This is where it gets hard for me….
I don’t think I ever wanted anything more in my life than to be a mom! I have wanted this since I was old enough to play with baby dolls. I had every accessory for every doll I owned. I changed their diapers, I fed them, I held and rocked them – I wanted one of my very own! I always dreamed of the moment when my baby was handed to me for the very first time. I couldn’t even imagine what that particular moment would feel like – but I couldn’t wait for it. Then, after I found out I was pregnant, I realized I would experience that moment soon, which made me even more anxious and excited for it. But, when my baby boy was handed to me, I felt numb. I was in pain, I knew I was about to go have surgery, he was bruised and hurting, I was numb. I felt nothing. I felt no joy, I felt no sadness, I felt nothing! SO far from what I had always dreamed this moment would be like.
They took him to examine him, and then started prepping me for surgery. I was sort of in panic mode because I could not figure out why I did not feel what I always dreamt of feeling. So, I asked for him back before they took me for surgery in hopes of having that “feeling.” I was disappointed once again… so, I gave him back.
I felt so unworthy of being this sweet, precious, innocent little boy’s mother because I did not have the feelings I should have had. Every time I picked him up, held him, changed his diaper, kissed him, or even glanced at him, I hoped for just a tiny bit of that feeling… but it never came. I loved him… I was glad he was finally here, but I wanted the “feeling.” I pretended everything was fine, and I went through all the motions of a first-time mom, or any mom who had just given birth I suppose, but it was just that… going through the motions. When we got home, I continued to go through the motions. We had visitors come over to see and dote on the baby and bring us dinner and gifts and spend time with us. It was a good thing, I know it was… it was good to have people around – but, at the time, it was not so great. I appreciated the fact that they cared and that they wanted to see and admire our baby, but I didn’t want to see anyone! I was sad. I was sad and I didn’t know why. I wanted to be happy and enjoy this “should-be” happy time in my life, but I was sad.
My mom stayed with us around the clock the first week we were home. She was wonderful. On top of the sadness I was feeling, I was also very physically worn out and sore. I couldn’t even think about getting in my bed to sleep… so I slept in the recliner. My mom slept on the couch, and Barrett slept in his bassinet between the two of us. I couldn’t reach to get him out of his bassinet when it was time for him to eat, so my poor mom had to get him out and hand him to me each time. She did it. Every time. Happily. Even at two or three or six in the morning. She always did it. She was amazing. My dad came over every evening, and we ate dinner, and my parents were so encouraging and helpful. I don’t know what we would have done without them.
Before Barrett was born, Isaac used to joke with my parents that he couldn’t wait to kick them out of our house… when Barrett was here, however, but when his wife was a blubbering mess, he was quick to let them know that he would NEVER kick them out. They could stay as long as they wanted!!
The days were so long. I was so sad. There were days I just sat and cried for hours and hours. Most mornings I couldn’t even make myself get out of bed to feed my poor sweet baby. He would be laying there in front of me – hungry and crying – and all I could do was lay there. I felt so bad… but I absolutely could not get up and feed him. Thank God for my mom and dad. Isaac had to be at work, so my parents came to the rescue.
I have dealt with anxiety and depression throughout my life, but this was different. I couldn’t even make myself take care of my own baby. This was postpartum depression. This was miserable. I finally came to the realization that this was what I was dealing with. This wasn’t just a small bout of sadness after having a baby… this was big time.
I had been on Prozac previously, so I called my doctor and he put me back on it. The next couple of weeks were still rough, but each day got a little bit easier. It was all about baby steps for me. But eventually, I was able to get up and feed Barrett when he needed to be fed. I was able to make myself shower and get ready for the day. I was able to change Barrett’s diaper and make sure he was taken care of. I never actually failed to do these things if no one else was around to do them, but if there was an out, I definitely took it. I felt so guilty for not being able to make myself do these things, and yet, I couldn’t.
I know this post is different than most. It isn’t upbeat or happy. But it is real. Postpartum depression is real. All forms of depression are real. This topic isn’t talked about often, but it should be. I am not ashamed.
I was able to talk to a woman in our community who experienced many of the same feelings and thoughts I was having and it was extremely helpful. Just knowing that I wasn’t the only new mother to feel this way. Depression is very alienating. It is easy to fall into a deep dark whole and feel that you are the only one who has experienced this. The guilt takes over and you begin to withdraw from friends and family. Luckily, I was able to recognize what was happening to me and take care of it before it got any worse – it was already bad enough. I wish more women knew that this is a common thing and feel comfortable talking about it. I think it would be so helpful to society today.