We don’t hear about weaning depression and anxiety too often, but they affect more women than you know. I’m sharing my own postpartum and post-weaning struggles.
I’ve mentioned it before, but breastfeeding was initially a struggle. I was close to giving up until I realized that it didn’t matter how my baby was fed as long as we both were mentally and physically well.
We then got into a groove, and breastfeeding became one of the most special times of my life. Do I miss the pump? Heck no. Am I glad to “have my body back?” Absolutely, although a little (big) part of me misses those quiet nights, just the two of us.
Ironically (or not?), I then became scared of weaning. I wasn’t sure how we would do it (would Bazooka cooperate or protest? would it be painful?), and I was also terrified of the potential to experience weaning depression.
During pregnancy, a woman’s level of prolactin, the hormone responsible for milk production, is significantly higher than usual and remains elevated as long as she is breastfeeding.
Additionally, oxytocin, the same hormone that stimulates uterine contractions during labor and after delivery, is released every time your milk lets down.
It’s no wonder that many nursing women crave that bonding time and struggle with giving it up; our bodies are literally programmed for that purpose!
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Even though we introduced formula (to supplement during the work day) early on, my milk was my son’s main source of nutrition until his intake of solids/purees increased.
Due to ongoing poor weight gain, at 10 months we began seeing the pediatric gastroenterologist—whose actual first words to me were “you’re going to stop nursing and exclusively pump to gauge your son’s intake.”
At this time Bazooka was dealing with a stubborn ear infection, and I (he) was not ready to stop nursing cold turkey. Thus, I continued to nurse once in the morning and evening and, as a compromise, pumping at all other times.
Although it wasn’t the doctor’s intention, her words sent me into a dark cloud of doubt, self-loathing, and paranoia all over again.
I worried that I’d been starving my son for the past 10 months, even though my pumping output regularly said otherwise. I questioned whether my motives to continue nursing were selfish. I incessantly googled genetic disorders and allergies, which further increased my growing inability to focus.
And I felt that suffocating guilt—of how I wasn’t over-the-moon excited when I first learned of my pregnancy—and that it was all wrong. That I wasn’t a good mother.
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I became even more irritable—and angry—and felt like I was simultaneously in a fog and on edge of a meltdown every day. The ball of nervous energy in my stomach was always present.
I’ve never told anybody this, but I even had occasional thoughts of “escaping” or “punishing” myself. I never did, mind you, but there were nights when I felt that swallowing a couple of those postpartum pain pills just to sleep better was completely reasonable.
These feelings continued past Bazooka’s first birthday when I dropped all of my work-day pumping sessions a bit too suddenly. Apparently my body was producing more milk than I thought it was, and the surge of hormones took its toll. I really thought I was losing my mind.
Lucky for me, I was aware of what I was experiencing. (It helped that I’d read this post months before.) Although I could not control my anger, irritability, and irrational thoughts in the moment, I knew I was experiencing something common.
Our last nursing session was a few days after Christmas—a couple weeks shy of 15 months. By that time, my son was nursing more for comfort than nutrition and he just lost interest. It was a perfect ending. There was no engorgement, and I began to see a slight improvement in my moods, although I still didn’t feel “normal.”
For the longest time, I just didn’t see it.
- I wasn’t hopeless or full of despair
- I never experienced uncontrollable crying
- I laughed a lot and truly knew how blessed my life was
- I felt absolute joy whenever I was with my son; if I was in a bad mood, just the thought of his smile could transform my feelings—it’s no coincidence that his name means “bringer of light”
I didn’t realize that it takes on many forms, such as
- irritability
- trouble concentrating or remembering things
- guilt
- loss of interest in normally enjoyable things
- feeling distant
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Now that we’ve been completely weaned for a few months, I feel much better. I still have my days of excessive worry (that’s called being a mom), but I do feel like I’m able to control what were probably minor anxiety attacks with deep breathing and other mindfulness techniques.
Did I experience weaning depression/anxiety? I don’t know for sure since I never sought help and was never diagnosed, but based on what I’ve read and where I am now, I think I did. I never should’ve tried to be a hero or expected that exercise and an evening glass of wine could make it go away. I should have been more open with my husband and doctor (who, at my annual check-up, commented that I seemed preoccupied and spent several minutes talking with me after I’d left the exam room) and sought professional help at the height of it just to be safe.
Now, I still have reasons to worry about my son (always, right?), but I will forever cherish all aspects—good and bad—of breastfeeding.
If any of you mothers ever feel the same way, please realize that what you’re experiencing is a normal side effect to weaning. And don’t be afraid to reach out to somebody. The old cliché rings true: you don’t have to suffer in silence.
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