Slide of Postpartum Sad

A few years ago a celebrity came out with her struggles with postpartum depression.

And for so many people, it was a revelation. Like, WOW. I went through that! I'm not alone! I'm not insane!  Because having a baby is an adventure in itself, and the hormonal roller coaster of pregnancy and then giving birth, and bodily changes and marital changes and personal changes.  It's a lot. Add on life, and possible other stresses like finances and other kids' adjustment to the baby, and moving and just so many things that can make having a a baby so much more.

With my first, I was fine. I had five or six days of baby blues, where I'd get all weepy around 4pm (for some reason the coming of night made me worse).  But after about two weeks, I was good. My brain got itself back on track, I fell in love with my baby, and life moved on.  When she was 8 weeks old, my appendix went and I had to have emergency surgery, and then two months after that I got pregnant again.

So when Cass was 13 months old, I gave birth again, to Gabriel.

He was colicky, to the point of screaming every day 18 hours straight.  He never slept, he had reflux so eating was misery, and on top of it he had a protein intolerance which made his intestines bleed every time he had anything other than a special formula. Our finances got very tight, and things slid downhill for us in many ways.

By the time Gabe was 6 months old, I was a mess.

But the thing is? If you'd asked me?  I would NEVER have classified myself as having PPD. I wasn't sad, I didn't cry, I took care of my children.  My house was clean, my responsibilities taken care of. I didn't sleep a lot, or wallow in my own misery.

But I was a heinous, righteous, nasty person. I was irritable, edgy, easily annoyed. Nothing held pleasure for me. I went through the motions, but there was a distance between me and everyone around me. I felt like I was lost, stuck in a rut while everyone's lives around me were moving on. I was angry off about everything all the time.  NOTHING made me happy. Nothing. Smiling and laughing were habit, rather than actual emotion. I went through daily life, not really caring about things. Don't get me wrong.  I loved my children, desperately. And I did everything right in showing them that love.

But I wasn't happy. I wasn't content, or at peace, or anything good, at all.

When Gabe was about six months old, my mom came to me with her 'concerns'. And I was all "whatever, I'm fine, back off".  And then I stopped being nasty for two seconds, and listened, and realized she was right.

I'm a huge proponent of behavioral modification therapy. Exercise, diet, lifestyle choices, all play a significant role in our mental health. Sometimes sunlight on my face will do more for my state of mind than anything else.  But I was in a bad place.  And no matter how hard I tried, no matter who I talked to, or what I read, or how I researched, I couldn't help myself out of the the PPD. I couldn't escape it.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm a scrapper.  I get mad when life slaps at me, and I fight back. I will claw my way out of a situation rather than sit in it. I'm not a wallower. But the PPD was different. It had its own entity in my head, and no matter how strong my will was, I COULD NOT pull myself out of it.

50mg of Zoloft daily was the one thing that finally brought me back.

Some people don't believe in medication. That's okay, and I can respect that choice.  In our house, we rarely take medication. I prefer healthy foods and habits, and allowing our bodies to fight things rather than popping a pill for every ache and pain.  But I needed the help. Because no matter what I did, nothing worked.

Within a month, I was more myself. I realized how bad I'd truly been, and how close I was to completely shutting myself off from those I loved.

People tend to have a certain idea about postpartum depression.  But every one of us has a different chemical makeup in our bodies, so hormonal and chemical issues will present differently for each of us.

And you know what?  It's okay.  So many of has have been there, and we made it out. We got through it, and survived, and gotten back to the place where we feel good about our lives.

After Olivia, my third, was born, I was afraid of the PPD. So I was ready.  And it was a good thing I was, because when she was 5 days old she was hospitalized for seizures, and spent a week in the hospital, and then came home to a regimen of medication for seizure management, and it was awful. It was terrifying, and painful, and it could have sent me into a very dark place.

I don't like the dark places.  It's so hard to find my way out once I've become enveloped in the warm embrace of absolute darkness. But, for my babies, and for myself, and for my marriage, I do. I use medication as needed, and therapy as needed, and help from those around me.

And, eventually I'm okay.

With my most recent pregnancy, I worried, of course.

But I know I can come out of it, I know there's hope. So, I will use that hope to make it through.