About 2 months ago, at 19 months, I weaned Baby S. We did it slowly, stretching out the intervals between nursings until only the early morning session that allowed us to laze about in bed a few extra hours remained. Then one night the boys did a backyard camp out with their dad, and that was it. I appeared with pancakes the next morning and all thoughts of breastfeeding melted away in syrupy goodness.
I thought I'd be ecstatic. I'd been building something of a breastfeeding bucket list-- an overnight trip with my husband, new bras, a turtleneck jumpsuit or some equally impractical outfit for nursing. But in reality I was depressed. I know it was the hormones. My shift in mood was so dramatic it was nearly laughable, but it didn't make going through it much easier. I was tired, irritable, making dinner was a struggle. Planning for a weekend camping trip seemed insurmountable. And it didn't help that my boobs shrank, my stomach bloated and my face broke out. As if I wasn't feeling bad enough all ready.
So for a few weeks I self medicated with coffee and chocolate and bad pop songs (thank you Spotify).
I invented a new game called "Mommy is a rock" that enabled me to lie curled up in the fetal position on my bed without (hopefully) disturbing my children too much. We ate a lot of pasta and Trader Joe's frozen what-not. Two months later I am now in a much better place.
Everyone knows about post-partum depression, but post-weaning depression, although less studied, also exists. You can find more scientific and more eloquent posts about it here and here. But I wanted to do a quick post as well, since there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of information about the experience out there.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
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