Due to my foresight and Gracie’s father’s money I was covered for the mums and bubs unit in a private hospital. He and Mum drove me a couple of hours to get there with Gracie. However the psychiatrist assessed me as an involuntary patient and this hospital only accepted voluntary patients. So, instead, I was driven across the city to a public hospital that had a space. I spent three weeks there.
The staff was very kind. I was allowed to use a room all day in order for me to spend time bonding with my new baby. I was expressly told not to breastfeed for two reasons: because of my medication leaking into the breast milk; also, so as not to confuse my baby by swapping between breastfeeding and bottle. Initially I had a staff member with me as well as either Mum or Gracie’s father. Later it was decided the staff member was no longer required. Another patient with whom I had become friends resented that one of the scarce family rooms was occupied for so much of the day and she was relieved when I said I didn’t need the room all day.
Being in a tiny room with my ex was artificial, yet I missed Gracie when she didn’t come. I’d miss her every whole, long, weekend when she stayed at Mum’s and was looked after by family and friends. I remember calling my sister and hearing Gracie crying in the background and feeling physically sick that I couldn’t hold her.
I occupied myself on weekends harassing a recently rediscovered school friend who I believed shared terribly painful histories with me. Seriously, friends and family, if I lose it again, take my mobile off me before I can use it, before I can jot down numbers!! That person has not contacted me since this time – surprise, surprise – (My last final short message assured him I was well again, was being discharged from hospital, and would not call again).
Toward the end of my stay I was allowed to walk the grounds with an approved companion (Mum or Gracie’s father) and it was pleasant to walk in the spring sunshine, breaking the boredom of life confined to the locked ward.
While restoring breast feeding seemed as though it was nobody’s priority I was supplied with a breast pump machine. This provided the possibility that by maintaining milk supply I could at a later stage resume breastfeeding. It was a large metal box about the size of two shoe boxes. It was a dark metallic grey and had a tube and suction cap. Various nurses tried to put the cup on a nipple. With latex gloves they would lift one nipple or the other into the cup. While the sound of the machine’s energy reverberated around the small room the cap refused to stay on, and the nurse would invariably leave saying “You have a try. I’ll be back later.”
I was as successful as the nurses. For me its purpose was to point out what a useless mother I was day after day. Eventually I had to say it wasn’t working. The nurse said “No, it’s not, is it? We’ll stop it then.” I think the nurses and I heaved a collective sigh of relief. It had been a farce.
My heartfelt wish to breastfeed was dashed. I was still leaking in the shower. A sick joke that I barely breastfed my newborn and yet leaking contaminated fluid for years. Before leaving this hospital the psychiatrist formally finalised the decision that never had been mine. “The leaking you are experiencing is probably the result of your medication and you can’t breastfeed while you are taking it. But you decided before, yourself, not to breastfeed.’
Yes. Before. In emergency. When I said I didn’t love my baby.
Another new mother, living in the United States, was able to continue breastfeeding during her treatment. This is an interesting comparison to my experience. Read Blair Shackle’s account “Breastfeeding and postpartum psychosis, a highly unlikely love story” on The Boob Geek go to http://www.boobgeek.com/blog/breastfeeding-postpartum-psychosis.html
My ex wife was unable to breast feed. It wasn’t because of medication, our daughter just never caught on with the concept of nursing off her mother. We worked with a lactologist, but eventually had to give up and stick with the bottle only. My wife was devastated. I can’t fully know what you’re going through, but I know it’s painful and frustrating.
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Thanks Bradley. It’s good to hear other people’s experiences. I think there’s such an emphasis on ‘breast is best’ that if you can’t breastfeed for some reason you feel like a failure. I discuss this more in a forthcoming piece.
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I am visiting from International Bipolar Foundation…you replied to my post about what I wished I knew before diagnosis. I was unmedicated and undiagnosed when I had my 3 kids. I breast fed them all for short periods of time. Something always went wrong. The first child lasted a month and refused the breast, the 2nd we went quite a while since she was allergic to formula and was happy breastfeeding. Number 3 last 2 months, for one thing he ate every half hour even on a bottle and I had surgery so we had to stop anyhow. Sorry you missed that bonding with your child.
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Thanks for your comment. Friends without mental health issues have told me various reasons why they didnct breastfeed for long too. I discuss the slogan ‘breast is best’ in a forthcoming post.
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I was working while I breast fed the one child and I couldn’t pump. I wore pads and soaked them by the time I got home and my baby was hungry. She didn’t take bottles. Luckily I only worked part time. By the time I got to the sitter to pick her up, I had to feed her first and my uniform was a mess from waiting.
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That shows a lot of persistence! Good on you!
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Definitely not easy. I breast fed her til about 6 months old. She was the longest.
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That’s gr8! Well done!
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This breaks my heart on several levels. You did what was best for your child in the long run – you did what you had to so that you could recenter and become a wonderful mother. Small consolation, I know, and I am so sorry you are grieving the loss of this experience.
My Mom had inverted nipples so was unable to breast feed any of her 5 children. Her nurses weren’t nearly as understanding as yours – and one was actually cruel.
There are other ways to bond – some of which, sadly, were denied you as well as yet another consequence of mental illness that the neurotypically fortunate never have to consider and never take into account. You seem as determined and loving as my mother, so I have no doubt that you will find ways to deeply connect with this child none-the-less.
BTW – I just read a study indicating that the colostrum in cows milk was actually able to provide more immunity support than human breast milk. So much for the “always best” argument, huh?
This, too, will pass, my new friend – there will come a time when the ache will no longer be so omnipresent. Brave post.
xx,
mgh
(Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMore dot com)
– ADD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder –
“It takes a village to educate a world!”
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Thank you so much for understanding and caring xxx
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Would that everyone did! I can’t claim to truly understand, however, only to care.
xx,
mgh
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Your mum went through so much herself… Appreciate your comments xx
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And still, all of her children adored her. She was a trouper.
xx,
mgh
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As you say breastfeeding isn’t the only way to bond & care for your baby. Your relationship with your mum is proof of that.
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And children who love their adoptive parents as well. You’ll get through this.
xx,
mgh
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Thank you for your wishes. My daughter is considerably older…. I have no concerns about attachment. In the future I plan to write more about parenting/mothering… Hope you’ll stay posted. Xx
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Absolutely! I’m pleased to read that your daughter has bonded with you. I’m looking forward to reading what’s to come.
xx,
mgh
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Thank you for sharing your heartfelt story. I enjoyed reading it. You write with a voice of dignity and care. Hold your head up high! 🙂
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I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for understanding. I hope the blog provides insight & encouragement
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Thanks for your kind words, Neesa. I’m so lucky my baby and I bonded so well despite everything. I find writing about it cathartic, but I hope it helps others in a similar situation feel less alone.
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