My Experience with PPD

Before my daughter was even born I knew the chance of having post-partum depression was higher for me since I had dealt with depression before.  I was first diagnosed (but long suffered in silence) at 17.  Through counseling and medication I got it under control.  Depression showed up again in my mid-20s, but I recognized the signs and through the help of a therapist felt better within a few months.  This depression, the one after my daughter was born, was totally different than anything else I’d experienced though.  I felt so out of control, so overwhelmed, and so, so guilty for everything.

I’m fortunate that I had previous experience with depression because I recognized it early.  At about six or seven weeks post-partum I talked to my doctor.  She was hesitant to start me on medication as I was not healing well from my emergency c-section and she was afraid that was the cause of my emotions and not real post-partum depression (PPD).  I assured her I knew what I was talking about, and would prefer medication this time, sooner rather than later, to nip this thing in the bud.

I went back to work when my daughter was three months old.  My PPD got worse.  When I wasn’t working, pumping (she had a poor latch and I ended up Exclusively Pumping  (EP) so I could continue to breastfeed), or playing with my daughter, I was crying.  Mostly because I didn’t want to play with her.  I wanted to be able to go in my bedroom, shut the door, and pretend like everything was back to the way it used to be.  I was glad I had to EP because at least I would have 15 minutes to myself every few hours.  I was happy to go back to work so I could get away.  And those feelings of not wanting to be around her brought on extreme guilt.  I mean, crazy guilt.  What kind of mother was I that I didn’t even want to spend time with my 3 month old? 

For me depression isn’t sadness.  It’s anger, anxiety, fear, and guilt all rolled into one, all at the highest level all at the same time.  I never wanted to blend into the couch like the woman on the commercial, I wanted to isolate myself because only having to worry about me (and not my husband or daughter) was the least scary thing.  At least I couldn’t disappoint anyone if I wasn’t around them. 

I started going to a therapist when my daughter was about 4 months old.  My c-section still hadn’t healed.  I was exhausted, overwhelmed, frustrated, angry, and felt guilty about it all.  My therapist helped me see that while I felt like I was just spinning my wheels I really was doing a lot.  I was working.  I was healing from a surgery.  I was taking care of an infant.  I was making milk with which to sustain my daughter.  And because she wouldn’t latch I was pumping every two or three hours.  I had so much else, on top of all of the normal new parent anxiety. 

Through my work with her I gradually started feeling better.  At the same time I was getting physically stronger and more able to deal with my c-section wound.  She helped me refocus my energies from what I didn’t have, to what I did have.  Instead of saying “I can’t get down on the floor and play with her because it hurts too much”, I said,” I’m grateful to be able to watch her explore and discover”.  Instead of saying, “I can’t even load the dishwasher because I can’t bend over”, I said, “I’m grateful to be able to do the few things around the house I can”.  Focusing on that which I do have helped me shift from all of the worries and concerns about what I didn’t have, or couldn’t do, and helped me find my path to healing. 

My daughter is now nine months old.  I’m gradually weaning off of my medication.  I’ve reduced my visits with the therapist from once a week to once a month.  I feel really good.  I feel like I’m in control and like I can finally enjoy the time I have with my little girl.  Some days are easier than others, sure.  But I know that I have the strength it takes to look PPD in the face (so to speak), and tell it that I’m stronger than ever and it won’t control me.