Thought I should properly update y'all since it may have seemed like I've either fallen off of the face of the earth or that I've moved to a private island and am ignoring everyone. Here's the quick update - I have postpartum depression and it's bad. Need details? Read the saga below.
Last y'all heard, I was having problems breastfeeding Toby. He simply wouldn't latch on correctly and after a while just stopped latching really at all. He acted like he didn't want it but would cry from hunger. It drove me crazy, was very frustrating, and made me feel like my body was failing my son - so some self-loathing in there as well. Because of his jaundice and him losing weight, we supplemented with formula more and more. We tried using an SNS system first, which is a way to feed him formula simultaneously while he nurses in order to get him to latch and stay on (his main problem was that he just wouldn't stay on), but it just kept escalating into more problems so we'd just give him formula in a bottle more and more.
Starting from the third day in the hospital, my mind started going nuts. I'd cry for no reason and it would be horrible inconsolable sobbing. I cried more than Toby did. I had moments of feeling unattached to Toby, and couldn't understand why. Then on the 5th day when we returned home from the hospital it got much worse - probably because of the sudden lack of sleep (with the jaundice he slept more, but also for some reason I slept really well in the hospital even though he was by my bed most of the time - one night we didn't even have to send him to the nursery for a few hours because he was so quiet).
The unattachment to him just worsened with every hour it seemed. I also completely lost my appetite which is very unusual for me. I spent all those months with gestational diabetes just dreaming of all these things to eat once I had the baby and the diabetes was gone - then when I could eat it, I simply didn't want it. I had to force myself to eat anything, even my favorite foods. The bond I had felt with him those first few days, wasn't there anymore, and I became afraid to even touch him. I felt like I couldn't care for him, like I couldn't give him the care he needed. I saw my husband and mom just look at him and ooze this love for him and be able to talk to him and care for him as though it were second nature - I had none of that. I couldn't feel anything, and it hurt so bad. Inside my brain I felt as though I were two people - one was a mother who didn't and couldn't touch her son or even feel anything for him - and the other was someone looking on tsking and being well aware of how crazy that is. It just made my self-loathing worse and worse.
Then the images came. Horrible images would flash through my mind of him being hurt, I'd cry and not want to touch him because I might hurt him. I'd have horrible nightmares of him being hurt and I'd wake up and need to be with him, so I'd go over to him yet couldn't touch him. I had to force myself to feed and change his diaper just to give my husband a break. I tried to put on a happy face so he wouldn't see or feel my pain but I don't think it worked.
I kinda knew that I would suffer some sort of post partum depression, just because of my history with depression. I asked my OB if there is some way to prevent it, maybe raise my dosage of prozac or something, but he really isn't the kind of doctor to easily push medicine and thought I'd be fine. He said to remind him once we were in the hospital and he'd have a social worker talk to me. He was such a great OB that I trusted his instinct rather than my own intuition about what was about to happen. By the time a social worker spoke to me in the hospital, it was too late. He tried to get me a psych consult before I was discharged but I didn't get to ask for it until the next last day and the psychiatrist was too busy to see me. After a mess of trying to schedule an appointment, I finally got one to see her about three weeks later.
At one of Toby's appointments with the pediatrician, I was worse for wear. The pediatrician saw immediately what was going on with me and gentle prodded me for more information about how I was really feeling. At first I tried to say I was fine, but my husband said I wasn't and so I became honest with her and it all came out. She knew that I should be seen immediately by someone, so she asked my husband to make sure I called my doctor to let him know. We called right after the appointment with her, but turns out she was so worried that she had called him herself as well. They were able to get me in with a social worker (therapist) a few days later since my appointment with the psychiatrist still wasn't for over a week.
The therapist visit was all right I suppose. All I did was talk and cry, but she allowed DH to be there, so he got to listen to all the things I probably had been too exhausted or scared to tell him - and he got to listen to her response so maybe he could understand why his wife was going crazy. She confirmed it was postpartum depression and asked DH to take some night feedings, insisted I make myself eat, and assured me it was normal and that it will get better.
A week later I saw the psychiatrist, who was excellent, and she basically said the same thing. She reconfimed that I have a classic case of ppd but it was a bad one. She also gave me her cell phone number to call just to be assured I'm a normal person and will get better - I've only called her once although I probably should've called about fifteen more times but when you're depressed it's hard to do anything even if it helps you. She also doubled my prozac.
I wish that I could say that things have improved since then - but they haven't really. I have do have tiny little moments - the psych calls them glimpses - of normalcy and wanting to love on Toby - but they pass quickly. Right now the self-loathing just increases and most of my crying is over how I feel that he won't feel an attachment to me as his Mum since I'm so unattached and DH and my mom are doing most of the caring for him. The images and flashes are still there, and sometimes they include me hurting myself, just b/c I can't be a good mother. No matter how many times the people I love tell me I'm a good mother, I won't believe it because I haven't seen it for myself and I know they're just trying to help me get better.
As far as the breastfeeding is going - we've stopped that. The PPD has inhibited my milk flow tremendously but also the hormone in the brain that makes the body produce more milk - prolactin - just worsens the depression. I've felt so guilty though that I try to pump for him, but I didn't pump for a day and a half, and was only pumping once or twice a day so now I can only get about a quarter of an ounce each time. I decided to try to pump more often to try to get the milk flow back - but I'm also wondering if it will be worth it if it inhibits my getting better. I have to somehow improve enough to safely be alone with Toby as DH needs to go to work - we're so skint on money right now and have bills to pay - and my mom who is only home right now because she is recovering from gallbladder surgery, goes back to work Jan 7. I'm so scared when that happens because I just don't know how I am going to be able to handle it. And at the same time, I'm still recovering from the c section which is major abdominal surgery. I must have pulled a stitch open as well, as there is a hole in the incision which is leaking something yellow and that entire side just hurts all the time, especially when I'm moving around. The Dr put me on some antibiotics but those have finished and this is still going on.
So there you go. That is what has been going on with me. Toby is healthy, growing quickly, sometimes sleeping 4 hours at a time, and has the best Daddy in the world taking care of him. We're having formula problems, just trying to find the right one that works with his sensitive tummy that WIC will pay for (govt sponsored program to pay for milk, eggs and a few other things for women, infants and children that we're trying to get on). The formula we found that is perfect, WIC won't cover, so we're having to try others. And all that trouble just makes me feel guiltier about not being able to breastfeed or pump much and it brings on the self-loathing even more.
Oh yeah, Christmas came and went too. I think everyone enjoyed it. DH and I now own a video camera so we can send some video of Toby overseas to his British family, and whenever we live in England we can send video to the American family - once we figure out an easy way to put the video on the computer and send it.
Thanks for the gifts and cards - Taja, Tracy and Bill, Jen, Deb, Sue, Linda, Aunty Marian and Uncle Bill.
He loves to sleep on Daddy's chest. Note that the socks tell you the day of the week. It is worn not for the cuteness, but to remind Mummy and Daddy what day of the week it really is. Next we'll just need him to wear a big clock around his neck so we'll know if it is daytime or nighttime. 
