My name is Laura, and I have postpartum depression. I had my first child 8 days ago, and since then, things have gone a bit downhill.
My husband and I decided to start trying for a baby last September. We were pregnant in October. This in itself is a wonderful, miraculous thing as so many people have difficulty conceiving. The pregnancy was difficult... I felt nauseated for much of the 38 weeks and 3 days that I carried my son. I had instances of medium to heavy bleeding off and on culminating in a diagnosis of a hemorrhage in my placenta at about 20 weeks. In May, I spent a night in the hospital because of exposure to carbon monoxide and had increased blood pressure during my last month.
Throughout all of these things, the excitement remained. Feeling him kick was a wonderful thing every day. Knowing that even with all of the outside problems he was still strong and healthy made me feel like I was raising a warrior. We made plans for fitting him into our house and lives and we planned for a natural birth.
Then my water broke... or rather, started leaking. Because of being GBS positive, I had to go in to the hospital right away to start antibiotics. Even though my water broke, my body was not ready for labor- not effaced or dilated. Enter Cytotec. Followed by pitocin. With antibiotics every 4 hours. The Cytotec worked, but the pitocin wasn't because my body wasn't working with it.
I should mention that I have anxiety issues that I take medication for. When things started to feel out of control in the delivery room- baby's heart rate kept falling, I wasn't progressing, etc...- my anxiety spiked and I wasn't able to focus and calm myself. So, I had an epidural. And then fell asleep for about 45 min, during which I went from 2-8cm. 10 minutes after that, I was starting to push.
Baby boy came out with the cord wrapped around his neck, down his chest, and around his abdomen. He was pale and blue. He had meconium and fluid in his lungs, and his breathing rate was nearly twice as fast as it should have been. In the first hour of his life, he was on oxygen, had his lungs suctioned out, was given a chest x-ray, and had blood drawn to see if he had an infection.
This was nothing like the peaceful, natural childbirth I had hoped for. I was scared, terrified of losing him and then terrified of having to take care of him. Physically, I was alright. Sore and tired, but alright. But this little baby showed me in one hour how little control I had over him and over life in general.
Bouts of crying and anxiety hit me almost immediately. I know that this is somewhat normal right after birth, but mine always had more of an edge to them... something dangerous, it seemed. Something that wanted to pull me under. I was afraid to do anything with him and frustrated of not being able to make him do what I wanted. I began to think that we had made a mistake having him and started to resent him for changing my life so much. Coming home was not any easier. My mom and sister were there, and awesome support and help, but I still didn't feel right.
Each day, I felt like another darker person from the time I got up until the evening when I started to feel a little better. Lots of crying, lots of wondering why I was thinking things that I was thinking. My appetite disappeared completely and I ate and drank only because I knew that my son needed it for me to keep breastfeeding. On top of everything else, I felt completely alone and isolated because I was thinking these things that I felt a mother shouldn't. We got home on Saturday, and by Tuesday, my husband and I were concerned enough that we made an appointment to see my doctor.
I want to say that when I feel like myself, I love my son very much. I just want to love him and keep him safe and be there when he needs me. When I feel like that other person, I resent having to feed him and hold him and I just want him to sleep all the time. I feel guilty for not just being excited and happy to have him and I feel like a failure for not being able to deal with these feelings and emotions by myself. I'm not good with change, and my life feels like it has been turned upside-down. I have feelings and thoughts that are not me, but keep pushing their way into the front of my mind. I hate it. I hate it so much.
At my appointment on Wednesday, I felt grateful to the nurse and doctor because they were taking me seriously. We decided to increase my anxiety medicine and start seeing a counselor. I had a plan! Last night, though, I was taking a walk and I saw a truck backing up. I thought, "Why don't I just let that hit me?" This morning, I told my husband about it and we spent the next few hours in the emergency room.
Driving to the hospital was terrifying. I thought that I would be admitted and I wouldn't see my husband or baby for days. I wanted to be like, "It's just a misunderstanding, I'm fine." But I'm not. The doctor switched my medicine to one that works for depression and anxiety. It was suggested that I be admitted, but I thought that being in such a different environment would be worse for the anxiety, especially since I wouldn't be with my family. I was confident in that decision until I got home and now I keep going back and forth. Why? Because I question everything. Because I have no real ideas right now, just feelings and random thoughts. But I'm at home. My baby is sleeping, my husband is playing video games, and I'm writing. We're trying to establish some normalcy, while feeling like we're spinning and reeling all over the place. My mom tells me that the baby will fit into our lives, not the other way around. I want to believe this.
Yes, I knew a little about PPD before I delivered. Yes, I knew that I was at a higher risk for it because of my history with anxiety. But I didn't know that it would feel like it does- terrifying and isolating. I didn't know I would be fighting myself nearly every minute of the day over what I was feeling and if it was really me feeling it or not. I didn't know other people have felt this way, because no one ever told me. I've been pretty fortunate this past week- I reached out to a couple of friends and, surprisingly, they had felt (to some degree) the same things I am.
I'm lucky because my husband refuses to give up on me and our relationship. I feel so damaged and weak and I wish I could be more helpful to him, but he wants me to lean on him right now. He believes that I am strong and that we will come through this together.
Some people might think that I haven't given myself enough time to work through these "baby blues." It's only been 8 days, right? Wrong. PPD can begin anytime during the first year after the baby is born. For me, it came on sooner because my anxieties made me more vulnerable. I worry that people are going to judge me- think that I am crazy or that I should just deal with it.
I am dealing with it... but I don't want to hide it or keep it secret. At this point, it is the biggest thing in my life. I don't want it to be, but that's the reality. My plan is to just try and get through one day at a time. I pray that the new medicine works and works quickly, and that I benefit fully from counseling. I pray a lot. I just want to be myself again.
