Friday, July 13, 2012

I knew I Needed Help When...

As I went to appointments and talked to people during my pregnancy I was excited to talk about the new daughter that would be joining us. I bragged at how great of a baby the first one was and how she was going to be a great big sister. I was anxious for her to get here, to meet her and to see how complete our family would be once we could hold her and look into her little face. I remembered the amazement I felt looking at Amelia for the first time and the awe of knowing I created this person.

And then baby number two came along. She didn't like to sleep much-so annoying. And she ate constantly- can you please just give me a break for two seconds?! Thank god she was a pacifier baby because listening to her cry- nails on a chalk board. And you know what's really enough to set you over the edge? A two year old at your feet begging for attention while you're doing any of the aforementioned things. Sleep deprivation was doing me in. It was making me irritable and my patience was shot before the sun was even up.

I vented to a good friend of mine regularly and when the story didn't change she mentioned that she struggled with postpartum depression after her child was born and thought maybe I needed to talk to the midwifes. I listened to her tell me she wish she had talked to somebody about it and quickly wrote her off. Just because she had issues didn't mean that I did. I wasn't sad and crying all the time, I was tired and stressed out. I had two kids, clearly I just underestimated how hard it would be. But then every time something little would make me so irrationally angry I would think- Maybe there is something wrong with me. I never used to be an angry person. Maybe this second pregnancy made me crazy. I remember watching a show once where a lady was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after her pregnancy. Oh god, am I bipolar?! 

Ready to self-diagnose I googled bipolar disorder and postpartum depression. I read a bit and decided I wasn't bipolar and I wasn't sad so I determined I was just a mom. A mom who made a terrible decision having a second child because clearly it was too much work for me. I went on about my daily routine, dreading the days Andy would have to work and leave me alone with the girls, knowing that I would get absolutely nothing done because it was just too hard. 

One night, in an attempt to distract myself from my crying children (who were obviously never going to go to bed), I started browsing a couple blogs I liked. I clicked a link to a cute picture (since I really wanted to learn photography) and it took me to the funniest blog. I spent a good hour reading posts and cracking up laughing at the things this woman was writing. It was like she was in my head. The things that I would only talk freely about in front of a few close friends she was actually committing to writing. I clicked link after link laughing, even insisting Andy listen to a few posts because it sounded so much like things I would say. And then I clicked and started reading this post. I instantly went from laughter to tears as I realized that there was really something wrong with me and that it wasn't going to go away on its own. The sleeplessness wasn't just because of the baby waking up to eat, the constant anger wasn't just the 'new me' that came from being overwhelmed, the inability to get things done wasn't because of the amount of work of taking care of two children, and the anxiety and crazy thoughts of horrible things happening to my family weren't just new mom worries. I had postpartum depression.



Postpartum depression. I heard the term and saw the sign hanging in the bathroom at the midwives office a dozen time through out my pregnancy but never read much on the subject. Having been someone who had never experienced depression, I honestly thought it would never be something I needed to worry about. Truthfully, I was skeptical and a little judgemental when hearing someone talk about it. I would think, "Suck it up and deal. You aren't the first person to have a baby and it's not as hard as you're making it out to be." And that was even after having a child of my own. I can even remember having a midwife tell me I was a 'cheery person' and 'didn't seem like I would have any issues with depression' (given, this was during my pregnancy and she was not talking about postpartum.) Maybe if I would have read the symptoms in plain mama english I would have realized.

I clicked link after link trying to read as much as I could on the subject. I was heartbroken. I was heartbroken because I knew would have to reach out for help (which I found to be terrifying) and I was heartbroken because in that moment I began reflecting on the past few months and I realized just how much I was missing out on enjoying my children and how much of me I was unable to give them. I woke Andy up and told what I had read and what I was feeling (most of which he already knew, but didn't realize what I was going through) but his lack of knowledge on the subject made him less supportive than I needed so I text my friend as well. I promised her I was calling the midwives in the morning and talking to them about what was going on. I went to bed that night determined to change things.

When morning rolled around I had such terrible anxiety about calling and owning up to the things I had been feeling that I waited too late to call and got a voicemail. I was so relieved. As I thought through the things I would tell them I felt like a complete failure as a mother and like a weak person for not being able to fix things myself. I was scared and it took a couple tries until I worked up the courage to call and actually have the conversation with one of the midwives. It basically went like this:

Midwife, "Hi, Stephanie, how are you? What can I help you with today?"
Me, "Um well I'm 99.9% sure I have postpartum depression. (begin waterworks) I'm not sad all the time, I'm just crying now because I'm so upset, but I'm not myself. I am mad all the time, I can't sleep and I'm afraid something is wrong or going to go wrong all the time."
MW, "Are you not sleeping because the baby is getting up to feed?"
Me, "I'm getting up to feed her every three hours but then she either wakes right back up and I'm pissed off that I have to get up 2-3 times to get her stay down. Then it takes me an hour to calm down enough to sleep. Or there are the times I don't hear her so I'm convinced that something is wrong and can't sleep because I have to check on her and listen for her." 
MW,"Yep, that sounds like postpartum depression to me. A lot of how you're feeling has to do with sleep deprivation. The way you feel with sleep deprivation is often compared to psychosis. I think that if we can get you sleeping better at night that you will be feeling more like yourself in no time."
Me, "Um, yeah, that's pretty much how I would explain it. I need to do something. I knew I needed to call when I told my crying baby (who is easily pacified) 'can't you just shut up already?!' and my two year old corrected me telling, 'me that's not nice and that's not how we talk to each other.' And she's right, that's not how we talk to each other. That is not how I talk, especially not to my children. I guess it has just gotten worse and worse as time has gone on."
MW, "Usually by the time people reach out for help it has gotten bad. That is when they realize it isn't something they can fix on their own. You aren't the first person to have to deal with this and, unfortunately, you won't be the last. The good news with that is that we can do something about it."

After talking it through with the midwife and Andy I went and picked up my first prescription for Zoloft. After reading lots of information on breast feeding and medication I felt comfortable with my decision. (The reality was I would rather have switched to formula and been able to be myself and love on my baby than to breast feed and leave things as they were.)

I'm almost two months into the process of getting better. Not all days are perfect but slowly but surely I feel me getting back to myself. I knew that I was getting better when my baby woke up to feed for the umpteenth time and instead of cussing the whole way to the crib and impatiently waiting for her to finish eating, I sang softly to her as she nursed and held her close against my chest for a long time before I wanted to let go and let her rest. As I put myself back in bed I was followed in by a toddler- instead of yelling and demanding she go back to her bed, I lifted the covers and pulled her in close to me and fell asleep with her in my arms.

I am so thankful for the courage of the women who have shared their stories so that I could have an understanding of what I was experiencing and get help. I'm so very sad for the time I lost with my girls, but so grateful for all the time we will have together.

It's hard to even now to write about this subject and I haven't even told most people in my everyday life (If you are reading it here for the first time and you're someone I am close to, please don't take it personally. It just wasn't something I was ready to share.) however, I feel as though I need to share my story now because it was through the stories of other women who had gone through this that I got help.

If you think you are suffering from postpartum depression please talk to your doctor. It's okay to need help and to ask for it. My greatest regret is waiting as long as I did to talk to someone. There are also great resources online to help like these:
postpartumprogress.org
www.kansasppd.org

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