Putting It Out There - PPD

I've been debating this post for a few months. It's not an easy one to write as it brings up feelings I like to bury and leave alone. It is also a topic on which it is hard to find real posts. When I first encountered post partum depression (PPD) with T, I remember telling a friend at a birthday party, "I just feel so guilty for having him."  Her response was, "Oh I get really overwhelmed with two kids as well." While being overwhelmed with kids might be one way to experience it, it was not a part of my emotional roller coaster. Her answer made me feel as if I was different and it made me uncomfortable bringing it up again.

Right around when T hit 6 weeks old the heaviness of his life hit me. If he's lucky he'll live a healthy life to a nice old age and then die. My sweet baby would die. That thought rocked my world. To the core. I couldn't function. I couldn't stop crying. I would go to bed having panic attacks. After admitting to my friend I felt guilty for having him and receiving her response about being overwhelmed, I stopped bringing it up. Only two people really knew what I went through day after day. 

It was hard to look at my parents aging. It was hard to picture my boys being grandparents. Multiple times Chris told me he was calling my OB for help, but he didn't. Honestly I could have used it. 

One day I broke down on the playground to my mom. In a lot of ways it felt as if I had lost my entire faith and I was floundering. We talked, visited the bookstore, and I felt better. Maybe not the same, but I needed to be different. Acknowledging my feelings, hearing how my mom felt, helped me work through my emotions.

 Around this time I decided it was important to explore my faith. When we moved to this city I visited quite a few churches but now it was time to go regularly and get my questions and doubts answered. I sat there with my sweet baby (while N was in Sunday School) and in a lot of ways it sounded as if our minister knew all the thoughts in my head (our children's minister would call that the Holy Spirit talking). Slowly the fog lifted.

Then T weaned and all the sudden the panic attacks and fears were back. This time my anxiety centered on my kids having to grow up without me. I played "what if" in my mind over and over. I convinced myself that something was wrong every night before bed. I visited my doctor just about once a week (in all fairness I was also getting mastitis weekly at this point). After about a month the haze cleared again. Much later (at a lactation consultant visit with KC) I learned my anxiety was most likely strongly linked to T weaning and a change in hormones. While he weaned, he also struggled with ear infections that would cause him to go back to nursing, so my body was in a constant limbo of production (and hormones) which lead to the constant mastitis, and my anxiety.

We had a plan once we knew KC was on the way. My OB offered up meds at any point (even the delivery room she said). I knew the signs (when you are in the throws of depression it is extremely hard to see the signs because they are a complete reality). I made it past the 6 week mark with KC and was doing great. My best friend checked in and I celebrated. Then at 10 weeks, out of the blue, it hit. KC was snoozing and her head positioning was exactly that of my grandmother's the last time I saw her. The big dark hole of sadness and despair swallowed me once more. For the same reasons.

With school starting back so did my school year commitments. One of these is the childhood education committee at church. Our children's minister oversees this group and after one meeting I asked if I could come talk to her. I couldn't even keep my head together to get the words out, the sobs just pushed their way through. We met for an hour a week later and I left feeling like a completely new person. It was like she performed magic through her words and suggestions and I felt armed and ready to tackle the emotions that were eating away at my precious time with my kids. Since that day everything changed. 

Do I still struggle? Yes. I cringe when my boys talk about death. I hate thinking about time. Does anxiety still hit me? Occasionally, especially at night, I will succumb to the dark thoughts in my head. Looking back at these pictures of my babies, I have mixed emotions. I love the photos but they also remind me of my struggle. The difference now is that I have tools to help keep me afloat. I have words, methods, and people to rely on because I decided to seek help. It didn't come from the first person I talked to, and it didn't come right away, but I have it. 

My point is if you are struggling with your feelings, please talk to someone. Seek out someone you trust, ask for help. It doesn't have to be a person of faith, that is just what worked for me. It isn't normal to feel guilt and sadness over a new life in the world. You can email me too. I have more to share (which I'm sure is shocking after this incredibly long post). As always thanks for listening.

Annie and Natalie