Fair warning; this isn't going to be a super happy post. If you know this story and don't want to relive it with me, I won't judge you for skipping this blog post. ;)
And it's gonna be long so just bare with me if you do decide to read it....
This week is Maternal Mental Health Week and it means a ton to me. And I bet there is a momma out there who needs to know that how she is feeling is okay and also needs to know that it is okay to ask for help.
Let's take it way back to 2012. This is when I had my first child.
I know now that I suffered from at least a minor case of postpartum depression. I didn't realize it at the time and thought everything was just my hormones going back to normal and me just adjusting to this new time in life. I cried and got upset easily and had a hard time leaving the house without my son. I actually remember being invited to a dinner one time and cancelling because my husband wasn't home from work and I didn't want the stress of taking care of my child to make my dinner out with friends miserable. Luckily, I had awesome friends who didn't take no for an answer. They showed up to my apartment, took care of my son while I finished getting ready and made sure I had an awesome time at dinner!
The short period of what I now know was postpartum depression passed quickly and left no damage, luckily.
And then 2016 happened. I gave birth to my second child, my daughter.
I was so happy to be having another child and I was so excited to see my son become a great big brother (he had only been asking for a baby for a couple years at this point). My joy didn't stop postpartum depression from showing up with a vengeance.
My husband saw the signs and tried to get me help early on, but I just brushed his concern aside and said that it was normal baby blues and my hormones adjusting. Also, I told him that it was just harder this time because I also had a toddler to take care of. These aren't exactly false; there was just more to it than that.
When my daughter was 6 weeks old, my husband had to travel for work. It was a stressful week because the date of his departure kept changing and we wound up finding out about 4 hours before he needed to leave that he would be leaving that day. Of course, I had been putting off grocery shopping and all that fun stuff so the stress of trying to get that done before he left started to take its toll on me immediately. I wound up getting enough food to keep us eating for about a week and got him dropped off for his trip.
I cried so hard that I made myself sick. I am used to crying when he has to be away from us for any amount of days (yep, I cry when he's only gone for a couple days...I'm just that way), but the making myself sick was new. I reached out to a friend and became upset when she suggested I might actually need medical help. She backed off the medical help ledge for the night and invited me over to hang out the next day.
Well, the next morning came and my children did not want to cooperate. I think my daughter had two blowout diapers (the worst) and spit up a bunch too. My first thought was to cancel on her, but I decided to just head over there anyway.
And then it happened. She asked me how I was doing. I instantly started crying even though I said I was fine. I chalked it up to not sleeping well the night before and having a rough morning with the kids, but she suspected something else. She called another friend who had dealt with PPD and asked her to come over. At the time, I felt ambushed and I made sure they knew it. I gave them the silent treatment, said I was taking the kids and leaving, and cried some more. And they let me have all these reactions without smothering me or trying to make me feel bad about how I was feeling.
Later that afternoon, I agreed to go to an outpatient clinic to talk to a doctor about how I was feeling. We went, I sat in a room and talked about what was going on. We left and I felt more confused than when had first got there. The doctor there could not really do anything to help me. I decided I was okay and went home wishing that I would just start feeling better.
I think it is important to talk about what I was feeling at this point before anyone starts making assumptions. I did not have thoughts or plans of hurting myself or my children, I did not wish to not be around, and I could still handle basic daily functions of my life. I just felt like I couldn't handle everything that was being thrown at me. I hate looking back on this time because I remember thinking that maybe I should have never become a mother and that maybe adding on to our family was the wrong decision. I know now that those thoughts weren't my own and were caused by the postpartum depression.
So, back to getting help. A few days passed and life was going okay. Until it wasn't again. I called my friend who had staged my intervention a few days earlier and asked her if she could watch the kids so that I could go talk to a doctor. She instantly said yes and I started calling around to my doctors to see if I could be seen. I called my OB first and was told that I couldn't be seen in that clinic anymore because I had already been seen for my 6 week follow-up appointment. I called my primary doctor and was told that I needed to call the OB clinic to be seen there. And when I told them I was already told I couldn't be seen there, they scheduled me for an appointment the next week. Well, at this point, I was aware that this was just not going to work.
So I wound up driving myself and my friend's mom to an emergency room. We sat there for hours waiting for something (anything) to be decided or done. I talked to a mental health professional who dismissed my feelings and said that it was just normal baby blues. The emergency room couldn't do anything to help me unless I admitted that I wanted to harm myself or the children. As I said earlier, I didn't have those feelings so that option didn't really exist. So we left, I went back to my friends house to decide what to do next. Luckily my friend's neighbor across the street worked at one of the local hospitals and gave us a little help deciding what to do next.
And it involved going to ANOTHER emergency room. Let's talk about emergency rooms and mental health for a second. It sucks. You are put in a room with only basic equipment in it. I know why the rooms are like this, but it sucks when you know that you aren't a risk to yourself or anyone. And it's boring. I was lucky to have people there with me so that I wasn't super bored.
This emergency room visit was a little better. I got to talk to a couple different mental health professionals and they assured me that I was fine, but should still look for help. They told me my options (medication, therapy, etc), but couldn't prescribe anything because they weren't my primary doctor. But they did help me to feel like I wasn't alone and that I shouldn't be ashamed.
I already had made the appointment with my primary doctor, but going to the emergency room meant that I could get that appointment moved to sooner. And I am so thankful that I was able to. When I talked to my primary doctor, we decided that what I was feeling was most definitely postpartum depression. My doctor gave me the choice of trying therapy and then moving on to medication or trying medication first. I decided to try medication. I had done my research on all of it and finally decided that it was safe for me and my kids (I should mention that I'm the person that doesn't even like to take medicine for a headache so this was a big deal).
The medicine isn't an instant fix, but I started to feel better knowing that it would be helping me soon. My husband was still traveling (and had no idea all this was going on at home) so my friend offered to let me stay at her house for a few days. It was awesome to have help with the kids and she enjoyed being able to run small errands or craft while I was home with all our kids.
And the medicine did wind up helping tremendously. I also started focusing on taking time for myself when possible (reading a chapter of a book, watching a TV show, cooking a more intensive meal) because I knew I needed to start doing my normal things again.
Honestly, I had so many friends step in and help me during this time. I had a friend come to my house so I could fold laundry and clean my house a bit, I had a friend go with me to the grocery store because I wasn't sure I could grocery shop with both my children, and I had a friend take my credit card and shopping list to the store to grab me groceries and lunch from Chick Fil A. I also had friends send me encouraging messages (even a special video message that still makes me cry). And most of all, I had friends that were there to just talk or listen when I needed it.
I was so worried about asking for help and being judged that I put off getting help. THAT is my one regret about this time. I don't regret getting help. I don't regret leaning on my friends for support. And I don't regret getting medicine to help me through this time. I now know that those three things were absolutely necessary for me.
So, if you are a new mom and feeling like you can't handle it on your own, talk to your friends/family and your doctor. PPD is so common and can be very scary when it doesn't actually need to be. There are lots of people out there that only want the best for you and your children; you just have to let them in and let them help you. Your journey to beating PPD may look different than mine journey and that is okay too. Everyone has different ways of handling life. And guess what? Your doctor will be able to help you decide what is right for you.
As a side note, don't go to your doctor and think that they are instantly going to put you on medicine that is going to make you miss out on your child's life. My one fear of being put on medicine was that it was going to turn me into a zombie. For me, the medicine did the exact opposite. It helped calm me down and let me really enjoy time with my children.
I hope that this post has either helped someone realize they are not alone or influenced someone to talk about how they are feeling.
I also hope that it helps someone keep an eye out for a mom who might be struggling. If you think you know a mom who is struggling, don't pressure them to talk about how they are feeling. Just ask if you can do something for them. Home cooked meals and running errands for them are amazing. Also offering to help with the baby so they can get something done (even if it's just a shower) will be so appreciated too.
I know this post was long, but I needed to tell my story. I've kept it tucked away for far too long...
And it's gonna be long so just bare with me if you do decide to read it....
This week is Maternal Mental Health Week and it means a ton to me. And I bet there is a momma out there who needs to know that how she is feeling is okay and also needs to know that it is okay to ask for help.
Let's take it way back to 2012. This is when I had my first child.
I know now that I suffered from at least a minor case of postpartum depression. I didn't realize it at the time and thought everything was just my hormones going back to normal and me just adjusting to this new time in life. I cried and got upset easily and had a hard time leaving the house without my son. I actually remember being invited to a dinner one time and cancelling because my husband wasn't home from work and I didn't want the stress of taking care of my child to make my dinner out with friends miserable. Luckily, I had awesome friends who didn't take no for an answer. They showed up to my apartment, took care of my son while I finished getting ready and made sure I had an awesome time at dinner!
The short period of what I now know was postpartum depression passed quickly and left no damage, luckily.
And then 2016 happened. I gave birth to my second child, my daughter.
I was so happy to be having another child and I was so excited to see my son become a great big brother (he had only been asking for a baby for a couple years at this point). My joy didn't stop postpartum depression from showing up with a vengeance.
My husband saw the signs and tried to get me help early on, but I just brushed his concern aside and said that it was normal baby blues and my hormones adjusting. Also, I told him that it was just harder this time because I also had a toddler to take care of. These aren't exactly false; there was just more to it than that.
When my daughter was 6 weeks old, my husband had to travel for work. It was a stressful week because the date of his departure kept changing and we wound up finding out about 4 hours before he needed to leave that he would be leaving that day. Of course, I had been putting off grocery shopping and all that fun stuff so the stress of trying to get that done before he left started to take its toll on me immediately. I wound up getting enough food to keep us eating for about a week and got him dropped off for his trip.
I cried so hard that I made myself sick. I am used to crying when he has to be away from us for any amount of days (yep, I cry when he's only gone for a couple days...I'm just that way), but the making myself sick was new. I reached out to a friend and became upset when she suggested I might actually need medical help. She backed off the medical help ledge for the night and invited me over to hang out the next day.
Well, the next morning came and my children did not want to cooperate. I think my daughter had two blowout diapers (the worst) and spit up a bunch too. My first thought was to cancel on her, but I decided to just head over there anyway.
And then it happened. She asked me how I was doing. I instantly started crying even though I said I was fine. I chalked it up to not sleeping well the night before and having a rough morning with the kids, but she suspected something else. She called another friend who had dealt with PPD and asked her to come over. At the time, I felt ambushed and I made sure they knew it. I gave them the silent treatment, said I was taking the kids and leaving, and cried some more. And they let me have all these reactions without smothering me or trying to make me feel bad about how I was feeling.
Later that afternoon, I agreed to go to an outpatient clinic to talk to a doctor about how I was feeling. We went, I sat in a room and talked about what was going on. We left and I felt more confused than when had first got there. The doctor there could not really do anything to help me. I decided I was okay and went home wishing that I would just start feeling better.
I think it is important to talk about what I was feeling at this point before anyone starts making assumptions. I did not have thoughts or plans of hurting myself or my children, I did not wish to not be around, and I could still handle basic daily functions of my life. I just felt like I couldn't handle everything that was being thrown at me. I hate looking back on this time because I remember thinking that maybe I should have never become a mother and that maybe adding on to our family was the wrong decision. I know now that those thoughts weren't my own and were caused by the postpartum depression.
So, back to getting help. A few days passed and life was going okay. Until it wasn't again. I called my friend who had staged my intervention a few days earlier and asked her if she could watch the kids so that I could go talk to a doctor. She instantly said yes and I started calling around to my doctors to see if I could be seen. I called my OB first and was told that I couldn't be seen in that clinic anymore because I had already been seen for my 6 week follow-up appointment. I called my primary doctor and was told that I needed to call the OB clinic to be seen there. And when I told them I was already told I couldn't be seen there, they scheduled me for an appointment the next week. Well, at this point, I was aware that this was just not going to work.
So I wound up driving myself and my friend's mom to an emergency room. We sat there for hours waiting for something (anything) to be decided or done. I talked to a mental health professional who dismissed my feelings and said that it was just normal baby blues. The emergency room couldn't do anything to help me unless I admitted that I wanted to harm myself or the children. As I said earlier, I didn't have those feelings so that option didn't really exist. So we left, I went back to my friends house to decide what to do next. Luckily my friend's neighbor across the street worked at one of the local hospitals and gave us a little help deciding what to do next.
And it involved going to ANOTHER emergency room. Let's talk about emergency rooms and mental health for a second. It sucks. You are put in a room with only basic equipment in it. I know why the rooms are like this, but it sucks when you know that you aren't a risk to yourself or anyone. And it's boring. I was lucky to have people there with me so that I wasn't super bored.
This emergency room visit was a little better. I got to talk to a couple different mental health professionals and they assured me that I was fine, but should still look for help. They told me my options (medication, therapy, etc), but couldn't prescribe anything because they weren't my primary doctor. But they did help me to feel like I wasn't alone and that I shouldn't be ashamed.
I already had made the appointment with my primary doctor, but going to the emergency room meant that I could get that appointment moved to sooner. And I am so thankful that I was able to. When I talked to my primary doctor, we decided that what I was feeling was most definitely postpartum depression. My doctor gave me the choice of trying therapy and then moving on to medication or trying medication first. I decided to try medication. I had done my research on all of it and finally decided that it was safe for me and my kids (I should mention that I'm the person that doesn't even like to take medicine for a headache so this was a big deal).
The medicine isn't an instant fix, but I started to feel better knowing that it would be helping me soon. My husband was still traveling (and had no idea all this was going on at home) so my friend offered to let me stay at her house for a few days. It was awesome to have help with the kids and she enjoyed being able to run small errands or craft while I was home with all our kids.
And the medicine did wind up helping tremendously. I also started focusing on taking time for myself when possible (reading a chapter of a book, watching a TV show, cooking a more intensive meal) because I knew I needed to start doing my normal things again.
Honestly, I had so many friends step in and help me during this time. I had a friend come to my house so I could fold laundry and clean my house a bit, I had a friend go with me to the grocery store because I wasn't sure I could grocery shop with both my children, and I had a friend take my credit card and shopping list to the store to grab me groceries and lunch from Chick Fil A. I also had friends send me encouraging messages (even a special video message that still makes me cry). And most of all, I had friends that were there to just talk or listen when I needed it.
I was so worried about asking for help and being judged that I put off getting help. THAT is my one regret about this time. I don't regret getting help. I don't regret leaning on my friends for support. And I don't regret getting medicine to help me through this time. I now know that those three things were absolutely necessary for me.
So, if you are a new mom and feeling like you can't handle it on your own, talk to your friends/family and your doctor. PPD is so common and can be very scary when it doesn't actually need to be. There are lots of people out there that only want the best for you and your children; you just have to let them in and let them help you. Your journey to beating PPD may look different than mine journey and that is okay too. Everyone has different ways of handling life. And guess what? Your doctor will be able to help you decide what is right for you.
As a side note, don't go to your doctor and think that they are instantly going to put you on medicine that is going to make you miss out on your child's life. My one fear of being put on medicine was that it was going to turn me into a zombie. For me, the medicine did the exact opposite. It helped calm me down and let me really enjoy time with my children.
I hope that this post has either helped someone realize they are not alone or influenced someone to talk about how they are feeling.
I also hope that it helps someone keep an eye out for a mom who might be struggling. If you think you know a mom who is struggling, don't pressure them to talk about how they are feeling. Just ask if you can do something for them. Home cooked meals and running errands for them are amazing. Also offering to help with the baby so they can get something done (even if it's just a shower) will be so appreciated too.
I know this post was long, but I needed to tell my story. I've kept it tucked away for far too long...
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