My friend Jennifer and I came up with a great idea that I absolutely love. As you know, I am expecting my first child. This can be so overwhelming and I know that other first time moms probably feel the same. I have so many questions and would love to hear the opinions of moms who have already been through this a time or two before.Because of this, we are hosting a weekly series to try and get some answers to some of the most common questions.
Here are the topics we still have for future weeks:
So without further ado, let's get on with Week 12: Struggling With Postpartum Depression! Since I do not have any children of my own yet, I will be featuring a blogger each week and their expert advice on the topic at hand (:
Struggling With Postpartum Depression:
Hi! I’m Alison at Tales of My Life As An Army Wife. I’m so grateful for this opportunity to share my experience with postpartum depression. It’s a very real condition that can happen to anyone and unfortunately there’s often a stigma associated with it. I’m hoping to break down that barrier by sharing my story.
I’m a planner by nature. It makes me really uncomfortable when I don’t know what to expect when a new event arises. When I found out I was pregnant I went right into planning and preparation mode. I was even a little tickled that nesting is a normal part of pregnancy. Now I had an excuse! I was pretty ridiculous with all my plans. I had all the bottles ready to go. I had all the toys that were recommended. Emily’s nursery was beautiful and decorated in the Winnie-the-Pooh theme. And even though I wouldn’t be able to use it until at least 4 months after Emily was born, I went ahead and bought the baby bullet so I could make her baby food. I was also dead set on breastfeeding. It was what was best for the baby and free. Who really wants to spend at least $1,000 on formula? I was so proud of myself for that decision. I was going to be the best mom ever.
One thing I was really adamant about preparing for was postpartum depression. This is a topic that really hits home to me. When my sister was born, my mother suffered from postpartum psychosis, one of the most severe forms. My sister is 6 years younger than me; therefore I pretty much remember every bit of what happened. My mother had to be forcibly committed to a mental institution after she threatened to kill me, my sister and then herself. Pretty scary stuff right? It was extremely traumatizing for me. It still kinda affects me today. There is no evidence that it’s hereditary but I wasn’t taking any chances. I was not going to put my family through that. I read countless articles, medical journals and websites about the symptoms, warning signs and the medical jargon about postpartum. I looked my husband and best friend cold in the eye to do whatever was necessary to get me help if they saw the signs. I even when so far as to go to the legal office on post and ask if there was a way I could sign a form that would allow my family to commit me if necessary. The guy looked at me like I should already be committed. I’m a planner, remember? 
The day came when Emily was born. The realities of parenthood quickly set in. Day two was the worst. Steve and I still call it Day 2. Emily just cried and cried all day and all night. I didn’t know what to do. The exhaustion was almost unbearable. I was so tired I started crying. Anxiety consumed me. I had a constant knot in my stomach and worry started to invade my brain. The dream of the supermom I thought was going to be was starting to fade quick and I felt there was no way I was going to be a good mother. I couldn’t even make my own baby stop crying. Then I began to wish the hospital had a nursery so they could just take her so I could get some rest. Those thoughts quickly turned into an internal berating of myself of how horrible I was for feeling that way.
Then the reality of breastfeeding started to set in which only elevated my anxiety and worry to a whole new level. Breastfeeding is much harder than you realize. Doctors tell you that it’s not as easy people think it is but you don’t really know until you try to do it. I had a nagging suspicion that the reason why Emily wouldn’t stop crying was because she was hungry. I felt in my gut she wasn’t getting any breast milk from me. When I tried to pump only a few drops came out. Nurses kept telling me that sometimes it takes a few days and to keep trying. But Emily kept screaming. I wanted to switch to formula because I wanted Emily to get fed. Then the battle in my head started. I kept thinking what a failure I was as mother and as a woman. I was determined not to be a failure. Women since the dawn of time have been breastfeeding. I was going to do it too. 
When we got home I was constantly breastfeeding or pumping. Every hour I was waking up to either pump or nurse Emily. Nothing was coming out when I pumped and my anxiety hit a new level. Emily was looking smaller and always crying. I constantly checked on her because I was afraid she was going to die from malnourishment. At her two-day follow up appointment she lost 12% of her body weight. The doctor encouraged me to keep trying to breast feed and wanted to see her back in a week to do a weight check. I kept trying. I hadn’t gotten any sleep in days because I was constantly pumping and nursing. I cried every time I pumped because only droplets would come out. I felt like a failure and inadequate. I thought for sure Steve was going to leave me because of my inadequacy.
At the next appointment she lost 15% of her birth weight. The doctor started to get concerned but kept encouraging me to keep at breastfeeding. I insisted that I start supplementing. He wanted to see her again in a week for a weight check. There went another week of crying, from both Emily, and myself and dealing with the constant battle in my head about what a horrible wife, mother and person I was because I caved into supplementing. The next weight check showed she lost 17% of her birth weight. I threw in the towel. My daughter needed food and I wasn’t able to provide it for her.
On the way home, I bought our first can of formula. I cried because on the can it said breast was best. Even the formula was telling me I was a failure. Every time I made a bottle I sobbed because I was reminded that I was less of a woman because I was the only one who couldn’t breastfeed. I also felt like I was a horrible mother for not feeling utter joy when I held Emily. In fact often I felt like she wasn’t going survive having a louse of a mother like me. I cried because I didn’t feel that bond and connection. Wasn’t I supposed to have the mama bear mentality? Wasn’t I supposed to feel undying devotion to my baby? At those moments I cried because I felt like I wasn’t going to be able to love Emily like I was supposed to. Like all the other moms did. 
The day came when Steve confronted me. He said that he has noticed that I’m crying all the time and emotionally detached. He then went into some medical terms saying my hormones were probably raging from giving birth, the stress for trying to nurse Emily and not getting any sleep for the past three weeks is probably really taking a toll on me. Then he dropped the bomb on me. He said he thought I might be suffering from postpartum. I was stunned and yelled at him that I wasn’t crazy. But then in the next moment a huge weight had been lifted. While I was slightly offended at Steve for saying as much (and yes I realize I told him to before Emily’s birth), because I planned not to get postpartum, it made sense. He suggested that I go to a new parent support group that was being offered on post. He said it might help talking with some other new parents.
He was right. There were other moms who were formula feeding! I wasn’t the only mother who couldn’t breastfeed. Some moms didn’t even try. (I knew these things all along, but it felt like I was the only one who couldn’t and wasn’t breastfeeding.) When I told the group leader all my trials about breast-feeding she applauded my effort. She told me that I was an excellent mother for doing what I needed to make sure Emily thrived. Other moms were sharing their stories and a lot of them felt the same way I did. I wasn’t a horrible person after all. I also reintegrated with my friends and that helped a lot too. Talking with them made me feel a lot better and confirmed that I wasn’t alone in my feelings. In my sadness and anxiety, I had completely isolated myself from the people that cared deeply about me, and Emily, and wanted to help. Coming out from isolation was one of the keys to recovering from childbirth and postpartum.
At this point Emily wasn’t sleeping at night at all. I was beginning to feel better in terms of my depression but I was beyond exhausted and had been running a fumes for weeks. Some of my friends gave me some tricks to get her to sleep. I brought out the big guns and I used them all that same night. Emily slept 6 whole hours. It was magical. I felt so refreshed, like I had slept for days. Because of how much weight she had lost, Emily had to keep going to the doctor every week for weight checks. Every time she was gaining weight and growing. I smiled when the doctor said how good she looked and she looked like a happy baby. That made my heart smile.
Soon I got to the point where the only thing that made me cry about formula was the price. I also began to feel that feeling of joy when I held Emily. That feeling that I thought I didn’t have. Turns out it was there all along, I was probably just too exhausted and anxious at the time to realize it was there. 18 months later, I can’t imagine my life without her. I tear up just thinking about her sometimes. I savor every moment with her because I know how fast time goes. I’m starting to tear up right now as I think about it. 
So, that’s my story. What I learned is that postpartum can happen to anyone. It can sneak up on you can take over. I cut my mother a little more slack now. I judged her for years for not being a stronger woman. Strength has nothing to do it with. I’m not a better person for not having the severe case that my mother did, nor is anyone better than me for not showing any symptoms. I also learned not to be too hard on myself and expect too much too soon. Those feelings that can consume you are often normal. Your body had 9-10 months to get accustomed to the gradual increase of hormones that accompany pregnancy. Then all of a sudden you give birth and in just a few hours everything changes quickly. The hormones are rapidly leaving your body. No wonder emotions are flying and you don’t feel like yourself. Coupled with exhaustion from giving birth and being a caretaker. It’s a stressful time and your body needs to adjust.
My advice, especially to first time moms, is to be prepared but don’t plan too much. Sometimes the plan has to change. It doesn’t make you inadequate or a bad mother. Learn what you can but know that sometimes some parts of motherhood are going to have to be on the fly. If you are having troubling thoughts and feelings, most of the time it’s normal. Talk with friends and family. Ask for their help. More often than not they want to help you through this time. Most importantly, realize that you are going to be a good mother. You know what’s best. Don’t doubt this. Lastly, if you realize you are having thoughts about hurting yourself or your baby, get medical help. Let your family help you find the treatment that you need. There is absolutely NO shame in getting help. Postpartum is a very real condition that has varying levels. Seeking help for it doesn’t define you or make you weak. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.
