I don’t like to talk about it. It still scares me when I reflect closely on how I felt during those days, those weeks. It’s scary mostly because I thought I was ok. It’s a big reason I didn’t want to talk about having another baby until recently. I was so afraid to go through it again.
When Jordan was born 2 years earlier, I had lots to recover from. I knew I wasn’t ok. I was distraught by the whole experience of giving birth; the doctor telling me she was going to die f I didn’t do what he said; the relentless hospital staff who were more concerned with policy and procedure than my informed consent. When I felt kind of crappy, it seemed like a natural effect of obvious causes. New mom, insecure, lack of sleep, plus disempowered birth equals feeling crappy. And as time passed, so did feeling crappy.
But this? I couldn’t explain this at all.
My healthy, happy second pregnancy, with an amazing, peaceful planned homebirth. I was caught completely off-guard.
I cried every day. I felt like a failure; not just a plain-old failure- a miserable failure.
I cried myself to sleep, believing that I didn’t deserve to be a mom. How could I be a mother when I was so worthless? I couldn’t possibly love them like they deserved.
It went on like this in my head for a while. When my husband would try to console me, it made me feel even worse. Now I was making him feel bad. I was bringing him down. Now I thought I was a “bad” wife too. So I tried to hold it in, but it escaped anyway.
I didn’t tell my friends. I didn’t want them to know how unhappy I was. I was ashamed of how unhappy I was. I wanted to be a mom, a good mom. And being sad meant (in my mind) I was not a good mom. Especially since I thought that in some way, my sadness was about being a mom.
I denied there was any problem. I told myself I was simply adjusting to having a second child – everyone said it would be hard. And it was really, really hard. It was so hard that I started wishing I didn’t have a second child.
I started to believe the girls were better off without me. It took all my strength not to run away from home every day. But as I considered more seriously the possibility of leaving them, other strange thoughts began to enter. I couldn’t leave my girls to be motherless. I couldn’t leave them to grow up alone, without me.
So how could I run away from home and prevent them from being without me? This is where it started to get really scary.
I started to understand that I wasn’t really thinking about running away from home. I meant to kill myself. And now I was thinking about taking the girls with me. I started thinking about ways we could all 3 die at once. I never really understood I was considering killing my children until later.
All this took place in less than 6 weeks.
At my six-week check up with my midwife, she asked me, “How are you?” Maybe it was that other people had asked, How’s it going? or How are you sleeping? or How is Jordan adjusting? Or maybe I just didn’t hear anyone ask about me before then.
So I told her.
I told her everything- all of it. Even the parts I was ashamed of. Even the parts I pretended not to be thinking. Even the things that I thought made me a “bad” mother.
She listened. She hugged me.
I still didn’t think it was that bad. I felt better just having told her. I still thought it was just the adjustment from one child to two.
She called my doctor while I sat there. She made an appointment for me for the next day. She drove to my house to take me and watched my toddler while I visited with the doctor.
I felt kind of silly that so much attention was being paid to this. I still didn’t realize how messed up my thinking was, how serious things had gotten.
After my doctor listened to everything I had to say, she suggested a few options for treatment: anti-depressants, hormone therapy, counseling. I followed her advice. I took the pills, even though I don’t like taking medication. I got the blood workup done and took the hormones too. I talked to someone.
I also went to my acupuncturist regularly to get things back on track physically/energetically.
When I started feeling better, I suddenly realized how awful it had been. I felt like my self again and saw how far away I had traveled from the me I am used to.
And I realized that truly, at one time, I had meant to kill my children and myself. This is something that is still raw around the edges inside me. I now understand something I never wanted to know- how a woman (a mother!) could be so desperate she would do something so unbelievable.
My postpartum depression was diagnosed before the unthinkable happened. I am forever grateful to my midwife, doctor, husband, doula and friends for supporting me through this.
If you have experienced PPD, please leave a comment here on the blog.
If you are experiencing symptoms of Postpartum Depression (sadness, hopelessness, guilt, overwhelm, social withdrawal, becoming easily frustrated, increased anxiety) or if you think- even a little- about hurting yourself or your baby, contact your doctor, midwife or find resources online.
Don’t wait. (Maybe they’ll tell you it’s not that bad. Or maybe they’ll help you to start feeling better.)
You are not alone. I had PPD after my first child and after my third child. It is NOT easy.
I suffered PPD with both of my children (worse the first time around). It was the scariest time of my life. I dont keep up with my writing anymore, but I wrote some of the “safe” stuff on here http://raisingmacs.blogspot.com/ honestly there was so much more that went through my mind that I cant bring myself to say outloud.
I am glad you had such support. I did not.
I also wanted to take seriously the need for lifestyle changes and therapy before taking meds. Drs, mine anyway, really are not interested in helping you if you won’t take their medication.
I have overwhelming feelings of anxiety. I am not worried about hurting myself or my baby….my anxiety comes from worring that I can not protect her. She loves to go for walks in our stroller, but I am so scared of child molestors and rapist that I don’t even want to walk her by myself. I have even considered getting a gun to carry just so I would feel better walking in the neighborhood (which isn’t even bad). Anyways, thanks for sharing your story. It is comforting to know that I am not the only with PPD.
Wow! Dr. Punger sent me the link to this and boy was it exactly what I needed to read. I’m waaaay down in the dumps right now and at times I’m freaked out that I’m never going to get better. Now… I’m determined. Dr. Punger prescribed me something to help with my anxiety/ panic attacks but I still feel like a train wreck. I definitely need more help. Thanks for sharing your story.
Thanks for sharing these experiences and feelings.
You know you are not alone with this! I went through this with my third child it was horrible. I felt like the worst mother in the world. I was losing my temper with my other two children constantly, crying all the time and overwhelmed with life.
Sometimes, I think people forget to ask US how we are and what we NEED…and even if they did, I am not sure that it would have helped me!
My baby just turned 8, so I can say it will get better, love and take care of yourself and do the best you can to nurture your children, even if we don’t feel like we are doing the best thing, often we see something totally different.
Wishing you the best.
[…] The scary days – postpartum depression – If you are experiencing symptoms of Postpartum Depression (sadness, hopelessness, guilt, overwhelm, social withdrawal, becoming easily frustrated, increased anxiety) or if you think- even a little- about hurting yourself or your baby, … […]
I write about my PPD at http://www.atlantappdmom.blogspot.com. Hello, fellow Survivor Mama!
I am 16 months postpartum and am still in the recovery phase. I know how scary this illness can be. In the beginning, I suffered from such severe anxiety that I would experience derealization. The world looked fake to me and I would question if I was actually a real person. There were many times when I would have to call my husband at work and ask him if this was “really happening” and ask him if I was still in a dream.
When my OB sent me to the ER, I was so paranoid that him and my husband were plotting to steal my baby. I had a plan that i was going to run away…but my husband had stolen my car keys. I am so lucky that he did that because I was able to get the treatment that I needed.
It has been a very long and scary process, but I am getting better. I’m not there yet, but I will be. I am blogging about my experience with PPD at http://makemommygosomethingsomething.wordpress.com
You’re not alone in this. There are so many women out there who suffer this awful illness…and sometimes they do it in silence. You should be so proud of yourself for reaching out for help and being honest about your feelings. Telling someone how i felt was such a difficult thing to do.
Thank you for sharing your story.
My PPD wasn’t as severe as yours, but it was bad enough. And this was after a glorious birth! An intervention free birth with midwives I loved and a wonderful husband! Still. The days and weeks and even months after the birth were hard. Our baby didn’t sleep and I was somehow not good at asking for help. I think I felt like I didn’t deserve it. Somehow, slowly, things got better. I don’t think I realized how bad things had been until baby #2 when I felt fine, ecstatic actually. That more than anything convinced me that the first experience was not something I did or caused. It was some sort of physical sickness, for which I needed and deserved help.
Thank you for writing about this. I hope it helps women going through the same thing. I think it would have helped me.