My daughter was born on a typical fall day. Labor and Delivery, although somewhat long, was a great experience as were the first 2 weeks of her life. I was the doting and glowing new mom. I held her, cuddled with her, kissed her constantly. I loved changing her stinky poop diapers and I relished at her newborn screams. She was all mine. She gave me the title of “Mommy”.
After those 2 glorious weeks, I changed. I was a person I didn’t recognize. My daughter’s face with her plush cheeks now disgusted me. Her whimpers were like banshee calls. The never ending dependency broke me… plummeted me into a dark abyss so deep I am still amazed I ever got out of it. My new title should have been, “Depressive Anxiety Woman: Robotic in Nature, Dead in Emotion.” This all occurred in the span of a day. One morning I just woke up different. I woke up mean. I woke up full of hatred for this little being that needed me.
I didn’t get help right away. I was told it was “Baby Blues”. When the vomiting started a couple of days later, and the crying spells increased daily by 200%, I knew it had to be more. But, I was ashamed. I couldn’t admit I hated being a mother. I couldn’t admit I hated my child and wished every second I could turn back time. I couldn’t face the ugliness that was growing in my head. I didn’t want to face myself.
3 weeks after her birth, I started seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist. This was the first step to recovery but honestly it wasn’t enough. I was drowning more and more into the abyss of Postpartum Depression and Anxiety. The only good thing was I finally knew what I was suffering from. I now began planning my escape while under the care of medical professionals.
I would run away…
My plan was incomplete as I only figured the following details out… Leaving after my husband was off to work, Sophia was at my parents, I would withdraw money, get in the car and go…
That last important detail saved me from doing something stupid. Saved me from leaving the 2 most important people in my life. Saved me from myself.
1 month after my daughter’s birth, I admitted myself into my local hospital’s short term psych ward where I finally was given the tools (and medication) to save myself.
Okay, I’ve told my story over and over before… I know, where I am going with this?
If you have noticed in my story I continuously use the words “I” and “me”. I felt alone. I didn’t think there was anyone like me out there. All the mothers I knew at the time had never experienced this. If only I could interact with others that felt just like me! Knowing I wasn’t alone could’ve helped me in so many ways.
Postpartum Progress does this with their private monitored message boards.
Although I finally did get help, it was from psychiatrists and therapists that do not specialize in Postpartum Depression. I wonder what would’ve happened if I had access to a list of professionals that do.
Postpartum Progress has this.
My story above is a summation of what happened to me. Nowhere above do I mention what my suffering did to my family members… my loving husband, my parents, my sister and my in-laws. The amount of tears they wept, the amount of stress that was put on them, the hopelessness they felt because they couldn’t help me…
Postpartum Progress has support for them too!
In 10 days I will be Climbing Out Of The Darkness with my team to raise awareness for Perinatal Mood Disorders. This event is through Postpartum Progress (www.postpartumprogress.org). It 100% funds this organization. An organization I wish I found over 8 years ago…
Please consider clicking on the link below and donating to keep these message boards active, they keep these medical professional lists updated, they keep the support for new mothers and their families available.