post∙par∙tum de∙pres∙sion
noun.
depression suffered by a mother following childbirth, typically arising from the combination of hormonal changes, psychological adjustment to motherhood, and fatigue. (aka Hell).
Dear Postpartum Depression,
It's taken me over two years to gather my thoughts and truly piece together what I wanted to say to "you". I've known for quite some time that I need to address you, however, I can't ever seem to find the words. Today, I'm finding them. (To readers, consider this a trigger warning as I'm not necessarily sure what is going to come out of my fingertips).
Most people see being pregnant and having a child as the most beautiful experience in life. And it is. People get so crazed over the maternity photos, getting the baby's room ready, finding the cutest itty-bitty outfits and just looking forward to the day where they finally get to hold their baby. I don't blame them. However, nobody seems to talk about what happens after that baby is brought into this world. Not the doctors, not your parents, not your siblings, not your friends. Nobody. Not until you're too far consumed with PPD. And even so, only if someone notices or you address it first.
Roughly two years ago, I brought the most beautiful human being into this world. I had a very healthy pregnancy and a pretty smooth labor with a pretty turbulent delivery - (shout out to all you c-section mommas!) Leading up to the "big day", I wasn't very nervous and I was so excited knowing that I would soon be holding a baby girl. Had I known what potential was lurking in the dark corners, I may have been a little more nervous and more aware of my mental state.
I want to be perfectly clear that I no longer feel the way I did in the past. Do I have spouts of depression here and there? Absolutely, but don't we all? Anyways, the first two weeks being home with a newborn were rough. I felt like I wasn't getting much sleep, although I was getting far more than my partner as I was recovering from a c-section and he had his eyes glued on our co-sleeping baby. I didn't think much of the thoughts I was having because well, I was tired as all hell and it hurt to go to the bathroom. As days passed, the thoughts didn't go away, but even still, I was a new mom and no amount of planning could have prepared me for all that I went through.
You affected my mental and physical health, as well as my relationship with my fiance and daughter. You made me wish I was six feet under instead of here experiencing all of the "firsts" and new mommy things. Every day it felt like you were taking another piece of who I was and dangling it right in front of me. Tormenting me with my own goals, achievements, and quality of life. It took me months before I finally looked you in the face and said "enough". It took a lot of self-convincing and even more patience to realize what I had been going through. It also took a giant set of cahonies to express what I was feeling to my partner. I was ultimately just afraid I would be medicated to the point of being a complete zombie and brushed off like most patients claiming to be depressed.
At my six week appointment, my doctor had mentioned that PPD is something many women struggle with, but most times it goes away once you "get back into the swing of things". Did you know there is no such thing as "getting back into the swing of things" when you have a fresh from the womb child, a brand new job, and close to no money? Now you do. This monster of a disease is so easily brushed off by nurses, doctors, partners, and family. It's overlooked. Let me tell you something - "stress" does not cause you to think about all the different ways you could commit suicide. "Stress" does not cause you to contemplate which method would hurt those around you the least. "Fatigue" does not cause you to wish your baby had never been born nor does it cause you to sit in the corner of your child's nursery, holding them as tight as you can bawling and praying to God to make it stop. Postpartum depression, does.
PPD, I'm warning others about you. No mother should feel as though their child would be better off without them. No mother should feel like the most worthless piece of shit. No mother should question their ability to be a parent. No mother should be terrified to talk to their partner about what they are going through. No mother should wonder how things would be different without her. No mother should lay awake at night, already exhausted, thinking about how much worse tomorrow can be. No mother's love should be overshadowed by your darkness.
I am a mother. I am not PPD.
Sincerely,
The Mom Who Found The Words.
