Pour from a Full Cup
As it relates to breastfeeding versus formula feeding, you’ve probably heard that breastfeeding is the preferred way to feed your baby. You may have also heard the phrase, “fed is best,” meaning that regardless of how you feed your baby, he or she will be fine so long as there is food in that tummy. I’m not here to argue one way or another; I’m here to share my personal experience in hopes that it will help and encourage another mom.
From even before day one of pregnancy, I always wanted to breastfeed my future child. Like so many moms and moms-to-be, I had thought greatly about how I wanted my pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum experience to go. With respect to postpartum, I just knew my child would be exclusively breastfed for six months. The reality is that my child was exclusively breastfed for one week.
I gave birth to my child on a Thursday. The following Thursday, as I lay in bed breastfeeding her, I started shivering out of nowhere. The thermostat had not changed. I had already been diagnosed with gestational hypertension, but a day or two after I delivered my baby, I was told that I could stop taking my blood pressure medication since I had not had any blood pressure problems prior to becoming pregnant. So, for whatever reason, that Thursday night I took my temperature and my blood pressure. My temperature was normal, but my blood pressure was high. And it continued to get higher and higher with every blood pressure check.
Fortunately, In the moment, I had the foresight to go to the store to buy some baby formula. It must have been around 9pm. Yet, I still did not want to take myself to the hospital. I was just sick and tired of the place. At this point, I had already been hospitalized twice for gestational hypertension, and I had had a traumatic birth. AND, I work at this same hospital. So sick and tired.
The first time that I was hospitalized, my health care team monitored my blood pressure for 24 hours and collected urine samples over the same time period. My blood pressure kept fluctuating – normal one minute and too high the next – and I was negative for preeclampsia. The second time that I was hospitalized, which was the night after I was discharged the first time, my blood pressure got as high as 180/90 mmHg at home. In the ER that night, I think it had risen to closer to 190/90. However, after being admitted to the labor and delivery floor, it was absolutely normal. And it remained so until the next morning when I was discharged with the exact same instructions as the first time. Waste of time, waste of money. That was where my head was at that Thursday that I got my daughter the formula.
My husband practically forced me to go anyway, so I got my dad to pick me up and take me to the nearest ER. I cried so much that night even before I got to the hospital because deep down, I guess I just knew that someting was not right. I feared that I had developed postpartum preeclampsia – rare, but it happens. In addition to that, I did not want my daughter to be formula fed. Period. That wasn’t in my plan.
This time when my dad took me to the ER, my blood pressure did not go down to normal. It remained high. So high that they started an obstetric magnesium IV drip (OB mag), and they were preparing to transfer me again to labor and delivery. I was monitored for another 24 hours while on the OB mag, and I was administered two different blood pressure medications multiple times a day. Another 24-hour urine sample was collected, but this time, I was catheterized. My obstetrician told me, “You are the sickest patient I have on this floor.” He also said that in the ER my systolic blood pressure had reached 200, which is stroke level. I feared for my life. He told me that, had I not come to the hospital, he was confident that I would have stroked out that night.
It goes without saying that I was not able to exclusively breastfeed my child let alone feed her every 2-3 hours like the lactation consultants expect you to. I pumped a little bit while I was hospitalized, but that was a struggle. I definitely was not pumping or producing enough to keep my baby fed and satisfied. I felt like I had failed her and like I had failed as a mom, and my daughter was only about a week old at the time.
I can say that I am so grateful that she did not need me in that way during that time because mentally and emotionally, even physically, I was drained. My baby was (and is) perfectly content drinking formula from bottles. And honestly, it has made a huge difference as far as my own mental health is concerned. That may sound selfish, but if I can’t maintain my own mental wellness, then I am useless as a mother, a wife, etc. As they say, you can’t pour from an empty cup.
Just as had happened while I was pregnant and hospitalized for gestational hypertension, I was hospitalized again for postpartum preeclampsia the following night. It was my first wedding anniversary, and it was awful to be frank.
Five days after being discharged that time, I found myself back in the hospital. This time, however, it was under very different circumstances. For the second time in my life, I was hospitalized for bipolar I disorder. The first time was about six years prior. So, of course, I was neither breastfeeding nor pumping at this point. I ended up having to resume taking a psychotropic medication that I had stopped taking during pregnancy. This medicine does not allow me to breastfeed because it passes through the breastmilk and could adversely affect my baby. Being back on this medication was the last thing I wanted primarily for this reason. I wanted desperately to breastfeed my child to make sure that she was getting all of the necessary nutrients that she needed for her health and development.
Although about 90% of my postpartum experience failed to go as planned, I do appreciate that I do not have to be the only one responsible for providing food for my baby. I do not have to be the one to wake up every few hours to make sure that she’s fed. I do not have to wonder about whether I am producing enough. I do not have to worry about how I’m going to pump when I go back to work, etc. As someone who experiences anxiety on top of bipolar mood swings, formula feeding really isn’t such a bad thing for my mental health. And I truly don’t think that it’s such a bad thing for my child either.
In a previous post, I described what it looks like to parent yourself, just as you would your child, when it comes to making health care decisions. I am essentially telling you to advocate for yourself, Mama. I am not here to say that breastfeeding or formula feeding or bottle feeding is right or wrong. I do believe that whatever decision you make for your child, that you also consider yourself and that you gather all the information you need to make the best choice for your baby and for you. Pour from a full cup.
Signed,
Lai (Bipolar I)
