I was 26 years old when I had my first child. My pregnancy was easy, spent mostly in a blissful haze. Labor and delivery was a cinch, the only downer was I didn't sleep for 2 days.
After he arrived, I felt euphoric. That's really the only way to explain it. In the hospital, they made us read pamphlets and watch videos on post partum depression (PPD) which I dutifully did. However, I knew this would not be an issue for me--I felt great!
All went well and we were sent home after a few days. We walked into the house and I began to start crying and basically didn't stop for the next 30 days.
He was a challenging baby--he loved to nurse and didn't love to sleep! I was barely sleeping and nursing what felt like around the clock. He wouldn't take a bottle so it was up to me. I wasn't eating or sleeping or taking care of my own needs.
Slowly things started to spiral out of control. I started to resent him, to believe that I had made a terrible mistake in having a child. I told anyone who would listen what a huge mistake I had made. As hard as it is to admit this, I had thoughts of taking both of us out. I had to drive over a river to get to my parents house and each time I had an urge to just careen off the side. It would make it easier for us all was what my brain was telling me. It sounds bonkers. But to me, in that moment, it all made perfect sense.
It came to a head about a month after his birth. We were at my parents house. I was basically catatonic on the couch. People would place him in my lap to nurse and I just stared blankly ahead. My husband asked my mom to stand watch that night--he didn't want me left alone with my baby. Good call.
The next morning I called my clinic. I was trying to say the words--"I think I have postpartum depression" but I kept crying. I felt so ashamed and like a total failure. The nurse understood and told me they could see me in 15 minutes. I went up there, talked to my doc and got on some meds.
After a day or two, the fog lifted! I looked at this beautiful little boy and fell madly in love. I was mortified at all the things I had said and thought during that horrible first month. But I was lucky. It was only a month. Some women aren't as fortunate.
About 3 months later, I joined a moms group. I was at one of the meetings and finally got the courage to talk a little bit about this to my small group. My leader (who was a more experienced mom with several kids) just laughed and said "Oh, I didn't have the TIME to get postpartum depression, life was so busy!". I sat there, feeling like I was a terrible mom and hadn't even really started yet. I was an imposter, at a table with "real moms".
I was careful about what I shared after that. I already felt like I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't need someone to confirm it!
But then something changed. As I became more comfortable and confident as a mom, I started sharing my story more. I started to understand that I had an ILLNESS. It wasn't something I chose. And of course you know what happened next. Women were coming out of the woodwork to share that they too had struggles and difficulties. I ended up having two friends who had more severe postpartum issues and I was able to understand and support them in a way I never could've had I not gone through that nightmare.
I'm not a bad mom. I'm not mom of the year. But I'm a pretty good mom and my kids love me. It's hard not to compare ourselves and judge ourselves. On the issue of postpartum depression, I've come to realize that it was just a piece of the puzzle that led me to creating this blog for myself (and maybe others).
Our journey is meant just for us but the sharing is for all.
And please--if you are experiencing mental health issues, know that you are not at fault. Reach out to a trusted person and ask for the help you deserve.
