How to Suddenly Stop Breastfeeding when your Baby Dies: A Practical Guide
By: Without Willow
Tags: Trauma, Breastfeeding, Sids

Fewer than 30 minutes after I found Willow dead I was sitting on my sofa with an electric pump attached to my breast while a team of police officers watched over me. Below is my personal experience of how to abruptly and safely stop breastfeeding and also some notes on the effects of trauma.

I had 100% breastfed my daughter Willow. She was entirely grown by me, first in my womb and then through the milk I produced. It had been the painful fullness in my breasts that had awoken me. My body’s way of telling me it had been too long and that something was wrong.

Overfull breasts can quickly lead to serious infection so ignoring it, despite the devastating shock, was not an option and I was forced to do something about it almost immediately after being told my daughter had died. The metronomic vibration of the pump invaded the quiet of our living room as we sat slack jawed and numb in the mid night darkness. I’d hazily asked my husband if the pump was sterilised only in that moment realising that it didn’t matter anymore. Later the hospital provided me with a pump when we arrived and our discussions with doctors and visits to see Willow’s body were dispersed by the seemingly endless pumping. A regular and bitter punctuation to our first days without Willow.

I’d always assumed I didn’t have a very good milk supply despite evidence to the contrary. With two fast growing children who always seemed hungry, I had rarely experienced that full feeling. I had not much need to express or success with the pump. However, on abruptly stopping breastfeeding I was astonished at the volume of milk. Hundreds upon hundreds of millilitres poured out and were promptly tipped down the drain representing the feeds that were supposed to be for her.

Some people in a situation like mine choose to continue to lactate and donate their milk to a milk bank to help other babies. Those women are noble and brave but in my sorrow I just wanted to stop the milk as soon as possible. Here is how I went about abruptly and safely stopping breastfeeding.

Step 1: Pumping Strategy to Reduce Lactation

There is a delicate balance between pumping milk to avoid mastitis and not pumping too much to stimulate milk production. As a mother providing 100% of the nutrition to a hungry growing four month old baby I found in her absence that I absolutely had to pump at least every 4 hours in the first few days. I tried to pump as little milk as possible and to only ease the pressure. Feeling permanently full is painful and contributed to my inability to sleep in the beginning (something I’ll write about another time). Everyone I saw wanted to hug me when I couldn’t bear the physical pain of being squeezed. In the first day or so I expressed 80ml eight times a day with the intention of just skimming off the top 25%. I tried to last as long as feasibly possible between sessions. By the time a week had passed I had reduced to 30ml four times a day. After two weeks the milk had stopped.

Step 2: Managing Trauma and Let Down

The resentfulness of being attached to a piece of plastic rather than my baby was potent. My whole body ached for her. I’d never found producing milk for the pump very fruitful and after a few days when the initial devastation blurred into sorrow I found myself in a terrifying situation. My breasts were full but I couldn’t let down for the pump. With mastitis threatening and pain increasing, no amount of dimmed lights and cosy atmosphere could blot out the sorrow. I did all the recommended techniques: hot showers, looking at pictures of Willow, holding her clothes and blankets, listening to videos of her crying. My mind knew she was dead even if other parts of my body didn’t.

And still nothing but panic rising.

In the end the only thing that worked was looking at photos of my older son from when he was a breastfeeding baby. In an instant my body triggered into action. There is huge power in the mind and body. I’m forever in debt to the friend that had the courage to make such a difficult suggestion to look at photos of my live child instead of the dead one.

Step 3: Take medication?

Only after a week did a GP call to offer me medication to reduce my milk production. The recommended drug was an extremely strong hormone blocker. By this point it had started to slow and I had my “let down photos” at the ready. I decided I didn’t want to risk the drugs affecting my emotional state and I persevered with the graduate tail off. I can’t take ibuprofen due to a pre-existing medical condition otherwise that would have helped.

And now…

The bitterness I felt about continuing to produce milk for my daughter who no longer needed it was often overwhelming. One of the many trivial and awful tasks we faced in the weeks following Willow’s death was taking my supplies of frozen breast milk from the freezer, waiting for it to defrost and then tipping it down the sink. However being forced to self care to avoid mastitis so soon after Willow died probably did play a role in my ability to return to other basic functions like eating fairly quickly (within a few days). I’m planning to write more about how to eat and sleep after trauma.

I’m trying hard to be proud of my body for providing Willow’s home and sustenance rather than saddened by the postpartum damage I sustained to now not have the resulting baby.

I miss our seemingly endless afternoon feeding and napping sessions in my sunny bedroom. Happier times I’ll never forget.