1. YOU ARE NOT FINE! You're doing it, you're getting through the day, you're nailing it, but that doesn't mean you're "fine". You are far from.
2. Buy formula. Your kid won't die, and you're too sick to worry about breast feeding 24/7. Ever see anyone telling an adoptive parent they are poisoning their kid? NO. It will be fine for a few days while you get your shit together and it will give you a break you really, really need. Breast feed once or twice a day for immunity, but really....it is okay to lean right now.
3. This is really going to sound like a stupid idea, but call the people you feel will both most want to help and be the most surprised you asked. Think about it like a funeral. When someone dies, everyone really, really wants to help. They want to do...something. That's why everyone buys hundreds of dollars in flowers that go in the garbage or they bring way too many casseroles. They want to contribute, they know you are hurting, they just don't know how to help. And when you're really hurting, you don't know how to ask for the simple things that would help because you don't want to impose or seem like a burden. This is the biggest gulf between people. Everyone wants to help; no one wants to ask. You will be doing whomever you ask a FAVOR. They want to help, they really do. They just...don't know how. Call and ask for some specific things. You need pedalyte and Gatorade for the dehydration. You need a load of laundry done, canned soup, and someone to take out the garbage...seriously, make a wish list. Employ an army. Get a friend on the phone, tell them you're a fucking mess, tell them what you need, and watch as a swarm of people come to bring you time, energy, sustenance, an extra set of hands, and are HAPPY to do it.
   

I have a billion friends. They never ask. But if someone called me from across the country and said, "Hey, it's really bad....I'm struggling and I need help," I'd be booking tickets before I was off the phone. So would you. So would anyone. We are all addicted to helping each other. It makes us feel good, it makes other people feel good. We don't ask because we're afraid that we're weak, that we're less-than. I don't want you to see my dirty house, my messy kitchen, my fall-down mess. You want to seem okay. We all do. But if you're not, if what you need right now is for some friends to come and just hold the baby while you shower or do some shopping or just be there, call in back up. It sounds like you desperately need some back up. Hell, I have the weekend off, call me in. I have frequent flier miles.

But let's stipulate you can't. You're in Indonesia and your friends all have high-powered jobs and your family is full of asshats and it is just you.

Even so. Breath. Just breath through it, like labor. There will be this moment, then the next. You are okay. I am still serious about getting some formula (really, it won't kill your kid and it will give you a much deserved break without fucking up anything) but breath. This is nineteen kinds of horrible, but temporary. You will get through this, and get through the next thing, and eventually it will not be horrible, painful and crazy-making. Or, it will be, but in a different and more manageable way. Do some guided meditation to slow your head down. Try to accept that feeling miserable is real and valid and doesn't mean you're sucking at anything. It means you're winning because you are surviving and you haven't thrown the baby in a river and so you're getting through the motherfucking day. Which, based on what you described, might be the most heroic thing ever. Be NICE to yourself. Eat and sleep and watch shitty nexflix as much as you can. Don't stress what doesn't matter. The house is a mess? The laundry isn't done? Fuck it!!!! Your boobs hurt, you're basically a living zombie, you are getting through the day, and anyone not giving you an Olympic Gold Medal has clearly never done this bullshit.

You are okay. You're not fine, you're not "good", you're not on some weird, never-happens-in-real-life new mother endorphin high. You are in the trenches. Call in your back up if you can. If you can't, accept that getting to tomorrow is a huge accomplishment and not a failure, that you're NAILING it by keeping the kid alive and doing your best, and that this really, really, REALLY fucking sucks. But it won't for always. But it will for now. And it is okay to be a mess while you get through this part and anyone who judges you gets a square kick right in the shins.