My Struggle with Postpartum Depression
It started when I was
pregnant. I was late for my cycle and had been doing fertility treatments so I
thought I better take a test. Sure enough it was positive. I was finally
pregnant after four years of trying! I sat in the bathroom trying to decide how
to tell my husband. Should I go tell him now? Father’s day was soon, I could
probably keep quiet till then and surprise him. But I decided not to wait and
went into our room with the test in hand. I couldn’t keep the smile from my
face when I handed it to him.
My next reaction scared
and surprised me. I felt an overwhelming, heaviness that I can’t really
describe. I thought to myself over and over, “I’m not ready for this! I can’t
do this.” And the worst thought, “I don’t want to be pregnant.” These thoughts
continued off and on throughout my pregnancy. Sometimes I would just stand in
the shower bawling my eyes out because I couldn’t get rid of these thoughts. I
hated myself for it.
At that time I didn’t
really understand postpartum depression. I had heard of it, but had no idea
that it could start while pregnant. I had such a hard time making a connection
with my unborn baby. Sometimes I didn’t even feel pregnant. I followed her
weekly growth, but never imagined her tiny toes, or daydreamed of how she’d
look, or cried when I heard her heartbeat – like everything I read online said
I should. When we found out she was a girl I was disappointed. I was disconnected from the miracle growing inside me. I didn’t
understand why. We had tried and struggled to get pregnant and I finally was!
So why did I feel so empty? I was already a terrible mother and my baby wasn't even born yet. And again, I hated myself for it.
It wasn’t until I felt
her move for the first time that I guess the joy and excitement finally hit me.
Because my placenta was anterior (it was against my stomach/the front of my
uterus instead of being on top like normal) and it was very large because I was
pregnant with twins (the other baby stopped developing at about 10 weeks. A “vanishing
twin” as they call it) I didn’t feel her move till about 7 months. It felt so
weird! No way to describe it except that it felt like something moving inside
me. From that point on I was so happy and excited. But there was still that sad
feeling and anxiety hiding inside me.
Then I went into labor.
It was a long, difficult labor. I was absolutely exhausted – 38 hour labor who
wouldn’t be? But I have never felt so much happiness and love ever before in my
life. Seeing my baby girl’s beautiful face, hearing her cry and holding her in
my arms for the first time was indescribable. That night I slept with her in my
arms, I couldn’t let her go!
Those feelings of euphoria didn’t last long. My sadness and anxiety that had been hiding decided to surface again. I just could not seem to stay awake. I wanted to engulf myself in my beautiful baby, smoother myself in her perfection, but at the same
time all I wanted to do was sleep. The second night both my husband and I were
so extremely tired and Evanna wouldn’t sleep, I didn’t know what to do, so we
decided to send her to the nursery for a couple hours just to get some rest.
When the nurse came in to take her I was already feeling it. Feeling that
tightness in my chest, I felt like I was suffocating! And then came the flood
of tears. I have never cried so hard in my life as they wheeled her away.
Needless to say I didn’t get any sleep the two short hours she was gone. My
arms ached for her. And this separation anxiety has continued to this day.
When you hear or read
about postpartum depression it’s usually about the mom not feeling an
attachment or even love for her baby. The mom not taking care of herself and neglecting
her baby, thoughts of hurting herself of her baby etc. This was not the case
for me. It was the opposite. I couldn’t take care of her good enough. I felt so very attached to my baby that leaving her to go to the
bathroom would give me an anxiety attack. I literally laid in bed all day with
her. Laid in bed and cried. And when she cried I cried more. I would just hold her in my arms all day and cry. I never slept. I wanted to sleep, I tried to sleep, I desperately needed to sleep, but I couldn’t. I never ate. I just cried. Don't get me wrong, I was happy. I would still laugh and smile and play with my baby. I love my baby more than words! But I couldn’t seem the shake the sad feeling, or get rid of the anxiety. It's hard describe what it's like to be both happy and sad at the same time.
During the day I was
alone. All day, Everyday. Then night would come and by then I was so tired
because I didn’t sleep at all during the day – I was too worried that she would
stop breathing, or she was hungry, or too hot, or too cold, or any other ridiculous scenario I would
imagine. At night I would get angry. I have never taken my anger out on my
baby. I believe God kept me calm enough not to do anything terrible. But I
poured all my anger onto my husband. He has been so helpful! And I know he is
tired too. Not sleeping and still working ten hours or more a day. He was just
as new to this as I was, but I couldn’t control my anger. I’ve never thought myself
to be an angry person, but some nights I can feel it burning inside me. I was
so scared my husband would leave me because of how I treated him. But I didn’t have
any control. I hated it. I hated myself more and more with each day.
This continued for
weeks. My separation anxiety from my baby was getting worse. I wouldn’t even
let people hold her. Only I could take care of her. My red hot anger towards my
husband was getting out of control. I never slept. I never ate. I never wanted
to leave the house because that caused too much anxiety. All day I told myself
over and over what a terrible mom I was, I didn’t deserve my miracle baby,
everything would be better if I just disappeared. I was losing my mind! At my
two week appointment with my midwife I lied and told her I was doing great! I
lied to almost everyone about how I was doing. I was even lying to myself that
what I was feeling and going thru was normal that I would get over it. I didn’t want to tell anyone that
I felt like I was going crazy. So at my six week appointment I knew I had to
tell my midwife the truth. I needed help. And I needed to be brave enough to
ask for it.
My precious baby girl
is now four months old and I am still dealing with this. My midwife prescribed
me Deplin, which is basically a strong Vitamin B combo that has already been partially
broken down so it’s easier for your body to absorb because Vitamin B goes hand
in hand in with your emotions. And it has helped, but I still have bad days. A
lot of bad days actually. Really none of this should be in past tense. But little by little it is getting better and easier.
I don’t hate myself as much anymore. I am starting to believe that I am in fact
a good mom and it is ok to let other people help me take care of my baby. I’m
not supermom, but I am the best mom I can be.
I don’t really know why
I felt like I needed to write this and share it. Maybe someone out there is
suffering silently too. Maybe to help raise awareness about PPD and Anxiety.
Maybe I’ll never know why. But I think God is telling me to do this and I can’t
brush the feeling aside any longer. As I sit here on my bed with my loving husband
next to me, my Dudley dog at our feet and my sleeping baby snuggled against my
leg I feel so much love and joy. I try to thank my Heavenly Father every day for my amazing
husband who has stuck by my side. A husband who has worked so hard to give us
the wonderful life we have. A supportive, loving family. And beautiful, angel
named Evanna. Her name is an old Hebrew name and it means miracle/gift from God. She is my Guardian Angel. I am a better person with her because of her and I can’t even
begin to express my thanks for my beautiful little family I have been so very
blessed with.
