Why Breastfeeding Gave Me Nightmarish Panic Attacks

Imagine an intruder standing behind you, poised to attack. Imagine the jolt of terror you'd feel, the gut-seizing shock, the sheer panic. Now imagine that you have to experience this awful feeling not once, not twice, but multiple times every day . . . and that it isn't brought about by a literal intruder, but by an activity that actually makes most people feel good: breastfeeding.

We all know by now that there are a ton of good reasons to breastfeed. One of those reasons — mentioned in every piece of pro-nursing literature ever — is the warm and fuzzy feeling associated with it. The pituitary glands of nursing moms release oxytocin during every session, which is one of the hormones responsible for the letdown reflex that makes the milk flow. But oxytocin is also the same hormone involved in lovely things, such as emotional connection and stress relief, so it also promotes mother-baby bonding by making Mom feel all nice and gushy . . . euphoric, even . . . kind of like that "I love everybody" feeling when you've had one glass of wine too many.

So when I gave birth to my son in January 2008, I fully expected to feel that beautiful hormonal rush. But I was in for a nasty surprise . . . because I didn't feel it. At all. What I felt instead was a sudden, searing lightning bolt of fear at every single letdown. As the milk started to flow, so did the uncontrollable currents of fright. I would tense up so tightly I'd get muscle cramps, literally shuddering until the dreadful wave passed. More than once, I wrenched my neck looking over my shoulder for the threat that I logically knew wasn't there, but instinct forced me to look anyway. It was crazy. I thought I was crazy. A mother with this kind of weird reaction to breastfeeding? It certainly wasn't normal. The books and websites, after all, had never mentioned such a thing. There had to be something wrong with me.

Like anyone who thinks they're in some way abnormal, I consulted Google. I wasn't even sure what to type in; I think I ended up going with "I feel anxious while nursing." I'm no slouch at internet research, but I found absolutely nothing. I was too intimidated to ask my doctor. I mean, what if he thought I was too imbalanced to care for my baby? So I did the only thing I could do: switched to formula. My son was fine, I stopped having panic attacks, and life resumed as normal.

Late in 2009, I gave birth to my next son, and once again I was reminded left and right about how beneficial breastfeeding can be, so I vowed to give it another try. But I found myself in the same disturbing boat, feeling panicky instead of relaxed at every feeding. Desperate to get to the bottom of this mystery, I turned to the internet again — and this time it paid off. Between the first time I searched for it and the second, less than two years later, it had been identified as an issue by Alia Macrina Heise, a certified lactation consultant and mother of three who had also grappled with this type of experience. She gave the demon a name (Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex, or D-MER) and discovered that it wasn't psychological at all, but a legitimate physiological response to breastfeeding. I cried with relief that I wasn't crazy . . . and that I wasn't alone.

In a nutshell, D-MER is a condition triggered by dopamine, another "feel-good" hormone associated with breastfeeding. Dopamine inhibits the production of prolactin, which is necessary for letdown, so the body naturally produces less of it during nursing; but in sufferers of D-MER, the dopamine level plunges so quickly that it causes momentary feelings of sadness, rage, despair, or — in my case — overwhelming anxiety. It's rare, but now that "it" has a name, more and more women are recognizing that this is indeed what they've been experiencing. Unfortunately, there's little in the way of direct research on the condition, but as it gains notoriety through the shared experiences of the women who suffer from it, hopefully the scientific community will take more notice.

For me, the knowledge that it wasn't just in my head was all the treatment I needed. I still had the surge of fear at the beginning of every feeding — sometimes it lasted two or three minutes — but I felt much more in control now that I knew it was just my body having a temporary (if strange and unnerving) response. It was much easier to ride the feeling out and wait for the panic to subside; I would picture the hormonal rollercoaster going on within my body and breathe. I ended up successfully nursing my son — and the next, three years later — despite the D-MER.

So if you're one of the moms whose breastfeeding reality differs vastly from the things you've read, take heart: it's not just you, it's not wrong, and it doesn't have to keep you from nursing. It's simply your body's unique reaction, as involuntary as a sneeze . . . and knowing that fact is more than half the battle.

For more information and resources (and a reassuring dose of affirmation that you aren't alone), visit dmer.org.