How I Won the Battle Against Postpartum Depression
We are so honored to share birth stories on the Enriched Birth™ blog. Familiarizing our audience with birth and how differently it can be experienced by each birthing parent is something we care deeply about. We share these stories in their original form so that they reflect the feelings and voice of the authors. Sometimes birth is ecstatic, peaceful, positive, and joyful. Sometimes birth is painful, difficult, and disappointing. But birth is always raw, always incredible, and always personal.
Our goal as childbirth educators is to give expecting parents the information, tools, and resources to feel empowered and thereby have a more positive experience - even when their birth does not go as hoped. Birth can not be controlled, but as you’ll read in many of these stories, the availability of consistent support and informed decision making are such important aspects of a birth experience.
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Society is masterful at romanticizing pregnancy and childbirth, while simultaneously leaving little space for people to vocalize the reality of them both. They are hard.
Motherhood is a blessing of sacrifice, and though I would not trade my little people for the world – I must be honest when I say, in my case, the journey has left a lot to be desired. I would love a culture that gave mothers a safe space to be affected by emotions that defy logic because they exist. And I believe a part of being a great mother is admitting that mommy burnout is real, and mommy regret is real, and mommy depression is real.
I battled with despair when my son was born – my son is my second child. Looking back, I now realize I endured severe postpartum depression (PPD), which came as a result of both a hormonal imbalance and spending time isolated in my emotions.
Where were the mommy clubs that allowed me to admit I could not bond with the child I planned? Where were the mommy groups that allowed me to admit that as I looked in the face of a small version of me, I questioned if it was all worth it? By it I meant the edema, nausea, pain, labor, … and coupled with the new baby, I also welcomed a big black dog, named Depression.
Why did the love I felt when my daughter was born come so naturally but not-so-naturally for my son? I felt so guilty.
Before my son, I had been a single mother of a little girl for four years. Her father and I were not together. We didn’t hate each other, we just hardly ever spoke, and I was at complete peace with that. For four years, it was me and her against the world – I had gotten my body back in great shape, we took mother/daughter road trips once a month, we loved our adorable, 900 square foot, two-bedroom apartment just twenty minutes away from my family. I worked full time with a decent salary. We lived a modest life where I was able to afford a monthly wine subscription, a cute 2010 Black Toyota Corolla, and was slowly building a savings account.
Further, I enjoyed an active social life because my daughter spent a weekend a month with my parents. She also maintained a relationship with her father. So, sure I was a “single” mother, but I had a strong village of support. I was happy.
Ironically, I became more of a single mother after I married a United States Marine Corps (USMC) war veteran in the intelligence field who suffered from severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The description of him may sound a little intimidating but he was a nice guy, life was great, and we conceived our beautiful son immediately following our wedding. We were living the American dream, and we made being a blended family look easy. Financial security, a beautiful 4-bedroom house, paid off cars, and plenty of food in the fridge.
People PRAY for this, right?
Our initial excitement that came as a result of my positive pregnancy test quickly turned sour because my pregnancy changed me. I was a grouch. The first 20 weeks, I spent crying and snapping at my husband for little things that felt big at the time. The second 20 weeks I spent alone. My husband announced he had a job offer when I was 22 weeks pregnant that he simply could not refuse – it was overseas. He explained the position would grant him the opportunity to send more money home, and since my depression interfered with my work and I had abruptly quit, this would give us the wiggle room to maintain our lifestyles. I agreed. Deep down, I wanted him to go. I wanted my space away from him. I was angry that he didn’t understand me. He didn’t understand my mood swings, which were so erratic that I would wake up some mornings and burst into tears for no rhyme nor reason. He didn’t understand why I no longer liked going to our favorite restaurant, where foods that were once my preferences now made me throw up at the smell of them. He just didn’t understand anything about me anymore. Hell, I didn’t understand me either, so I wanted him to go.
The situation became more complicated because when he left, I became bitter towards him. My husband could not win with me.
I spent a lot of time alone with my daughter for the remainder of my pregnancy. I was emotionally depleted, but my pregnancy was seemingly smooth. My delivery was quick, easy, and with no complications. Since the whole process went exactly how it was supposed to go, grappling with my depression was lonely.
I gave birth via zoom so he could witness the special moment. All my family and loved ones were there. I received cards and flowers and gifts. My husband sent me a beautiful pandora bracelet for my push present, like I said – everything went well. But once I left the hospital, those zoom calls decreased and I mothered two children alone for the first year before he returned. My parents took on a different mentality when my son was born. I was obviously in a “better” place in life at this time because I was married, with a house, and money…I didn’t “need” the support of my village anymore. At least not “a weekend a month” type of support.
The support I had when my daughter was born, I did not have when my son was born. I slept many nights with my son and daughter in the same bed with me while I nursed my son to sleep and allowed my daughter to watch cartoons on her tablet. When my husband returned from his overseas assignment, he slipped into a PTSD episode and I, a PPD episode. (Yes, my PPD spanned for about two years) Episodes look different for different people, but for us – it manifested into cold shoulders, silence, and isolation. We were strangers to each other attempting to provide a healthy environment for our children and it didn’t work out until one of us decided we were tired of living through this gloomy storm, and it was time to fight back. I became proactive.
The onset of PPD can be scary especially for individuals who had never experienced depression before – I was one of them. Something was indeed wrong, and I was going to figure it out. I started my journey back to health with the steps below:
Therapy
A therapist will help you map out your thoughts. Sometimes your feelings are not reality. It's OK to feel but be accountable in how you respond to them.
Medication. Medication is not your enemy. If you are battling with a psychological imbalance, medicine can help. But do not go to just any doctor, go to one who specializes in mental health. And Do not stop there either…educate yourself on your prescriptions so you can be aware of potential side effects.
Honesty
Post-Partum depression is nothing to be ashamed of. Be honest about it. Tell people about it. NORMALIZE it. Honesty can save your life and many others who dare not speak their experiences aloud.
Movement
I know, I know…annoying! Exercise can be intimidating, especially for a woman who just had a baby. But I promise this works. I’m not talking about High-Intensity Interval Training. Do something simple, like walking. Lightly stretch. Turn on a Beginner’s Yoga video on YouTube and try that. Movement is so healing to your mind.
My husband and I eventually divorced, but not because of my postpartum. I won the war with PPD by utilizing the above tips. I got into the best shape of my life; I even got a six-pack! (Although, of course, postpartum healing and feeling good about yourself and your health look different for everyone!) I started bonding with my son on a level only a mommy and son could have. He is my favorite guy in the world now. The big Black dog, Depression? I began to TRAIN him, and he listened to MY commands when I told him he will not control me. They say a woman quickly forgets about the pain of labor – that may be true. But from my experience, I will never be able to forget is how bad my depression became afterward. The onset of my mental illness scared me, and it impacted my ability to maintain relationships and effectively take care of my babies. I’m grateful for having a support system that noticed the changes within me and wouldn’t allow me to fail. If you find yourself changing during or after your pregnancy, know you’re not alone. There is help available, use the help.
You can find more blogs on astrology, current events, politics, and motherhood, written by Seneca Malone, MA at www.denise-writes.com