*Disclaimer* I am not a medical professional, these are just my personal experiences. If you feel like you have the urge to harm yourself or anyone around you please contact help immediately. You are love, important, and valued.
Postpartum Depression. The big taboo of motherhood.
First of all, let me warn you in advance this will probably be scattered. These are just my thoughts as they come.
I remember when I got pregnant, and throughout my pregnancy I was honest with myself, a few close people, and my OB, that I predicted I was going to struggle with it. Depression, anxiety, body image, I have had problems with depression and anxiety in the past, and I’m a very black or white person. I’m either very happy, or very sad. I have gotten better, but it’s just who I am.
When I used to think of PPD I would think of those crazy ladies trying to harm their kids or themselves. Or of women obsessively missing their pregnant bellies; I’m not intentionally being insensitive this is just sincerely what I thought.
My experience, however, was completely different. Did I get it? Yes. But, I did not know at first. When you read the warning signs you read, “...if you feel like you’re going to cause harm to you or your baby..”. I never felt that way. I think that has something to do with why I was in denial.
I love Harper. I love her so much it physically hurts sometimes, she is absolute perfection and truly has impacted my world in such a way that I will never be able to explain to her with words that will do justice. How can I be blessed with the gift of pregnancy, motherhood, a beautiful baby girl, and be depressed? Well, for people that don’t believe in depression; it is science.
Like I said before, I struggled a lot before. In high school, the years after; to be honest I was in a very low place from 17 until I met Marcus (21), I was still battling when I got pregnant and still am to this day.
In a short explanation, depression messes with chemicals in your brain. So does pregnancy, add those together and you're one hormonal powerhouse.
My pregnancy was beautiful, I absolutely loved being pregnant. You’re growing a human! Your body makes something, how freaking awesome is that? It’s not something to be taken lightly. I had some truly magical moments being pregnant, but sadly, there was as many downs as there was ups. Then, with all of Harper’s birth complications, it was pretty set on my fate of PPD. Everyone always said it was hard when you had them; you’d feel empty. No more kicks, no more hiccups, no more belly rubs BUT you’d be going home with your baby and it would make up for it and make things easier.
Well, I didn’t get that chance. When I finally had to discharge, she was stuck in NICU. I remember crying the hardest I ever have when Marcus and I had to leave that night. We sat in the parking lot for a good 45 minutes. I wasn’t pregnant anymore, but I didn’t have my daughter either. I was empty and alone. I felt guilty for leaving, but I needed to sleep.
I was prepared for first time baby snuggles, nursing, staring at her sleeping next to my hospital bed. All of that was robbed from me, and there was no logical reason. So I blamed myself. I didn't know what else to do. I was a health freak being pregnant, I cut caffeine, ate clean, walked; it even surprised me how fast I cleaned my life up for her. Yet she was born with complications, so I had thoughts like, ‘Well if I hadn’t forgot my prenatal that one day in April..blah blah blah.” I literally thought ridiculous things like that to make sense of why my day old daughter was in such critical condition. That was a big trigger. Guilt. I should have done this different, should have ate this, should have should have should have and so on.
Fast forward to home; she’s finally home with us, on oxygen, but home. Marcus just got a new promotion, so he was working 70+ hours a week. It was winter, I was a new mom, not sleeping well. I missed all the signs but I was sinking fast. I took it out on Marcus. I’d cry, then I’d yell, I’d just sit on the couch for hours. I resented him; I hate to admit this but I did. He got to go out in the world and socialize, I didn’t want to, but I would have liked the opportunity. It’s a weird mom triangle of not wanting to see people but also needing to. I didn’t realize it was me taking it out on him due to a condition, not because in my mind we were failing and other ridiculous things. I had put the thought of PPD through my head, but brushed it away because I didn’t have bad thoughts about Harper, so I was fine right?
Well it was holiday season. I LOVE Christmas, everyone who knows me knows this. Well this is when I realized it was somewhat serious. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t go to the strolls, the ballet, make cookies. I was completely turned off of holidays that year . For lack of a better word I was numb to it all.
I finally confided in a friend, a friend that was really supportive through it all and still is, and she suggested I might have PPD. I did research, joined forums, talked to a few more people and realized not only is it more common than I thought, it also has so many branches. Just because I don’t resent my child doesn’t mean my resentment for Marcus isn’t a sign. I love Marcus, he is a truly phenomenal human being and I am so appreciative of his support in this journey of our life; so I knew I needed to find the root of my problem, because it wasn’t him. My lack of motivation or want to even get ready was a huge sign to me. Disinterest in things I love (Christmas).
But, I was still scared. I was scared to tell my doctor because I didn’t want Harper to get taken away. I literally thought that and it’s somewhat amusing to me now. Why would my daughter be taken away? Because I was paranoid and guilty.
I finally made the call to go see my doctor and I was terrified, I rescheduled twice. I felt ashamed. My daughter is beautiful; she sleeps through the night, she loves to be cuddled, she was perfect, why was I depressed? Even people who suffer from depression have to remind themselves it’s not a choice.
I finally went and my doctor listened. She is absolutely wonderful, but this day was truly great for me. She listened as I went on and on, I cried a lot, and she never said a thing until I finished. It was probably a good 30 minutes. Not only that, she talked back. She didn’t say, “well here’s some medicine let me know how you feel”. To be honest, talking about it out loud helped more than I anticipated. I said it, I have Post Partum Depression and I want help. I wasn’t thinking of self harming, or harming Harper, only occasionally Marcus (jk babe love you) but I knew I didn’t want to be an empty shell version of myself anymore. Not all days were bad, some days I felt “normal” but they weren’t enough. She gave me options and advice. I told her I had taken medications when I was younger and wanted to avoid that if I could, and she was completely supportive. I want to make an additional post of how I dealt with it in a few days, so I will go more into detail on that then.
The thing to remember is PPD is normal, common, and nothing to be ashamed of. I think half of the depression is stemmed from the guilt over being depressed. Being a mom is hard, there’s so many other adjectives it is, but it is true and true hard. You are constantly taking care of a small human being; brainstorming why they're fussing, crying, or awake at 3 AM. Then when they’re asleep you want to either clean, eat, sleep, or maybe brush your hair for the first time that week all while checking if they're breathing every 8 minutes.
That’s not an exaggeration.
Things aren’t the same.
I love my daughter, but sometimes it’s hard knowing going to the grocery store will never be easy again. Showers are cut short, intimate time with your SO is hard to make time for when you’re exhausted or just all touched out for the day. Sometimes you’re just hit with guilt and worry. Am I doing this right? Did I read to her enough? Am I holding her too much, not enough? Did I live a good enough life for her to be proud of me? That was a huge one with me. I wasn’t satisfied with what I had accomplished in life before having a baby. I don’t mean that in a “I didn’t go to Italy and own a vineyard and travel the world” way, I mean it in a I made mistakes and didn’t always live in a way that would make her proud. But now that I am coming out of it I realize, this isn’t true. Yeah, I made mistakes. Like I said, the years after high school were just a haze of immature choices and not many accomplishments. But what did I do? I found an amazing man who has completely turned my life around, I completely changed my bad habits and have immensely dedicated myself to my health, I have reformed bonds with my family and have a close relationship with all my parents, and now I have a beautiful daughter whom I take great care of. I’m a damn good mom. I don’t say that to be conceited, I just know it. I have never had a real purpose in my life, and Harper gave it to me. Marcus gave me motivation, she gave me direction. And that alone is helping everyday.
Depression is not something to joke around about. It’s hard, but it’s common. The first and sometimes hardest step is to admit it. Self affirmation if you must. “I have depression and I want help”.
I will be doing another segment of steps I took to battle this.
If you feel any of these signs relate to you, or just need to talk, I am always free to talk to any and everyone. Depression is lonely, but it doesn’t have to be.
XOXO
Shayla