depression and weaning

I wrote yesterday about some of my darker days before Christmas. Not very eloquently, I might add; it was rather a case of write it down as I thought of it and press publish quickly before I had second thoughts. In the comments, Wendy who writes at Red Boots wondered if I’d seen a piece that Jo of A Cup of Jo had written back in February of last year, entitled the hardest two months of my life.

Thank you, Wendy. I had seen that piece when Jo published it, but I had forgotten it. Her description of how she felt is exactly what I experienced, although mine started I guess around the time that I started reducing breastfeeding and introducing formula, rather than when I stopped it altogether. My first period had also arrived within three months of giving birth, so my hormones were not quite as extreme as Jo’s in terms of length of time without periods. And yet, everything else she says rang true.

Another wise friend had suggested that my feelings were due to the hormones of reducing breastfeeding and I tended to agree with her. In retrospect, this especially tallied with my experience of starting to feel better once I had stopped feeding altogether. This month I got a much more normal period. During the time when I was feeling so down, I went 6 weeks without a period, to the extent that I actually took a pregnancy test. It was obviously negative but it it hadn’t have been, I wanted to know, if just so that I could avoid ibuprofen and caffeine.

In her post, Jo says (and I quote) “Out of nowhere, my mind started obsessing and worrying about inconsequential things; I had trouble sleeping (I’d wake up in the night and feel gripped with anxiety and fear); I began feeling very down, like that heavy feeling you get in your chest when you’re sad about something. Why? I had no idea. But I knew it wasn’t good.

Over the next couple weeks, I felt worse and worse. I felt guilty because I had a wonderful baby, a loving husband, and a great life on paper, yet I was inexplicably falling apart. Although I had loved taking care of Toby since he was born eight months before, it suddenly seemed exhausting to look after a child. I dreaded hearing his cries in the morning and having to get out of bed and face the day. I felt utterly overwhelmed and exhausted.”

That is exactly how I felt. She goes on to say that one day she just woke up and felt better. I don’t think I’m quite there yet, but almost. But in my past experiences with depression, that is what does, and will, happen.

It’s been almost a month since I last breastfed. It would have been the 14th December that I last gave Pip a feed, on the morning I left for Morocco. As I said yesterday, I didn’t specifically intend to cease breastfeeding that weekend, but the more I didn’t pump, the more I didn’t need to (plus I was enjoying having my body all to myself again). When I heard that Pip had cut a tooth, that cemented my decision further. She’d already been having occasional formula feeds ever since she started eating food at around 5 months and obviously only formula whilst I was in Morocco, so I don’t think she even noticed the changeover. By the time I got back, there was no milk any more, so she didn’t even look for it.

I still wonder whether I made the right decision about breastfeeding. I keep reading smug posts all over the place about still breastfeeding exclusively at over a year, but when I do wonder, I know deep down that this was the right decision for me. Just like I keep wondering about my birth decisions. But that’s a story for another time…