Posted by: femmeworld on: July 23, 2009
As a new blogger and member of WordPress, I would like to dedicate my first post to an issue that I feel very strongly about. I’ve searched long and hard for a way to express my feelings and concerns about it, and now I’ve finally found a way. The issue is postpartum depression, commonly incorrectly referred to as “baby blues.” I am writing my story for any woman out there that may be having the same experience. This is my way of reaching out to any new mom who can relate to the story, and reassuring her that it will be okay and it will get better.
Many people, and more importantly, many new parents, do not know what postpartum depression is or how common it is. In fact, most people confuse this very serious mental state with “baby blues.”
DEFINING THE TERMS & EXPLAINING THE DIFFERENCE
The period right after childbirth brings many new feelings and sensations. Medical experts have found that up to 85% of women experience some kind of mood change during this post-delivery period.
Baby blues occur in about HALF of women who have recently become new mothers. They are a normal and passing state of increased emotions and sensitivity. The blues tend to peak anywhere between 3-7 days after childbirth and usually subside within 3 weeks. During this time the new mother is sad, irritable, moody, and may cry or have trouble sleeping. These symptoms are common and expected.
In about 10-20% of women, the psychological state develops into postpartum depression – a more serious form of baby blues. When the sadness and irritability persist even after 3 weeks, this is usually considered to be post-partum depression. The depression may last up to a few months. In this case the woman is tearful, unable to enjoy herself or the baby in some cases, tired, feels lonely or regretful, and sometimes even suicidal.
The most severe cases of postpartum depression develop into what is called “post-partum psychosis,” and while it is a rare occurrence, it is an extremely serious one as well. Mothers that reach this level of depression need to be treated immediately as they are much more likely to harm their baby or themselves. Previous mental illnesses and/or depression are associated with this dangerous disorder. These unfortunate women become delusional and may hallucinate, seeing things that aren’t there. Some cases result in tragic events like suicide or murder of the baby.
A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE
I wasn’t ready for a baby, as not many young women are at my age. I had just graduated from college and was looking to start my career. Living with my boyfriend and several of our friends, I hadn’t ever even given motherhood a thought. When my period was 2 weeks late I started to worry but figured it was just my hormones going crazy from the stress of a new job and not so happy relationship. I finally decided to take a home pregnancy test and when the second blue stripe appeared indicating I was indeed pregnant, I panicked! I ran out of the bathroom practically in tears screaming at my boyfriend to go buy more tests. After the third test came up positive, and confirmed the unthinkable, I started to cry. My boyfriend was shocked, but didn’t seem quite as upset as I was. He said we’d talk about it in the morning and went to bed. I, on the other hand, didn’t sleep all night. I couldn’t believe I had a life growing inside me – a life I knew I wasn’t ready to bring up but wasn’t so sure I could end.
We didn’t really give abortion that much consideration. We talked about it, and both agreed that with the baby alive at less than 3 weeks, this would literally mean ending a little person, a little life we unintentionally created. I couldn’t even imagine the regret I would be faced with one day if I didn’t have the baby, or the feeling of purposely losing a tiny little part of me. Our parents were excited about having a grandchild, and while we weren’t sure how our unstable relationship would play out over time, we knew we wanted to give it a try and have the baby after all.
I grew more and more excited about the baby as the days went by and my belly grew. The more I thought about what my child would look like, the happier I was about our decision to keep him. My boyfriend and I were both really excited to find out we were having a boy. We immediately started picking out names. All of those initial fears I had when I found out about the pregnancy were now gone and I was enjoying the experience.
Every now and then I would think about the fact that this baby would mean the end of my partying days. It would occupy my time completely and change my life in a way I couldn’t yet comprehend. I knew I was going to have to make huge sacrifices, but I figured it was worth it. The idea of a cute little baby seemed so comforting. I felt like it would bring my boyfriend and I together as parents, and as a couple. I thought at time, that the baby would solve some of our problems. “It can’t be THAT hard,” I always thought. I didn’t know at the time, just how serious and hard motherhood would turn out to be.
Our relationship sank deeper into trouble. We had a lot of unresolved issues and unsolved problems. But with my boyfriend working all day and sleeping all night, the chances of fixing things between us were rare. We argued on a regular basis, never solving anything, and as I shed more and more tears I began to wonder what our future with a child really looked like. I couldn’t imagine us living separate lives with a child in the middle. It finally occurred to me that maybe I had made a mistake. Our child’s life was doomed if we didn’t mend things soon.
As my expected delivery date neared, I became anxious and panicky. I worried about the labor and the baby, but also about our relationship as we were coming close to becoming real parents. I thought more and more about the sacrifices I was soon going to have to make and that quite possibly my biggest sacrifice might have to be staying in a relationship which wasn’t functioning just for the sake of my baby’s well-being. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, at least for the first few months, and I knew I didn’t want my child to be away from his father, whatever it would take.
“Labor” day finally came. After 15 hours of unimaginable pain and complications, we finally met our little baby boy. I was happy, scared, excited, shocked, and probably a few other words could describe what I was feeling at that moment. My boyfriend was unexpectedly VERY supportive! He was next to my bed, holding my hand the entire time, telling me not to worry and that he loved me. The whole experience was wonderful and emotional, and the cherry on top was that it finally brought my boyfriend and I together in a way I couldn’t have imagined. I felt closer to him than ever before, and needed him more than anyone else in the world.
The three days we spent in the hospital were a nice bonding experience for the three of us. I didn’t even know how to hold the baby properly let alone change his diaper or dress him. But the nurses were so supportive and kind, they did all of those things for me and even came in to check on us while we slept. I felt so safe and secure with that red nurse’s remote by my bed. Anything I needed was a push of a button away. Everyone seemed to understand that I was not only new at all of this, but clumsy and scared as well.
The comfort of having a professional’s help nearby disappeared the moment we walked into our apartment. My mother left that same night after having a terrible fight with my boyfriend. In tears again, I was left to care for the newborn by myself. With my mother not around and not willing to come over, and my boyfriend back at work the next day, I was devastated. I was all alone with a crying, pooping little baby for 12 continuous hours every day. Every other day my boyfriend would be gone for 48 hours on a trip to San Francisco and back. We were on the phone 24/7 and he was really there for me emotionally, but when I needed baby bottles (which we hadn’t prepared before the birth) and more formula, I couldn’t just leave the baby alone and go to the store. The depression kicked in quickly, and were it not for my best friend’s constant help and support, I might have started thinking about suicide at some point. She ran to the store for me, she brought me food, she brought me diapers, she sat with me for hours watching me cry and listening to my problems and fears. She would do my dishes and watch the baby so I could take a shower. But in the evening, when she would leave to go out with all our mutual friends, I would lay in bed sobbing and waiting for the little guy to start crying for his next feeding, wishing I could run away from it all. I kept thinking, I’m only 24 years old and have done nothing with my life yet, I should be out enjoying my youth and doing something with my life. Instead, I’m locked up in this apartment with a baby. Before the pregnancy, I was sexy and beautiful, I had a great flat tummy, a perfect butt, and great legs. Now I was flabby and fat, and 30 pounds heavier. The mirror was my worst enemy. How the hell did I let this happen?!
At our son’s 2-week checkup we were required to fill out a questionnaire about the baby and our care-taking habits. One of the questions asked if I as the mother often felt depressed or “blue”. Excited about the opportunity to get some insight, I checked off the YES box and hoped the doctor would bring this up at the visit since I was too embarrassed to mention it on my own. But he didn’t, and I didn’t get any help. At the 4-week checkup I answered the same question with a YES and even circled it this time, again hoping the issue would be addressed. And yet again the pediatrician ignored my small cry for help.
I was drowning in my own tears every day. Everything upset me and irritated the hell out of me. Even the things I enjoyed in the past were now causing me to break down and cry. The carefree life I had led before the baby was the only thing I wanted. I wanted my freedom back! I wanted my body back! I wanted my friends back! The way I saw it – this baby took EVERYTHING from me! And here he was crying and whining all day. I loved him so much and he was so adorable, but at the same time I wished he would just somehow go away. I wished there was some way I could go back in time and give myself birth control. What an idiot!!! Why didn’t I ever use birth control?! I’m so stupid!!! How could I have been so stupid!? I hated myself, and I hated my life.
My best friend walked in one day and found me crouched in the corner of the living room, hysterical. The baby was in the middle of the room in a bassinet, hysterical as well. He had been crying for a half an hour and I didn’t know how to soothe him anymore. My friend finally said, “You need to get help.” That night, my boyfriend asked if I ever had thoughts about hurting the baby. I said I didn’t, but really, sometimes I did. I knew he couldn’t understand me, and I knew I would never act on these thoughts, so I thought it was best to keep it to myself. I never told anyone about the crazy ideas I had. I would imagine abandoning him somewhere, or dropping him from the balcony, and then the picture of it would scare me and I would run over and grab him and just hug him until I could calm myself down. I’d like to make it clear that I never hurt or neglected my child in any way. I very much loved my son the whole time I was going through all of this. This made it even harder for everyone around me to understand why I was in such pain. They could all see how much I cared about the baby, yet I was falling apart over my new role as a mother.
So, what was causing me to be in such turmoil then? There had to be a reason for all of it. Was it the hormone levels changing? Was it the consequence of a tearful 9-month pregnancy? Could it be all the stress from my relationship with my boyfriend and mother finally taking its toll on me? What was wrong with me? Was I crazy? Why couldn’t I just be happy? I remembered watching a documentary on the Discovery channel some time during my pregnancy, about a woman in America who drowned her newborn baby and left it in a nearby lake. She was tried and found guilty of murder but was placed in a hospital as the jury believed she was suffering from post-partum psychosis. I remembered thinking “OMIGOD, how does this happen to someone? She must have been mentally sick. This could never happen to me!” While my situation was nowhere near that serious, I realized that this can indeed happen to anyone and that it was happening to ME on a lower level.
I started researching the internet and looking at medical websites online. After reading tons of articles and gathering information, I ruled out baby blues – it was beyond that at the time, baby blues go away in about 3 weeks and I was already in the third month. I discovered I was probably suffering from post-partum depression. But, I was always perfectly healthy; the worst medical condition I had ever suffered from was tonsilitis. Antibiotics were the ONLY pills I had ever taken in my life and only when the doctor would state they were mandatory. I didn’t have a history of depression or any other disorder, and my family’s medical history only includes cancer. No one I even knew had any mental problems, so how in the world could this strike ME!? Yes, it can happen to ANY WOMAN!
Now that I was self-diagnosed and knew what I was living with, I felt a little bit saner, but I needed support. Sure, my boyfriend and best friend were there to help me out. Even my mother had overcome the fact that her son-in-law isn’t perfect, and she was coming over to help me out and be with me and her first grandson. But I needed REAL help, from someone who had lived through this nightmare and woken up from it. I wanted someone to tell me I was going to be okay and really mean it because they’ve been the victim of it and beat it. Surely, I thought, there must be a helpline or nurse’s hotline I could contact for some over-the-phone advice. Hours of googling revealed nothing. An online forum seemed like the next best solution.
I posted a pretty lenghty message on a “mothers and babies” online discussion board, creating a new topic and naming it “baby blues or something more?” I chose to post my topic on a very popular Serbian website, mainly because I too am Serbian, but also because I thought these mothers from a war-torn and economically unstable society would be able to relate far more and give me better feedback. My post described what I was feeling, what I was thinking, and included every minor detail about my angst. It was hard to write about my pain and open up to an audience of strangers, but I felt it was the right thing to do at the moment and I was truly hoping to get some answers and understanding. Within 6 hours my message received over a hundred responses and the website moderators moved the topic to the top of the page where the “biggest issues” are singled out. I was thrilled and surprised to see that the theme was getting so much attention. But to my horror, these were not replies of advice or sympathy, these were replies of disgust and criticism.
My fellow gender was completely bashing on me. Women were cursing me and saying I was a bad mother. “How can you not be happy about a baby? That’s YOUR child! You should be ashamed of yourself!” one of the messages read. One lady even went so far as to say I didn’t deserve the child and that my boyfriend ought to contact social services. Completely shocked and feeling worse than ever before, I continued to read the replies and worry that in fact I was a bad mother and that it was my fault I was depressed. All of these other mommies had wonderful experiences and were enjoying their little lovebugs, and here I was dwelling over mine. They didn’t seem to understand that I wanted to be happy like them; I didn’t want to feel the way I did. What hurt the most was that I had been totally open and honest with these ladies, which I can’t say was an easy thing to do. Now I was both ashamed of my depression, and of the fact that I talked about it. I had never been that embarrassed before in my entire life.
However, the next morning, I received an e-mail from someone who had read my discussion post on the website. Assuming it was just another perfect mother pointing her finger at me, I almost deleted it. Until the words “I UNDERSTAND HOW YOU FEEL” hit me from the subject line. The e-mail was from a young mother living in Canada who was going through the same hell I was. Her symptoms were identical, and to top it off her parents (living in Serbia, across the world) were barely in contact with her. We bonded from that very first e-mail. She told me not to worry and to ignore all of those ugly things women had said to me at the discussion board. “They’re liars if they say they never once felt unhappy after having their babies. I don’t believe any of those women who responded had the fairy tale life they expressed online. That’s only in the movies,” she wrote me. She concluded her e-mail with this: “You should be proud that you were honest enough to talk about something that’s apparently so taboo in our country. They should all pat you on the back for not being afraid to tell the truth.”
We exchanged e-mails and chatted online a few times a week, and we made it through our depressions just fine. It’s amazing how much better you feel when you know you’re not alone and you’re not the only one. Soon, our chats shifted from complaining and agonizing to upbeat and hopeful. We started looking forward to the future with our kids rather than dwelling over the funfilled past we left behind when we became mothers. The more we talked, the more we realized we could have fun with our kids as well, and that just because we were full-time moms now, didn’t mean we couldn’t have an occasional night out with our friends.
I had my mom babysit my son one night while my boyfriend and I went to a friend’s party. I had fun and enjoyed myself, and enjoyed the chance to be worry-free and relaxed for change. At one point during the night I realized I couldn’t wait to come home and see my little bunny (our nickname for him). Not only was I having a good time, but as an added bonus I had something to look forward to at the end of the night! Coming home, kissing him goodnight and putting him to bed made my night complete.
It took some time, but I was able to “cure” myself and get on with my life. The moral support from a woman I might never meet face to face helped me overcome an ongoing problem I had never had before. It wasn’t professional help, but it was enough for me just knowing that she felt what I felt and understood me on a personal level. My relationship with my son bloomed as I began feeling more normal and the mood swings disappeared. When I finally started enjoying my child the way every mother should, I learned how delightful and fulfilling parenthood really is. I loved every moment, and as each day brought something new and the experiences with him grew more interesting, I only loved him more every second of the way. The feelings of incompetence and guilt disappeared, and I no longer had any regrets or sadness. Finally, I was happy about being a mom!
My boyfriend and I really grew as a couple over the next few months. An emotionally stable woman can make anything work. I can’t say our relationship is perfect or that we don’t have occasional fights and disagreements, but I think that’s perfectly normal. No one is perfect and nothing in life is perfect. What’s important is that we finally figured out some of our differences and are working on bettering ourselves and our relationship together. I look forward to our future together as a couple, as parents and as a family.
We celebrated my son’s first birthday with lots of friends and family, and a new baby on the way! We found out I was pregnant again when my son was only 7 months old. But this time we were really excited. It was an entirely different experience – a very happy one! We all knew what to expect and what was expected of us. But what I personally didn’t know is whether it was going to happen again…was I going to have to face another round of postpartum depression?
With my son just starting to walk, things were getting hectic so I didn’t have much time to think and worry about the aftermath of baby number 2. I got an easy part-time job to get me out of the house a bit and help me “relax” and keep my mind off the worrying. But every night I’d fall asleep with the same thought in my head, “what if it happens again?”
The contractions started while I was at work on a rainy Friday afternoon. My boss and husband came as soon as they could, the first to take over my shift, and the second to get me to the hospital and become Daddy a second time. Just as the labor pains were getting unbearable and I was preparing myself to “push”, an earthquake struck and shook the whole room! Fifteen minutes later, I was looking at my beautiful baby boy and savoring every second of it.
Everything was different with my second baby. I had all the support I needed and then some! My mother was staying with us, my mother-in-law was staying with us, my boyfriend wasn’t working too much, and even my older son was as helpful as he could be. I was smothered with love and affection, and I didn’t have to do anything! Both grandmothers did most of the work for me, so I had all the time in the world to spend with my adorable little man. I was happy and glowing. Every little detail was easier and more enjoyable. And it only got better and easier as the days went by. I truly couldn’t have been happier.
I worry now that my older son somehow remembers those first months when I didn’t cuddle with him or sing to him or do any of the things I now enjoy doing with my younger baby. He missed out on that initial bonding experience a newborn baby needs to have with its loving mother. Sometimes I watch him while he sleeps and wish I could do it all over with him from that first day when he was born. There’s no way to compensate for it now except to love him and show him how much I do. I wonder if it will negatively affect him in any way down the road. While he’s not jealous of his little brother, I feel terribly guilty every time I’m cuddling with the new baby, because it reminds of all those times I didn’t cuddle with my first baby. Sometimes I feel like he knows I’m more affectionate with his little brother than I was with him, and I often avoid giving the little baby attention while my older son is around. I only hope that I didn’t scar him for life.
I don’t regret the post I made on the discussion board; in fact, I’m glad I received all those cruel responses, because it taught me that the issue is totally taboo where I come from. There must be other women in my country who are afraid to talk about their post-partum depression as well and these women obviously have no access to help or support. Serbia cannot be the nation of perfectly happy mothers, it’s impossible. I hope I can somehow help these women one day and have given a lot of thought to establishing some kind of website for new moms in Serbia.
For now, though, my concentration and time is dedicated mainly to my lovely sons. Helping other women overcome postpartum depression will remain my passion and mission but mostly as a hobby. I would like all soon-to-be-moms to know that help is available and there’s no shame in asking for it. Talking to someone about your problems can really help. And remember that you are not the only one and that there are plenty of women out there who can related to you and give you some great advice – I’m just one of them.
