Heavy Stuff

I've been debating on writing this post for a long time. I'm not writing this for people to say "Oh I'm sorry!" or "That must have been so hard!" I'm writing it in hopes that it can help others if they need it. That being said, I want to write about postpartum depression.

I was diagnosed with postpartum depression in early/mid February (ish). It took me longer than it should have to go in and see the doctor about it. I wasn't sure if that's what I was experiencing or if I just had the baby blues. I'm 100% better now because I went in for help. I'm so happy that I went to the doctor when I did.

I think my symptoms started probably 3-4 weeks after Boston was born. I had read a lot about postpartum depression before I had Boston and I had read about symptoms after. But I didn't feel like a lot of the symptoms fit me so I put off seeing the doctor. Looking back on it I should have totally noticed but my thinking wasn't going right and even when I read about symptoms I didn't feel like I had them. I thought what I was experiencing was normal.

Anyway, I hope by talking about this and listing how I felt will maybe help someone else down the road to realize they may have PPD and go see a doctor for help.

The biggest thing that was an indicator I think is that I wasn't taking care of myself. I would take care of Boston great! I'd make sure he was fed, dressed, getting interaction, naps, kisses, loves, etc. But I wouldn't take care of myself. I ate maybe once a day if that, didn't drink too much water at all, and was lucky if I showered. I would also cry A LOT. For no reason! I thought this was just my hormones getting back to normal. I cried so much. All day long. My saddest symptoms are next. I resented Boston and was sad he'd messed up my perfect life I had with Mike before. I wasn't happy. A recurring thought I had was about running away. Of course I never did, but I just thought about how nice it would be to run away. Things that normally made me happy didn't make me happy anymore. I didn't have energy to do a lot of things. One thing I hated was when people would say, "Isn't being a mom the greatest?!" I would smile and say I was really enjoying it, but inside my mind was screaming that I was miserable and hated it. I felt so bad.

I reached out to a relative I'm close to and told him I think I may have PPD. He has dealt with depression and other things and we are close so I went to him. He said to get to a doctor soon and that he loved me. I cried and cried. I'm so grateful he told me that. If he hadn't, I may have waited even longer to go to the doctor.

Thinking back on this I totally should have went to a doctor sooner. But I thought it would get better so I held out. The next day day after crying and crying, I called the doctor's office. I asked if I could get in because I thought I may have PPD. I hated calling. I was scared I'd go in and they'd say nothing was wrong and to stop being such a drama queen. The nurse on the phone said I probably couldn't get in till next week and I started full on bawling on the phone. I felt SO bad. I had no idea why I was crying! She comforted me and said she'd make room for an appointment the next day. I was grateful. I called Mike and told him I would be going to the doctor and I needed him to take time off.

The next day I got up, got ready, and went to the doctor's. The doctor had someone shadowing him, and the student came and talked to me first. He asked me about what was going on. I cried and cried. He had me take a survey. After I was done, he gave the survey to my doctor. My doctor came in and said with what happened on the phone with my nurse, what I'd talked to the student about, and how my survey went, I most definitely had PPD. He wrote me a prescription, told me to see a therapist, and told me everything would get better. But it wouldn't happen overnight.

I felt a little better after I met with my doctor. For the first time in a while I had hope that I'd be happy again. I also met with a therapist a few times. I don't feel like that really did anything. At one time we were talking and I mentioned how I hated my house because it was so messy. Its important to me to have a clean and orderly house. (Which probably seems backwards because our house is hardly ever spotless.) Anyway, she suggested I hire someone to come in and clean or ask someone to come help me. I asked my mom to come help me clean. My mom and Syd both volunteered to come help. My mom ended up getting sick, so Sydney cam and helped clean. It felt so good to have a clean house. I can't thank Sydney enough for coming to help get my house in order. And it was so nice to just have someone to talk to. Thinking back on it my therapist suggested I get on a higher dosage of medication. I was feeling a bit better, but not great. Getting on the higher dosage helped me get back to my normal self.

Little by little I noticed I wasn't crying as much during the day and I thought about running away less. Pretty soon I felt happy again. I enjoyed spending time with Boston. I didn't resent him anymore. I enjoyed things that used to make me happy. I took care of myself. My appetite came back and I was able to get stuff done. I was happy.

I feel bad that Boston's first weeks were spent with me when I was feeling like that. I took care of him, but I didn't enjoy him. Those are weeks I'll never get back with him. But, I just have to make up for it now. I hold him and cuddle him whenever I get the chance. I talk to him, play with him, and get him to smile. And I love every minute of it. I even love it when he's fussy. I know that sounds weird, but I love him when he's fussy. I only get a little bit of time with my sweet little boy when he is little like this and cries for his mama when he needs something. I love that I can provide for him and comfort him. I love him. Besides Mike, Boston is the best thing to come into my life.

Looking back I would describe having PPD as being in a black hole that sucks all the happiness out of life. I didn't enjoy anything, and had no hope that it would get better. It was really hard. Everyday was a struggle. I'm really happy I went to see my doctor. The medication he put me on has made all the difference. Some people are critical of these medications, and are worried because one of the side effects can be suicidal tendencies. While that is scary, I believe these medicines do more good than bad. Those on medications like me need to pay attention to how they are feeling and report to their doctor if they have any changes or symptoms.

I hope that anyone reading this post will realize that signs of postpartum depression aren't black and white. One main reason I didn't go into the doctor sooner is I never read any symptoms about wanting to run away or resenting the baby. I had read in being uninterested with the baby, but I felt I was interested. I took care of him and made sure he had everything he needed all the time. I had read about the mother wanting to harm herself or the baby, but I'd never read about a mom wanting to just pick up and leave. So I hope that anyone that reads this will understand that symptoms are different for different people.

If you have symptoms, go get help! It makes a world of a difference. I feel like my normal self again, and I find joy in everyday with my little family. I love my little family and wouldn't change a thing.