Anything
I recently tried to explain to someone how it was in the beginning, caring for children 18 months apart. I said “It’s like carrying around a delicate glass bowl in your hands. In this bowl is a fragile goldfish. The goldfish is swimming happily in the water. You can’t put the bowl down because the bottom isn’t flat. You must hold it all day keeping the goldfish happy and contained in plenty of water meanwhile all day you are to run across your house cleaning up after a puppy that’s getting paw prints everywhere, chewing on sneakers, and doesn’t listen to a word you’re saying.
Or perhaps it was like this. I was carrying around a brand new baby while my other child, equipped with new running and exploring legs, ran circles around the house away from me, craving my attention and then hiding around corners… eating cat food… well not eating it, sticking it up his nose. “You really need to keep your eye on your first born,” smirked the nurse, “He’s still a baby, and although he’s verbal, he’s not as old as you think. Perhaps you should try reading a nice quiet book with him and snuggle while you nurse the baby.” Did anyone have a clue about what was going on?
When the children were sleeping or napping I was running around like a puppy. What should I do first? I’d start running down the stairs and stop half way… what was I going downstairs for? Clean the house? Mop the floors? Pick up all the clothes strewn across my bedroom floor? Clear the clutter? Start cooking dinner? Alone time? Sleep? Nap? Email? Read? Tea? Shower? I really should be doing… Wait, what am I supposed to be doing? And then….”waaaaah”… . I wanted to be left alone.
Spiraling
My mind was completely cluttered, flat, uninspired, and a thick place to be. I was always known as a ray of sunshine, pure joy, a true friend, creative, and with a contagious smile. Not in any picture did I look or feel this way. Was it just my 30s? Is it having children? Marriage? Why didn’t I feel alive? Why didn’t I feel anything?
An occurrence of events began to happen that seemed to spiral me down. Ironically we flew to Florida for some sunlight and a little rest… well not exactly. Finn coughed through the night, turned blue, and I would hold him in my arms, scared. Although he never tested positive for Pertussis (whooping cough), the doctor in Florida was positive of his diagnosis. Every photo taken in Florida you can hardly see the whites of my eyes, it’s like I have two almonds glued on either side of my nose. I was sleepwalking.
Letting Go
My six week post partum check up ended up being at three months instead of six weeks. I remember struggling through the doctor’s door with Finn in a car seat. All the nurses and doctors were beaming at the new baby, but I wasn’t beaming with them. I wasn’t grateful, I was resentful and I felt dizzy. What’s wrong with me? Maybe I’m not eating enough? Everyday I was so busy feeding, dressing, washing everyone else that I thought through osmosis I would somehow fill my stomach.
My doctor was and is a ray of sunshine. I saw a glimpse of my past self in her eyes. “How are things going,?” she asked. I cried. I said, ” It’s hard, I’m tired, and I’m not getting any sleep.” She smiled and empathized. There was some divine intervention here, because when I looked into her eyes I knew she knew a better, healthier me. This woman, ME, who was sitting on her table was not the same woman who came in three plus months ago ready to give birth. I knew I needed to talk to someone. After she left the room she came back with three numbers. She recommended all three therapists, but her number one therapist she recommended worked closely with women, new mothers, and the post partum period. She never mentioned post partum depression, thankfully. I probably would have never called.
Therapy and Fear of the Pink Slip
This time around the therapist listened to me for about 30 minutes straight ramble on about children, career, cleaning the house, making everything perfect, lack of bonding with Finn, arguing with husband, not eating, not sleeping, struggles with finding community, distant relatives, defining what it meant to be a stay at home mom, not knowing how to get on the right track, all the while bursting into tears every other sentence. There wasn’t a glimpse of happiness in all of this. I was miserable. In her calm, nurturing self she gave me a number of a psychiatrist and said she thought I had post partum depression and I should meet with a psychiatrist for a diagnosis. WHAT??? Not me. DEPRESSION? Will I be thrown into a hospital floor never to be seen again? Away from my children? My husband assured me that none of this was true.
For a week I opposed calling the psychiatrist. I called a stay at home mom I knew instead and we met at the park with the children. After 10 minutes I was packing up the car. Everyone was in tears. Asher was crying from falling off the play structure, Finn was crying because he couldn’t nurse, and I’m in tears because I couldn’t handle it.
As I read this narration of a time you felt so alone, I feel right there with you! Thank you for expressing what I’ve been through. I only wish I could sit on the sofa with you and empathize face to face. My first two children are 21 months apart–I was introduced to PPD when my 2nd was born. Now I have four, and my experience after the birth of my last child continues to baffle me because of it’s severity. Inch by inch, day by day, I know I’m getting better. Hang on to hope. Those first two children of mine are now 12 and 11. They are bright, responsible AND helpful!
I “bottomed out” after my first was born and never got help….I should have since the second pregnancy things are still there right where I left them. Your description of the goldfish and the puppy really struck home for me. I am still living in the dark. My daughter was 18months when my twins were born. I have struggled for two more years and I can’t get out of the hole. Each time I pick up the phone I get a machine. It’s like i am always going in circles.
Some other shade of blue:
I know how you feel. I had PPD with my first and spent 2 years walking in the hell that is PPD. When i was expecting our second child i finally told my Dr how i was feeling. She wrote me a scripted for “happy pills” and i have not looked back. ITs been a long hard struggle with many ups and downs. But i’m now expecting our 4 child and am doing really great (well this week anyway). I really hit a bit of a rock bottom at the start of the year which was a good thing. I went to see the psycologist and the psychiatrist which are part of the maternity unit at my local hospital and it has been great. They have increased my “happy Pills” and i now only have to see the psychiatrist every 4 weeks. I still see Robin my psycologist every 3 weeks and its so wonderful to go and just be able to vent to some one with out having to then turn around and have to listen to them venting as well.
All i can say speak out and ask for help someone will pick up that phone. The first two years of Sebastian’s life where hell and i find myself now being very vocal about my own PPd because i don’t want anyone else to feel that bad for that long.
[…] At A Mother Sojourn's blog, she shares the experience of her postpartum depression diagnosis and how it felt when things first started going south. […]