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My
post partum experience began in 2002 after the birth of my first
son, Oscar. Labor was long – seven days – and I had to
have a c-section because I could not ‘give birth’. In
addition, my milk supply simply never came in. My son lost so much
weight that his pediatrician wrote ‘failure to thrive’
on the diagnosis line at his 2 week check-up. I was completely confused
and crying a lot. I felt totally inadequate. I was also, like all
new mothers, sleep-deprived and overwhelmed with all the demands
that come with a new baby. These stresses are a lot for anyone to
handle, but for a woman with PPD, they are impossible. I didn’t
know what was wrong with me. I just wanted to put my baby back in
and reduce him to the original material, so to speak. I thought
I had ruined my life. I felt like a failure as a mother because
I could neither birth nor feed my own offspring. I couldn’t
sleep, and when I did I was awakened by my very poor sleeper of
a baby. I lived in fear of his cries. My husband worked and went
to school evenings and I was terrified to be left alone with my
son while he went to work. My mother and sisters rotated in on the
nights he had to work so I didn’t have to be alone. My one
panic attack occurred on a night no one could come over. I thought
I was going to die. I did have thoughts of suicide – often.
I would drive around in the evenings with my son in the car wondering
how I could hit a tree or telephone pole so that I would kill myself,
but not my son. I also did not really bond with my son at first.
I never called him by his name, only “the baby”.
It
wasn’t until my 6 week check-up that the doctor told me I was
suffering from PPD. While I wasn’t very happy to hear that,
I was relieved to finally have an explanation of my feelings. I
started therapy and began attending A Lighter Shade of Blue support
group meetings. That first meeting, when I listened to other women
tell their stories, I felt like a load had been lifted! I was not
the only woman to feel this way. I still had a long way to go, but
at least I knew I wasn’t a horrible person for having these
feelings. I continued therapy, and it was very helpful. But for
me, an antidepressant was also required. I resisted that for 8 months,
but eventually accepted my doctor’s gentle guidance. It’s
not for everyone, but it was for me. Medication helped with the
racing thoughts and overwhelming depressive mood. The therapy helped
with the feelings of guilt, shame and inadequacy I felt. It was
a long journey back. I don’t recall having feelings of love
for my son for a good 10 months… at least. I don’t even
know how old he was before I told him I loved him.
I
don’t really have many memories of my son’s first year.
I have a lot of pictures though and Oscar has a great baby book.
In every picture that I have of him and me during that time, I’m
smiling. I know I didn’t feel the happiness at the time, but
something tells me, now that I can look back on it, that the happiness
and love were there. I just couldn’t feel them. There was a
physical dysfunction in my brain that wouldn’t allow those
feelings to be felt. I wouldn’t wish PPD on anyone. However,
it has led me to some realizations I never would have had otherwise.
It has also led me to some great friends and a desire to help other
new moms. In fact, when I hear that someone has had a baby, I don’t
ask about the baby. I ask about the mom. I want to make sure she
has as good a support system as her child.
You’ll
note that I called Oscar my first child. When he was about 2, I
was feeling well enough to entertain the thought of having another
child. My second son, Sam, was born one year later. I did not have
PPD with Sam, for which I am eternally grateful. But even if I had,
it would have been OK because I survived it once and I know what
it takes to get through it.
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