Is breast always best?

A few weeks ago, I was warming up for a Crossfit class when the subject of breastfeeding came up. One of the men in the class was telling us about his new baby and how his wife was really struggling with breastfeeding. The women in the class let out a collective moan. We all agreed breastfeeding a newborn was incredibly painful. The instructor, my friend Bev, admitted she had tried breastfeeding once, not with one kid but one single time and just hated it. She felt like it would trap her even more than having a baby already did. She also felt like there was something wrong with her if she didn't want to breastfeed. Like maybe she wasn't a good mother. I struggled with some of these same feelings after I had Hazel and breastfeeding was so stressful and surprisingly painful. I had only seen women breastfeed older babies like 3 month old and it seemed effortless, they just draped a blanket over themselves, unhooked a few things and let the baby go to town. Some women even seemed to find it relaxing. I wondered what I was doing wrong because I hated breastfeeding and dreaded it every time my baby would cry. I've talked to many women who have struggled with feelings of inadequacy and guilt about breastfeeding their babies and I'd like to diffuse some of the pressure surrounding the breast vs. bottle debate. This is not a report of statistics or facts about how breastfed babies do in comparison to bottle fed babies, this is just my experience, take it or leave it.
First, the pain. For those of you who have not breastfed a newborn, imagine attaching a tiny vacuum hose to your most tender body parts for up to 12 times in a 24 hour period. The suction a newborn is able to produce is nothing short of amazing. If my milk hadn't let down before I started nursing, I would feel the pulling all the way to my armpits, sometimes even across my back! Before I had babies, I thought my breasts would release milk in a sort of stream, like a faucet. Now, that does happen occasionally, but most of the time it is more like a sprinkler, with the nipples releasing many tiny droplets from many parts. Each of these droplets feels like needles coming out of again, a very small and tender body part. Besides the pain, I think the worst part of breastfeeding my first was the confusion and frustration of not knowing how to do it. I thought breastfeeding would be so natural, that my baby would just latch on and my body would automatically produce enough milk for her. I was wrong on both counts. Babies have no idea how to do anything but suck, poop and cry and sometimes they even struggle with those few things. They will latch on to almost anything, as evidenced by this picture of my husband teasing our firstborn. He was surprised by how strong the suction was from such a little mouth.

And they want to suck all the time! I think Hazel was rooting day and night for the first few weeks of her life. She was always hungry! I used to cry right along with her when she woke up because I knew she was hungry and I was going to have to try to get her to latch on again. Now, I had read all the books and talked to the lactation consultant and they all said breastfeeding shouldn't hurt if you are doing it right. Talk to any mom and she'll tell you the truth, it sucks, literally. My mom told me about when she went to see her big sister, my aunt, in the hospital after she had her third baby. She said she could hear my Aunt Malinda yelling in pain as soon as she stepped off the elevator on the maternity unit. She was surprised to find her sister writhing in pain as she tried to nurse her newborn. My mom was reaching the end of her own pregnancy and was scared to death. 

So breastfeeding is really, really painful. 

But it doesn't stay that way. Women's bodies do miraculous things, as evidenced by pregnancy, and something magically happens after about 2 months of nursing, it doesn't hurt anymore. There's probably some science to it but I have no idea what it is, all I know is it stops hurting and becomes second nature quickly. So I think if you can survive the first 2 months, 8 tortuously long weeks, then breastfeeding seems to get much easier and actually be preferable to bottle feeding. 

Besides being essentially free and universally safe for your baby, breastfeeding will help you lose weight. 

Now, my third pregnancy was different for many reasons, I gained twice as much weight this time. I was so sick while pregnant with the girls that I only gained 26 and 28 lbs respectively. Also, because I finally saw a psychiatrist after my second bout of postpartum depression, I was on a slew of drugs during my third pregnancy which made me crave carbs incessantly and retain water. After I had the girls, my pregnancy weight essentially melted away just from nursing and going for walks with friends. Not so after the boy. I can now say I have lost 10 lbs since Hyrum was born but that's after 2 months of CrossFit and slowly cutting back on my medications. Because of the heavy doses of medication I was on when I found out I was pregnant, my Dr. warned me I should not breastfeed. At first I felt a little guilty, I even considered going off my medication completely just so I could breastfeed the little guy. I felt so incredibly selfish that I wouldn't be able to provide this great thing for my baby because I was unwell. I thought maybe I could just exercise a lot and eat really well and maybe I didn't need all that medication. I even saw a chiropractor who encouraged me to stop my medication cold turkey. But my husband warned me that breastfeeding my baby wasn't worth risking my life and that it wasn't fair to him and the girls for me to jeopardize my health by going off my medication without my Dr.'s consent. So I resigned myself to bottle feeding my little man and the more I thought about it, the better bottle feeding seemed. Minus the inconvenience of making up a bottle at night, which I solved by buying a nice bottle warmer that kept bottles cool until it was time to feed the baby, then I could safely warm them in a steam bath. So I've been bottle feeding Hyrum for 6 months now and I absolutely LOVE IT! It is amazing! I wish I had bottle fed my other kids that is, unless the girls turn out to be brilliant and Hyrum's just normal, I don't know, it still might be worth it. I cannot believe how much easier it is to bottle feed. Hyrum slept longer than my girls ever did, going 5 hours by the time he was only 1 month old, he gained weight faster whereas my girls were both "failure to thrive." (terrible words for a new mom to hear). And the best part was how much help I could get. It wasn't all up to me to feed this new baby, anybody could do it. I had the help of my husband and my parents, my sisters and many of my friends, it was so much easier than my first two babies. Now, I know bottle feeding wasn't the only reason I haven't lost much weight yet and baby number 3 is probably easier for most moms but I really want to encourage moms to let go of guilt over not being good enough, not doing enough or being everything for their kids. Something baby number 3 has taught me is that there are a lot of ways to feed a baby and getting support makes everyone happier. So long story short, don't be afraid to hand over your little one to someone with a bottle and get some rest once in a awhile.

burdens or blessings

While reading Frog Song by Brenda Z. Guiberson and Gennady Spirin with Hazel at bedtime tonight, it occurred to me that I am like a frog, a male midwife toad to be precise. This amphibian carries his sticky eggs on his back and crouches under a wet log to keep them moist. When he feels the tadpoles squirming, he hops into a pool where they can hatch. Despite the gender difference, among other things, I feel a kinship with this burdened amphibian. I'm sure he'd rather be swimming or cavorting egg-free somewhere in the swamp but, after settling down with a female, he takes it upon himself to ensure the safety of his posterity. He knows instinctively that these tiny lives cannot survive without his constant and attentive care. He enters a sort of hibernation, in which his froggy cares are simplified and focused on performing this one crucial task, to preserve his species. During this time, he gives almost undivided attention to the undeveloped and vulnerable tadpoles on his back. He carries them, protects them, and finds an environment within which they have the best chance of survival. He patiently bears this period of inactivity, knowing it will soon pass and he will have performed his duty well.
I admire the midwife toad in his dedication and concentration. He knows how important it is to care for his young and he doesn't allow anything else to distract him from his responsibility. He literally carries them on his back until they can survive without him.
Often I feel overly burdened by my three babies. Discouraged that I am not measuring up to the standards of success found in the world. That to find happiness I must accomplish some great thing. Reading about the male midwife toad and his actions has reminded me that nothing else I do in my life will be as meaningful or as fulfilling as being a mother. There is no way to measure the impact I can have on these young lives. I know it is a God-given responsibility to nurture, protect and teach my children, one worthy of my very best efforts. So I'll keep carrying my three babies, on my back and in my arms until they're ready to venture out on their own.

Beautiful

Pain at not knowing myself, not understanding myself or not liking me. The Happiness Project "Be Gretchen" I need to "Be Chazlyn" but who is she? nobody knows. Am I like everybody else? Do I want to be? I used to think if I was prettier, if I did my makeup a certain way or had a thin, bronze body, if I could just sculpt my legs and tone my butt a little more. Then I would feel beautiful. But it doesn't work, this type of beauty is ever elusive. There will always be someone skinnier, tanner, more in shape. I will never win this contest. So I give up. I stop doing my hair, stop putting on makeup, who has time for that anyway? Not me, I have 3 small and very demanding beings depending on me all the time. So do I get a pass? I don't have to beautiful now, life isn't about being beautiful right now, it's about surviving each day with my house, my kids and my sanity intact. But is it ok to just survive? Will I look back at this time in my life and wish I had done more? Probably not. I'll probably look back and wonder how I did it. Maybe I'll just block it out like a bad and slightly embarrassing memory. I am so afraid of regret; I listen to people and their regrets and vow to not let those be my regrets. I will do it right, I will listen and gather information and do everything right and then nothing bad will happen to me or my family. I will protect them all from anything bad ever happening. But I can't, it's futile and the futility leaves me feeling helpless and worn out. Why bother? I vacillate between helplessness and zeal. Today I'm going to care, I'll wake up at 5:30 and exercise then come home and shower and do my hair and makeup and fit into my clothes. Then I'll cook a healthy and filling breakfast for my 3 littles. Then we will do engaging and developmentally appropriate activities from Pinterest. No one will eat between breakfast and lunch time. I will not walk on crumbs all day and find ants in my kitchen or spiders in my windowsills. All my children will nap at the same time allowing me to have some time to myself maybe to do some yoga or meditate. Then I will cook a delicious and impressive dinner from organic, free range, pesticide-free foods. We will all playfully enjoy each other's company until bedtime. I can't continue, it's too much of a sham. This never happens. Maybe one of those things will happen on any given day. It's like an allotment; either dinner will turn out great OR the kids will all nap at the same time (and of course I collapse in a heap on my bed as soon as they're quiet in their rooms, who wouldn't?) OR we do a fun craft OR the kids play nicely together. Man, I'm a mess. It's really hard for me to be a mess. My life is a mess. A sticky, fussy, kiss it better, read this story, I have to go potty MESS! And I feel like I'm drowning in it. Trying to be patient with my body, trying to be understanding that I only fit into yoga pants (that I never actually do yoga in) trying to feed my family well, work with a budget, read my scriptures, get enough sleep, exercise (I really hate CrossFit, it's so stinkin' hard and I'm always so sore!) I'm just so tired. And I deserve a rest. Good night.

Resources for mental health

http://metro.co.uk/2014/02/06/time-to-talk-day-shaking-off-the-stigma-of-mental-health-4265834/

Managing mental health can be a daunting task. With postpartum depression I believe your first line of defense should be getting help from family or friends. Taking time for yourself, getting sleep and getting breaks from your baby will do wonders for your health. Next, talking to your OB/GYN about your state of mind is a must. I think 6 weeks is WAY too long to go without seeing a doctor after having a baby. So much can happen in 6 weeks! Don't hesitate to call your OB/GYN if you are having dark thoughts or your anxiety is affecting your ability to sleep or take care of yourself and your baby. I recently talked to a mom who said she wished she had known she was struggling with postpartum depression sooner so she didn't have to suffer for so long without relief. She now starts anti-depressants while she's pregnant in anticipation of postpartum depression and has found it to be much more manageable. Sometimes just talking to other moms can be so helpful. Knowing you are not alone or a bad mom if you have dark thoughts or just feel stretched to your max by the demands of motherhood can be so reassuring. I find myself hanging out in the mothers room at church just to talk to other moms about how they are coping with a newborn.
After having Hazel, medication was enough to help me feel well again but after having Emma, I was really struggling and my OB/GYN recommended I see a Licensed Clinical Social Worker or LCSW. Talking to her helped immensely! It was like talking to a girlfriend who had training in how to help me talk back to my thoughts. She did what is called Cognitive Behavior Therapy or CBT with me. It is first being aware of thought processes and then making efforts to change those patterns of thought. Luckily she accepted my insurance as sessions can cost up to $200. When we moved to Utah I looked into seeing a psychiatrist to manage my medication because my depression and anxiety were still out of control even with the drugs my OB/GYN had prescribed. I soon found out it is incredibly difficult to see a psychiatrist. It was frustrating to find one that would accept my insurance and they are usually scheduled 6-8 weeks out if they are even accepting new patients. I spent a lot of time on my health insurance website scrolling through doctors and calling to try to get an appointment. If you don't have insurance, check with your County Health Department as there are government programs to help with mental illness. It's a lot of work but you really have to go to bat for yourself and your health. Or have someone advocate for your wellness, like a mom or a sister or a spouse. I strongly believe it was an answer to prayer that I finally found my psychiatrist. She is wonderful and has helped me so much. I'm lucky enough to have to only pay a $15 co-pay at each visit. I meet with her once a week to go over situations when my anxiety has been overwhelming and to analyze my thoughts and reactions to events. Generally, Licensed Clinical Social Workers and psychologists do Cognitive Behavior Therapy but do not prescribe medication, an OB/GYN can help with that. Or you can see a psychiatrist that can do CBT with you and manage your medication. It gets overwhelming, I know. But my husband reminds me if I had high blood pressure, I would take medication and alter my lifestyle to treat it. It's the same with mental illness, my brain doesn't function properly and I need to take medication and alter my lifestyle to manage it. I have found the more I talk to other people and the more I learn about the brain, the easier it is for me to take care of myself and to accept my mental illness.

Books for brain health:
Change Your Brain, Change Your Life by Dr. Daniel Amen and pretty much anything by Dr. Amen. He's great at outlining the why of depression and anxiety and giving applicable practices for change. He maintains the perspective that we can mold and shape our brains to be more effective, happier and better functioning. He identifies different types of "Automatic Negative Thoughts or ANTS" that are common to people who struggle with anxiety and depression. Dr. Amen's perspective and resources have helped me feel validated in my struggles and have given me strategies to cope with anxiety and depression.
Self-Esteem by Matthew McKay and Patrick Fanning
Honestly, I only read the first half of this book because there was so much information and so many exercises that it got a little overwhelming. The parts I did read helped me build my self-esteem and conquer my self-doubt. Reading this book also helped me identify my "Inner Critic" and dispute his claims.
One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskam
I haven't read this one yet but a friend recommended it and it's a New York Times bestseller. The author is a Christian, a wife, a mother and a blogger. Read her blog here. I look forward to reading it.

One last note, the effects of exercise on brain health are prevalent especially aerobic exercise as it increases blood flow and oxygen to the brain. I am trying to do more to be active, to enjoy my body and to be a good example to my children. If there are things that have helped you be happy and well please comment, I'd love to hear from you.

Let your humanity show

I started this blog because I love to write and I needed an outlet to vent my frustrations about myself, society, motherhood, and life in general. I've continued to blog in an effort to raise awareness about mental health, specifically anxiety and depression. I've tried to be very transparent about my struggles because I think too often we report the good things online, hiding the bad or suffering alone. The more I talk to people, the more I am convinced that everybody has fought feelings of inadequacy, anxiety and depression whether momentarily or chronically. I am the latter. 

I would like to stand before you today as a whole, complete person who has overcome postpartum depression. Someone who can offer support, resources and hope. But I can't. I'd like to look back on my time as a new mom and say I did it, this is what helped me and you can do it too. But I can't yet. My last visit to my psychiatrist made it glaringly obvious that I am still in the midst of this trial. There is no cure for mental illness, only treatment. Which is so crushingly painful to bear. Knowing that I may always struggle with depression and anxiety, I may always have bouts of wellness interspersed by periods of depression. The things that make it easier to bear are medication and the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I have found anti-anxiety medication, anti-depressants,and anti-psychotic medication to be essential to my wellness. I've been on Buspar, an anti-anxiety, for about six years now. I hemmed and hawed about taking a pill for a long time, weighing the pros and cons and trying to come to grips with having anxiety. I didn't realize how much anxiety was affecting my life until I found relief from it. Learning more about anxiety and the brain has helped me realize I've had panic attacks since childhood. I was lucky enough to find relief in the first pill I tried which isn't always the case. Medication can be such a trial and error process between dosage, side effects and insurance, it can seem like it isn't worth it. For me, it has been. With medication my anxiety is tempered and I'm able to relax and live life more fully. 

I've been on an anti-depressant for 3 years now. After Hazel was born, Zoloft helped obliterate the dark thoughts and overwhelming sadness. I've talked to many women who experienced these "baby blues" being tempered by anti-depressants. The common theme among them is they wish they had known it was normal and that medication would help immensely. In some countries doctors, including psychiatrists, make home visits during the immediate postpartum period to offer support and education to recovering mothers. I would like to see this implemented in the United States. So many of us face this scary time alone and it doesn't have to be that way. I continue to take a high dose of Zoloft but hope to cut back on it because it revs up my nervous system and makes my anxiety higher. For me, wellness is such a delicate dance between brain chemistry and medication. I was doing well for a month or two but when I found out the anti-psychotic I'm on was likely the cause of my unusual weight gain, my psychiatrist suggested I try to wean off of it slowly. It's hard to realize I was doing well because of medication and that I may need it for the rest of my life. I'm hoping to get on another anti-psychotic, one that doesn't cause weight gain, and to do well with a lower dose of Zoloft. But I'm realizing these things take time to sort out and I need to be patient with myself. So for those of you who are anxious, depressed or more than a little crazy, I'm right there with you. Let's find wellness together. 

To find out more about the gospel of Jesus Christ and how it has helped me stay strong in the midst of mental illness click here.

You are not alone

When I had Hazel, I had so many doubts. Doubts about myself as a mother, my ability to do the right thing, my efforts to care for this vulnerable little person. My doubts were ever present but not always at the forefront of my thoughts. It was like having an old, hideously ugly great aunt staying with me. I didn't want to interact with her or really even look her way but I had to, she's a part of my family and therefore a part of me. And sometimes she was so demanding! Right in my face, all warty and wrinkly with foul smelling breath. She would block out everything else, all other thoughts, desires, actions. I would be completely consumed by her presence. But sometimes I could keep her in my peripheral vision, just on the outskirts of my awareness. And I would think, "This isn't so bad, I can handle this." As long as I didn't look at her, I could almost forget she was there. But late at night or after a day filled with crying, pooping and isolation, she would be right in my face again, haunting me with racing thoughts and dark feelings.
If you have struggled with this, even if you don't struggle all the time, I'm here to tell you two things: you are not alone and there is help for you. 
Before I had kids, I had no idea how taxing a newborn could be. I'd never been so sleep deprived, so stretched to my limits and so worried. I would see other moms taking care of numerous children and think I was inferior in some way because one baby was so hard for me. In America we value independence almost above all else and sometimes it can be to our detriment. I'm realizing now that it really does take a village to raise a child. I cannot possibly be everything for my kids, they need other responsible adults in their lives in order to grow up and be well adjusted people. I have loved living by family, it has eased some of the immense burden of child rearing. If you don't live by your family, I suggest you build a network of friends who can love and support you and your children. We really do need each other. Tim always says economies of scale work well with child care. Also, don't forget you have a loving Heavenly Father who is rooting for you and will send angels down to buoy you up. (Motherhood: An Eternal Partnership with God.) I remember a talk by Elder Holland in which he said "Christ knows better than all others that the trials of life can be very deep and we are not shallow people if we struggle with them." (An High Priest of Good Things to Come, Elder Holland, October 1999) He is there for you always, pray to Him for help and He will not let you down.
In regards to getting help, you have to ask. Nobody can read your thoughts (you probably wouldn't want them to anyway) and you can seem surprisingly put together even when you're coming apart at the seams inside. You aren't doing anybody any favors by pretending you're fine when you're really struggling. So be honest when people ask you how you're doing. Say things like "I'm not getting any sleep and nursing is so painful." I've been surprised how empathetic and helpful people can be when they know you're suffering. When people offer to help you, tell them what they can do. I used to hate it when people would say "Call me if you need anything." Because I didn't think they really meant it. Well, most of the time they really do want you to call, they may want to help but aren't sure how. Don't feel like you're putting anybody out by asking someone to come over and hold your baby while you shower or take a nap or get out of the house. People love babies, especially other people's babies. And don't worry that something will go wrong, most women have raised children to adulthood with little to no tragedies. Your baby will not stop breathing the minute you leave the house, she probably won't even notice you are gone. Plan breaks when you are doing well. I'm terrible at this. I wait until I can't stand one more minute of crying, pulling, demanding baby behavior and then I try to call someone. It's incredibly frustrating when you're so frazzled and you can't get a hold of anybody to come help you. So plan to take time for yourself before you're at your wits end. If you have more than one kid, farm them out to several people. They'll love playing with friends and you'll be a better mom because of the break. And don't worry about not being able to reciprocate child care. I felt guilty about this for months. I didn't want to trade with any of my friends because I was having a hard enough time with my own children, let alone adding some one else's kids in the mix. Also, I didn't trust myself with other people's kids, I wouldn't want someone struggling with postpartum depression to watch my kids so I got comfortable being on the receiving end of service. I know my turn will come again to be on the giving end of service but for now, I need a lot of help.
I hope you can benefit from my insights, experiences and testimony of Jesus Christ. I love reading your comments and feeling your support. Thanks for reading my thoughts.
PS- I just found this Ted Talk that speaks volumes about depression. It's by a teenager named Kevin Breel and it's entitled Confessions of a Depressed Comic.

This is the way we go to church

We moved! On a Saturday morning and we ambitiously planned on attending church the next day in our new ward. Tsk, tsk, we should have known better. It was a disaster! We found our ward boundaries and meeting time online but start time was 1:00 and sacrament was listed as starting at 4:00 which doesn't make sense in the 3 hour block we're used to so we decided we'd just show up at 1:00 and see what we could find out. So we have all morning to prep for church and 1:00 sneaks up on us way too fast! I think I spent all morning raiding boxes looking for something suitable to wear, times three. I unwittingly unpacked all my skinny clothes first so not only did I strike out on finding a dress numerous times, I'm not feeling great about myself at this point. At 12:45 I've finally found a dress that will work but it's as wrinkly as an old man so I pull out the iron. I can hear Tim changing the baby while the girls run wild in the hallway trailing tights and hair bows oh ya and my hair's still wet. Talk about stress! So we get the kids dressed and sufficiently groomed for public and we shoo everyone to the van and we're on our way to church but we're not positive it's our church we're relying heavily on lds.org to lead us to the right ward. We park and get everyone unbuckled, unloaded and on our way inside. I was carrying the baby while Tim patiently herds the girls inside. I take a few deep breaths so I don't feel so frazzled. I peek my head in the chapel to look for a spot to sit and it's packed. There isn't any room in the foyer either. There's no where to sit at all and there's no way we can keep our kiddos contained in the hallway. At this point I wanted to throw in the towel and just go home (really I've felt that way all along but I tried to put on a brave face for the children). So we walk around the church hoping to catch a seat in the foyer on the other side, nope, also full. Every seat in the house seems to be taken. The deacons come out with the sacrament at this point and offer the bread to us. Sure, I think, we can do this, Tim's got the girls, I'll just shift the baby to my other hip, hike the diaper bag up on my shoulder again and I take the bread. #2 child takes a handful and #1 puts some back, no big deal right? Probably happens all the time. I give Tim a defeated look and whisper "let's go, we can try again next week." He chats with a few people in the hall to make sure we're in the right place before we head out. We aren't. Our ward is in class right now, not sacrament. They do it old school with sacrament last. At this point there is no way I have the energy or patience to find nursery, priesthood, the mother's room and Relief Society and get everyone where they need to be for the next 2 hours. Plus, I'm sweating like a high school wrestler and my feet are killing me because I never wear heels except to church. So we agree we'll find out where classes meet so we know where we're supposed to be next week and then we'll head home. Priesthood, Relief Society, mother's room, senior nursery, junior nursery and we're on our way out the door! But not before the baby pukes all over me. In my hair, on my dress, all over himself, it's called projectile vomiting for a reason folks. It may have even gotten on the floor, I didn't check, I just scuttled out to the van as quickly as I could. We got everyone buckled back in their seats and headed home.

After this crazy experience, I can see why some people do not attend church. It's a pain, it's hard being new and not knowing anybody. Who really cares if you go to church anyway? Well, I care. I go to church because I love the Lord and I believe He has asked it of me. I know attending our 1:00 ward will be a challenge with a baby and 2 toddlers. Come 2:50 when we head into sacrament, I'll probably want to pull out my hair rather than wrestle with my kids for another hour and 10 minutes. But I will do it because of my conviction that it's the right thing to do and I and my family will be blessed by the Lord for our obedience. 

But I sure hope next week goes more smoothly. Any tips?