labor had started on it's own and with oxytocin to encourage contractions, my baby girl was born in about five hours. It was fast, but not overwhelming because the contractions grew in intensity gradually. At 8cm I wanted to push but the midwife encourage speedy breathing to withhold pushing. I had an episiotomy, I believe because I was on my back, but I didn't have the energy to move. I'd already needed help to get from my side to my back when they wanted me to progress more quickly. The episiotomy tore and I'm still dealing with the effects of that, after 14 1/2 months.

Since then, life with a baby has been an incredible challenge. Wonderful and challenging. I still love that nursing time quiets her during the day, and helps to sleep at night. I love to stare at her beautiful face. She was gorgeous the moment she was born, confirming my maternal knowledge of her sex.

[Nancy]

This blog is proof that you can talk about tough things in a positive way--Thank you Tanya for bringing up the "dark side" of motherhood and recognizing that your body could respond to your baby even if your mind could not.

The most dramatic experience I have had as a postpartum doula was witnessing a mother reach to nurse her 10-week-old baby in the middle of a panic attack--she thought she was dying and she yet she nursed her baby!

In response to Beth's opening comment about high expectations, I have to say it makes me crazy that our society/culture sets up our wonderful and essential generation of childbearing women to struggle through postpartum. And I think the struggle can be attributed to 1) the lack of formal recognition of the powerful emotional, spiritual and physical transition from woman to mother and 2) the strong focus on individualism in our society that makes new moms (and dads) think they have to do it all. I have heard so many new moms say "But I hate to ask for help".

Well, it is a wise woman that asks for help, and I think Sally Placksin's book, Mothering the New Mother, is one of the best reads on this subject. I highly recommend it. Her stated goal in writing this book is to ensure that our daughters and sons can negotiate this time with greater ease and understanding.

We are fortunate in this area to have this MotherWear-supported blog and MotherWoman's postpartum support group. Women should be able to not only trust their bodies, but also their minds, their communities and their culture to support them through this time.

Thanks everyone for sharing your heartfelt stories.

[Tanya Lieberman]

Thanks, Nancy, for these comments.

I agree. The stigma around needing help, and especially around postpartum depression/anxiety/trauma, is so strong that it makes many of us suffer unecessarily.

Thank goodness for the support we do have (like doulas, family, friends, support groups), and for high profile people like Brooke Shields, who can shed some much needed light on these topics.

Tanya

[JenniferR]

I want to thank you all for your openness in telling your stories. A lot of what you said resonates with me. Birthing and nursing and nurturing my children has brought powerful feelings. Good and bad. When my son was born I had enjoyed a wonderful pregnancy, and delivery went as planned, uncomplicated. I was just estatic about being a mom and felt great the whole time in the hospital. I had planned on nursing my son, and everything seemed on track, until he was about 3 days old. He refused to nurse, had difficulty latching on when I became engorged, and it would take him 15 minutes of crying to latch on poorly. I made calls to help lines, but due to bad winter weather I was unable to get out to a lactation specialist or have one get to me. When he was 4 days old it was over, the struggle was too hard, he just wouldn't nurse. I gave him bottles but I mourned the loss of the nursing as though someone close to me had died. I loved my son so much but there was this loss that tainted things a bit. I got pregnant with our daughter when my son was about 18 months old, and I was consumed with thoughts that this baby would nurse well and fix everything. She did nurse well, and it did help. I realized that I didn't have to know what I was doing, the baby did know and she a great job. It helped to know that some kids just have a harder time. But my daughter was at the other extreme. She nursed constantly. Right after birth she nursed for over 6 hours straight and the nurses and lactation specialists all said to let her do it as long as she needed. She was actually a very cranky baby, and slept poorly, only about 10 hours a day for the first 15 weeks, and she did much of her sleeping latched on nursing. Her closeness was overwhelming to me. I am sure I was depressed and could have gotten help for myself but it was too hard to just do regular daily activities and that seemed one more thing I just didn't have time to do. I know better now. What I did do was get some help to get my daughter to sleep better and sleep on her own. That was thru mybabyandmore and the happiest baby on the block. And it was the beginning of healing. I resented my daughter as much as I loved her, because she had changed the dynamics of the whole family. I felt I lost the closeness I had with my son, and had to spend so much time with her that he wasn't getting enough attention. As she got older and her disposition sweetened dramatically that all improved too. I now kind of mourn a different loss. My daughter was so difficult that I put thoughts of a third child out of my mind. I am still convinced it may be more than I can handle to have a third, and yet I get cravings. So it feels a little like I lost my chance at more children. This parenting is so difficult and we all play a balancing act to make sure all members of the family have what they need. I believe that for us, we just don't have enough family and community resources to spread out the work of having a third child.
It really is a comfort to hear other mom's stories, to know that this is not supposed to be easy. It is hard work. It is gratifying to know I made it through the hardest part and we are a whole, healthy and happy family again.
thank you for your stories.
Jennifer

[Tanya Lieberman]

Thank you, Jennifer, for sharing your story.

I know that many of us grieve when breastfeeding doesn't work out. I meet so many women who struggle with this. Funny thing is that I think it makes some of us become lactation consultants!

I think that it's also very common to only recognize much later that we're suffering from post partum depression. When we're in it we can't really see it.

Thanks so much again for sharing your story!

Tanya