Briefcase on the Kitchen Table

Back in June of 2019 I wrote a blog post titled “I hated breastfeeding… so I quit.” With my first baby I made it to three months breastfeeding and could not bring myself to continue another day. We were fortunate to have another month’s worth of milk stashed in our deep-freeze from nearly obsessive pumping (after some bad milk-supply advice at the hospital). Breastfeeding is a shocking amount of work. I assumed I found it mentally challenging because it was so new and demanding on top of all of the other changes that come with first-time parenthood. I had a lot of guilt about throwing in the towel but mentally I was not enjoying my baby or our time together so, with the full-throated support of my husband, I stopped.

In the two years since I stopped breastfeeding my first child, I have talked to other women about breastfeeding and pumping. Women have described a range of feelings related to this “all natural” process (the fact that women are made to feel that exclusively breastfeeding should be effortless is a conversation for another day). I would find other women who also did not enjoy it or who had stress and anxiety related to supply, latch, etc. but I never found another woman who described breastfeeding the way I did. I had a nearly vitriolic hate for breastfeeding, especially pumping. Right at the beginning of either nursing or pumping my mood would nose dive to a low I didn’t know I could feel. It only ever lasted for a minute or two but it was an awful place to exist for 60-120 seconds every three hours of the day. It was as though I received a call telling me my entire family died, a sadness and anger so acute for those 120 seconds that it was nearly dissociative. There were several times when I was pumping that I seriously contemplated throwing my pump at the wall, something that sane me never would have imagined. And then once I got through the first two minutes, the feeling lifted.

In October when my daughter was born, I confidentially jumped into breastfeeding again hoping for a much better experience the second time around. Almost immediately there was that familiar drop off. Right before my milk would let down my mood would plummet making me so sad, anxious, and full of self-loathing that I would burst into tears or rage at anyone who spoke to me. I was beyond frustrated. My baby was ready and willing to breastfeed and I felt so ungrateful for once again contemplating quitting early in the second month due to this emotional cliff. The dread I felt every time I prepared to feed the baby and the subsequent emotional spiral once I started feeding had me at my wits’ end every three hours. It felt incredibly selfish; I didn’t have any supply issues, my partner was (is) supportive, and I had “no good reason” to quit. I’d met with a lactation consultant several times to work on our premie girl’s latch early on but hadn’t mentioned this feeling. I had no other signs of postpartum depression and didn’t want to raise any alarm bells unnecessarily (in hindsight, I am ashamed of this decision- what was I so afraid of?). I decided to reach out to my consultant again. I described what was happening and she immediately replied, “Christine, I know what this is. It’s called D-MER. Let me send you some resources on it.” I clicked on one of the links she sent to me and this first paragraph changed my relationship with breastfeeding forever:

“A small percentage of breastfeeding mothers experience feelings of depression, anxiety, homesickness, agitation or anger beginning immediately before their milk lets down. This is called Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex, or D-MER. This is a physiological response (not a psychological response) that appears to be tied to a sudden decrease in the brain chemical dopamine immediately before milk let-down.” https://kellymom.com/bf/concerns/mother/d-mer/

I wasn’t crazy! It was real! For the next few days I was a sponge for anything I could learn about D-MER. Somehow just the knowledge that I wasn’t losing my mind was helpful. It didn’t make the dopamine drop-off stop at all but it did make it bearable. And it’s a good thing too. By six months our son was sleeping through the night but our little miss is still up every 2 1/2 to 3 hours to nurse along with three pumping sessions a day while at work and nursing in the morning and evening. Breastfeeding is certainly an endurance sport.

I have many other friends and family who are in the season of growing their families as well. Feeding babies is a regular part of conversation and, when it comes up, I mention D-MER. I have yet to meet a single other woman who has heard of it. I am hoping this can change because I have no doubt that other women I know have experienced this but likely also felt crazy. I am fairly confidant that J.K. Rowling must have experienced it because her soul-sucking description of what it feels like when dementors are nearby is spot on. Knowing what it is has helped and the lactation consultant provided me some hugely helpful techniques to bear those first two minutes of nursing/pumping. As a result we just reached the six month mark of exclusively breastfeeding our baby girl, a milestone I could not have imagined hitting. I have no idea how long we will continue but I do know that D-MER will not be the deciding factor in when we are done. And never be afraid to ask questions and ask for help; in hindsight I wish I would have mentioned it sooner and whole-heartedly hope that none of my friends or family will ever hesitate to ask for help either.