My Journey with Postpartum Depression
This story starts with me curled up in a ball crying in the hallway of my parent's house at 4am. My husband next to me telling me “we will find a solution” and “it’ll be okay.” His words were soothing even if I didn’t believe them to be true. We had gone to sleep over at my parents house in hopes that the change of scenery and extra help would make it a bit easier but, in the end, it didn’t.
I suppose this moment was the breaking point, not where the story actually starts. Prior to this, there were many other instances when I was lying on the floor crying, panicking and feeling like the world was over. I was 3 months postpartum and I was falling apart because I had developed insomnia. I would go 3+ days having only slept a few hours, unable to nap during the day. I couldn’t fall asleep at night no matter how hard I tried. The pressure of having to care for my baby the next day on no sleep and having to nurse her every few hours was too much to bear. The fear was crippling and the anxiety endless.
They say when you have a newborn that you won’t sleep. But this was different. The “won’t" turned into “can’t”, even when I had the time to sleep, even when I had someone else watching the baby.
I had already tried to find help. My PCP prescribed me an SSRI as a long term solution. These types of medication typically take weeks to work and longer to figure out the correct dosage so it wasn’t a solution for now. I had tried to make an appointment with a psychologist at the hospital where I delivered, but played phone tag for days only to be told “we don’t have that here.” I just felt so completely lost and unsure of where to turn. Most medication cannot be taken while breastfeeding so I really didn’t know or understand my options. I also didn’t want to give up breastfeeding. I truly cherished these special moments with my baby and would always regret giving it up too soon. I didn’t have weeks to wait for a solution. I needed sleep ASAP.
Thankfully, my amazing support system urgently snapped into action, lead by my incredible husband. My mother took the baby for the day so I could try to sleep without pressure. My husband made several phone calls until he found the right people for me to see - the psychiatrist at a women’s collaborative through my network and a midwife from my midwife group. My sister in law (an NP) prescribed me safe sleeping medication for a few nights until I had my appointments. My mother-in-law made us dinner for the week. My sister found me a therapist. I was in awe of the amount of support I received and still do, when many mothers struggle similarly without this team. Even still, it was still so difficult to find out how and where to get help. This is certainly a gap in the healthcare system and women’s medicine. Many doctors are afraid to prescribe medication to breastfeeding women so we are left with confusion and lack of direction. The postpartum period is incredibly difficult and mothers need help advocating for themselves because the healthcare system makes it impossibly difficult to seek proper care for mental crises.
After visiting with a doctor, I was diagnosed, unsurprisingly, with postpartum depression (and also very high thyroid levels). I was experiencing anxiety so I thought this ruled me out, but apparently this is one way it can show up. I’ve had depressive episodes in my life before but never took medication. I suppose I’ve always been a somewhat anxious person and it does run in my family history, but nothing prepared me for this. Every time I talked to a doctor or receptionist they told me to go to Urgent Care or the ER because they were afraid I’d hurt myself or the baby. Although this is definitely a legitimate fear with some new mothers, it wasn’t my situation at all and no one was really listening to me. 1) I felt a very deep connection and bond with my baby and love her to my core. I could never conceive of hurting her. 2) I didn’t want to hurt myself because I could see happiness in the future and looked forward to watching my baby and marriage grow. 3) I couldn’t drive to Urgent Care on 0 sleep and 4) I was only afraid of hurting the baby because I made a mistake from lack of sleep like tripping or dropping. The lack of voice I felt I had was scary and my husband felt the same way. Caleb wasn’t allowed to speak on my behalf to anyone and was even told by my OBGYN group that they don’t handle women three months postpartum. Which is ironic, because three month PP is the peak time for postpartum depression to occur.
I don’t have a definitive end to this story yet and I suppose I never will. However, I have a strong plan in place that is working, thank Gd. With mental health, it’s not about finding the end. It’s about getting to the next chapter in a better place than the previous one.
I am so lucky for my amazing support system and the doctors that are now caring for me. But June and July are among some of the darkest months of my life. I’ve felt fear, guilt, shame, and sadness like never before. Fear of what could happen if I couldn’t find help. Guilt for not being as present as I should be with my baby. Shame for feeling so broken even when I have such incredible support, and taking for granted my beautiful baby when so many others are experiencing infertility and grief. And sadness for the hours I missed with my daughter when I was too tired to be fully present. It’s a tangle of emotions, but I suppose that’s what postpartum is. I am over the bend, but still have more to navigate.
When I was pregnant, I was told my many things. I was told I would never sleep again. I was told that everything would be about the baby and I would be forgotten. I was told that healing should only take 6 weeks. These well meaning “warnings” fed my anxiety before I even gave birth. No one told me that my daughters first smile would fill my heart with immense joy or that seeing her kick in the tub (or even a video of it) would make my day.
I share this story in the hopes of bringing awareness to a shadowed topic that needs to see the light of day. I share this story in the hopes that I can heal my own negative thinking and show others that they are not alone. I share this story to open up a discussion about the postpartum stage. I know that the fear, guilt, shame, and sadness are normal, valid emotions and that by allowing myself to feel them, I am also working through them.
Self-care isn’t always just bubble baths and face masks, and good health isn’t just eating greens and running. More often than not it’s getting the help you need from your support system, therapy, possible medication, and learning to conquer your fears head on. It’s hard work but women, mothers especially, are warriors. I am working through this for myself, my baby, and my family; I can and I will.