Please do not read the following with a closed mind and heart. Read this with understanding that this is a real problem, a real imbalance, a monster, and do not judge me nor anyone who can relate to me.
I am about to admit things that I am highly ashamed to admit, only for the sake of those who suffer as well. For those so that they may know that you are not alone, this is an unfortunate and common occurrence, you are not a bad mother, a bad person.
Also, please do not pity me. Pray for me, and others with this, too. Pity is not the answer. Strength, love, and support is key.
The National Library of Medicine defines post partum depression as "moderate to severe depression in a woman after she has given birth".
It is so much more than that. It's a deep, dark hole, that you slowly start sinking into. And the deeper you get, the faster you sink. I'm no expert on it for sure, but I thought I would share with you my struggles with it, so to help you.
Looking back now I see it beginning around 2 weeks post partum. Peanut was a super fussy baby (not blaming him) and I had a hard time handling it. I gave up breastfeeding at 3 weeks in a desperate attempt to make him happier. It was a small improvement, and I regret giving it up now. Please, if you are breastfeeding a fussy baby, try to make it through the first month or two, everything changes after that. Not to mention the -again- sudden change in my hormones sent my chemical balance into a spiral. I cried several nights at night as I told my husband that I wanted our old life back. That I just wanted it to be us. I didn't want to be pregnant to begin with, and now I was regretting having my beautiful baby boy, sleeping in his bed at the foot of ours. My feeling of not wanting my baby made me even more upset.
What kind of mother am I?! That I do not want my own child.
I became very depressed. Sad, withdrawn, robotic. Going through the motions everyday of caring for my teething, demanding toddler and my almost colicky newborn. I was exhausted and fatigued.
At the end of 4 weeks I was depressed enough that I began to notice that it was not normal. I began to think that maybe I had a problem. I knew about post partum depression. I also knew that my hormones were a lot crazier with Peanut's pregnancy. Twice it happened, I would look around my house, quickly becoming overwhelmed by all that needed to be done and consumed with rage. I would hold it in and sit on the floor crying uncontrollably for 15, 20, even 30 minutes. But "it was just hormones".
Then the weekend came, and Monday, and Tuesday, and I was fine. Maybe it was just the baby blues. I'm over it now. I am okay.
My mom called Wednesday to see how I was doing. Peanut was screaming again. Unable to calm him and trying to talk to my mom on the phone, I laid him on the couch beside me. I became numb to his screams. Madre could tell something was not right and talked to me about it.
The day only got worse. Bug was fussy and whiny and I took my frustration out on her. I knew she didn't understand. But the real me was standing behind a glass wall, screaming at this chemically imbalanced me, telling her how irrational she was being. I threw a dining chair, then a toy.
I knew then I had a problem, and I had let it get to far. I let the sadness and depression consume me into a rage that was sporadic and unlike me. I scared myself.
My thoughts of not wanting my son turned into thoughts, horrible urges to hit him, to punish him for screaming at me. Urges to throw him across the room as I tried -unsuccessfully- to rock him and comfort him.
Admitting that I had a problem was a big step. It is so much easier to tell yourself that you're a horrible mother, your a terrible and cruel person to think such things about not just a child, but your own child. It's easier to convince yourself of that than it is to tell someone else the things that you did, in fear that they will think those things and tell you that you are a horrible person.
I got online with my mommy support group and talked to them about it. They were a great help. Their support calmed me down and I was able to messaged Hubs and tell him I needed help, and not just someone coming over to assist with the kids. I needed real help with me. Admitting I needed the help was a next big step.
My parents came over and took Bug for the weekend to give Hubs and I a chance to figure out our next move. We moved Peanut to his own room for a night so I could get a full night of sleep. He slept better in there, so in there he stayed. Sleep helped. Sleep deprivation plays horrible tricks on the brain, especially one that is already imbalanced.
Seeking the help was another step, and a harder step. At first, the nurse sent me a prescription for Celexa. That was a disappointment. I wanted to sit down and discuss it first before throwing an antidepressant at it. So I called back and got an appointment. My doctor was a little more help. His wife had it too, and he assured me that it was more common than I realized and that there was help and that I would get better. We decided to use a birth control pill to balance my hormones and hopefully ease my depression.
Two weeks into my pack, I was seeing improvement. Peanut was calming down, things were stabilizing. People were helping.
Then one day it all fell apart again. Bug kept trying to crawl into my lap, walking around whining, wanting something I could not give her at the moment. There Peanut lay on the couch again screaming at me. I actually raised my hand as though to spank him. I stopped and laid him in his swing. As he drifted off to sleep finally, I got up to tend to Bug. I don't remember what cause the tantrum, but she threw one. I took her to her room, where she threw an even bigger one. I spanked her, which is nothing new (I apologize for those of you who are anti spanking, to each his own) however in my frustration I spanked her harder than I should have, and she didn't have a fluffy cloth diaper on to soften the blow. It really upset her. And it really upset me. Her tears and hurt on her face brought me back. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. What did I do? She just wanted mommy's love, she didn't understand, she didn't deserve this. I got her calmed down and as she played in her room I sat on the couch.
I felt like running away. I didn't deserve my family. My kids needed someone better than this. They deserved better. They needed a mother who would love them better and be kinder and more understanding and have a handle on her life. Who wouldn't fall apart when they needed her. I wanted to make it all go away. That was the first and only time I have had suicidal thoughts. I quickly erased those thoughts and began thinking about running away.
Where would I go? I then instead began thinking of just taking some time in the woods behind my house. I would just go. I sat down and wrote a note to my husband. Telling him how sorry I was for what I had done and that they needed someone better. I saw his truck coming down the drive as I packed my peanut butter sandwich and bottle of water in my jacket for my nature walk. And for some reason, I changed my mind. I grabbed a book and went and sat in Peanut's closet. I forgot about the note. Hubs tried to call me, my daddy tried to call me. I didn't want to talk about it. I text them both that I was okay. I overheard Hubs getting Bug ready to take next door. I didn't want to bring them into this so I came out and talked to him about it. My parents were already on their way.
My dad and I had a long talk. He was worried about me. After our talk I decided to start the antidepressant. within a few days I was feeling myself again. I recognized the person in the mirror once more.
Looking back it is hard to imagine those horrible thoughts, urges, and feelings. Looking at the smiling and giggling faces of my two beautiful children I wonder how I had let it get so far.
Every so often I forget to take my medicine, and the next day I feel myself slipping back, I become ill and easily frustrated. I dislike having to rely on a pill to be normal, to be me. It's still difficult to not think that there is something wrong with me, as a person, not mentally and hormonally. But my husband, family and friends are very understanding and supportive and it has made a great deal of difference. I also began going to church again. I needed to heal my spiritual balance if I ever planned to fix my physical imbalance. I sought after the Lord and He began healing me. He really has blessed me with a beautiful family and so much love. I have so much to be thankful for.
Exercise releases those endorphins and serotonin that is vital to balances those chemicals. I felt lots better once I began waking up at 5:30 and going for a 1 mile walk, taking a shower, getting dressed, doing my hair and makeup and eating breakfast. For starters, I'm not a morning person, so this gave me alone time to wake up before being bombarded with little people needing me. It also gave me "me" time that I seemed to be so desperately seeking. I was outnumbered and had not time for even personal hygiene.
Please, if you can in any way relate to this, if your baby is 1 month or more older and your sadness and "blues" are increasing and intensifying, seek help. It's there, and no one is/should judge you for it. You can't help it. It's not you. It's a chemical imbalance in your brain caused by all those flooding hormones. Somewhere along the line, your roller coaster broke and now it's just an endless spiral. Recognize that it's not that your roller coaster is faulty, it just needs to be repaired. You just need help. Talk to someone, anyone. Tell someone those things that haunt you. I admitted it early, but I wish I had sought help before I did.
I wish I hadn't had that "suck it up and be a good mom" attitude. "Be strong, be super mom" No! Stop trying to do it all. Stop trying to be super mom. Let the dishes pile up. Let the laundry lay unfolded. Eat leftovers, take out and frozen meals every night. Take care of yourself. Take care of your baby(ies). Being Super mom is overwhelming on an already exhausted system. Then the disappointment you feel when you fail is even more taxing on your weary emotions.
Get help!
Why are you in despair, O my soul? And
why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall again
praise Him For the help of His presence.
Psalm 42:5
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