(A few disclaimers: This might be difficult for some to read. Just so you know what you're getting into I will be sharing some dark moments/thoughts. I also want you to know throughout my pregnancy and postpartum period I had already sought out counseling. So if you're thinking "Man, this girl needs professional help!!" I most definitely DID need that and already had that in place. Also, this is my longest blog post yet and that's saying a lot! It was obviously important to me to go into great detail about all of this. Sorry it's so long! You've been warned!)
What does postpartum depression mean? What does it look like? I hope that you know that I feel SO called to share as many intimate details as I can about what MY journey looks like. For me, before experiencing it myself, there was a lot of mystery surrounding what PPD actually looked like. What is it? Is it just feeling sad? Feeling like you will never feel "normal" again? Is it feeling paranoid about your baby dying in their sleep? Is it thinking about hurting your baby? Hurting yourself? Is it "just" feeling like you can't handle getting out of bed? Like getting through the day is too much work? For some, it's all of the above. Or maybe just one of these. It's different for everyone. (And full disclosure: I'm currently sitting in a Starbucks, sobbing, on a Tuesday, after drinking my fair share of wine...since PPD is mostly a story of my past I knew I would need a little bit of "assistance" going back there.) But please know that I am actively praying over this WHOLE post and these words more than I have EVER before. I want you to know, as I'm sharing... I'm also praying. That my openness and vulnerability and words might mean something to you in some way. That you might feel that you are joining me on this journey for a (very specific) reason...whatever that reason might be. You're reading this for a reason.
If you are someone who has experienced PPD before, you know firsthand what this looks like. And I love you and I'm so proud of you mama. If you've experienced "baby blues" (like I did after my first baby) you have had a little taste of what PPD looks like. You know. If you're there right now know this: this is not forever. You.are.not.alone. It is okay. (It's not. I know.) But it is. Because this is a thing. A physical, biological, physiological, hormonal, chemical thing. A thing that's not your fault. And it's not about something that you did or didn't do. And you can get help. And you do not and will not have to live like this forever. I promise.
Okay. So when I last updated the blog (about postpartum stuff) it was mid-November. We were roughly 6 weeks into our postpartum journey. At that point, things were about half and half. 50% manageable and 50% not manageable. Which is pretty normal for just having had a baby y'all. BUT. After we hit the 6 week mark, shit hit the fan. Things went really downhill real quick. I started to feel as if everything in my life was piling on top of me. Life got really really REALLY hard. On top of not feeling like "myself" (physically or mentally/emotionally), I felt like everywhere I looked my inadequacy was staring me right in the face. Piles of laundry, dirty floors, unmade beds, stacks of papers, clutter, a Christmas tree with no presents underneath, empty stockings waiting to be filled... all of these things reminding me of my long to-do lists and my inability to even check basic chores off of my list (let alone take care of Christmas gifts and such). Even just things that required more than 60 seconds of thought (which, btw with 3 kids you don't have 60 seconds straight to think about anything for that long ever anyway) were impossible. But I felt like I was completely and totally drowning in all of the things. I was suffocating.
And it's not as easy as just waking up and saying "Okay, I'm going to just power through and get as much done as I can today"...because the second my eyes open there's someone crying and/or needing something from me. I would wake up in the morning and just lay there and cry before getting out of bed (usually while Cami was also crying in her bed bc she needed me to nurse her...) Thinking about feeding everyone breakfast was enough to make me feel like I just couldn't do it. It was too much. I was too tired. I felt like my body weighed 1,000 lbs. and I couldn't move. I felt very alone and I just needed Ryan to be home. But obviously he couldn't be home every day. I would nurse Cami, eyes only halfway open, and I literally felt like what little life of me that was left was being sucked out of my body through my boobs. Feeding another person entirely WITH your body can sometimes just feel so draining - physically and mentally. I wasn't able to focus my thoughts or attention on anything. I felt like I was drowning and couldn't ever come up for air.
On December 18th, I had a therapy session. (Cami was about 11 weeks old at this point.) I remember that session very vividly. Saying to my therapist, through tears, "I feel like I'm slipping." I felt like.... things were suddenly not getting any better or even staying the same, but about to get way worse. Christmas was coming up... which meant lots of expectations, lots of obligations...Right before my session, I jotted down a few notes on my phone, about where I was at and what I was feeling. Here are those notes, unedited:
"12/18 - I feel like I'm slipping. I'm drowning. Everything is on top of me. And I'm trying to claw my way to the top but it just gets steeper. I can't even focus right now though. I'm not even capable of doing anything. I feel like my life is passing by and I can't even see it. I desperately want to love this. I want to cherish my little baby but I can't. I hate this phase of life that I'm in right now. It's too transitional. I'm just waiting. Waiting for a new...community, group of friends, body, rest...waiting for everything and I'm trying to be patient but [that] gets old. I'm starting to get too anxious and impatient. Not giving my body the respect and grace it deserves. Some days I just feel sad. And sorry for myself maybe? Other days I just feel like I'm slipping. Like, mid-slip. Where you know you're slipping but you don't know yet if you're going to recover or if you're going down. Or as if I'm running on a treadmill. Trying to get enough momentum where I can hop on the sides and pause. But someone keeps increasing the incline and increasing the speed."
I left that therapy session not really feeling like there was a plan or that I was prepared or anything. I mean, I felt better just having had someone to talk to. But there was still a lot of uncertainty. The next 7-10 days were so awful, and proved to be possibly the worst and darkest days of my life.
Something else I was struggling with at this time was my ability to exercise. Every time I would go for a run, something would shift hormonally/chemically in my body and it would trigger menstruation (/major hormone crashes) to start 24 hours after my workout. Every time. 24 hours later guaranteed. After bleeding for 7+ weeks following birth, then having several full-blown-week-long periods (sometimes only 10-14 days apart from start to start, depending on when I ran)... I was so sick of bleeding y'all. Bleeding was just one more thing to make me feel like I couldn't just be normal. I was afraid to run or exercise. I wanted to run. I like running. I need to run. It keeps me sane. I also struggled with my postpartum body image for the first time ever (which I will address later) but not running just made me feel worse about myself. I am someone who is usually very in tune with my body and my cycles, yet I felt so disconnected and out of touch with my body because I really just didn't know what was going on. Because I became afraid to run, the muscles in my legs started to break down and it was quite sore and painful for me. I got to the point where I couldn't stand it anymore and decided to just suck it up and go run and pray that I wouldn't start my period. I guess I wasn't really thinking because I made the decision to do so on December 23rd.
The next morning was Christmas Eve. I felt semi-stable most of the morning because I didn't wake up bleeding! Well... a few hours later (right when we were supposed to start getting ready for Christmas Eve church service) I started bleeding. There was usually a lot of anxiety that arose on days whenever we needed to leave the house and I had to wear something other than pajamas... and Christmas Eve was no different. Worse than usual actually. I needed to find something in my closet that not only fit me (which was not much), but was also nursing friendly AND nice enough for church... but the bleeding was the straw that broke the camel's back. The rest of Christmas Eve was a mess. I won't go into every detail and everything that went "wrong" but there were a lot of things that didn't go according to plan, as I had expected them to, or were just a disappointment in general. Christmas Eve church service didn't pan out for several frustrating reasons, but during our attempt I ended up just driving away from the church, crying. I had Cami in the car and left Ryan at church with the two big kids. Once he realized things weren't going well he left the service and called me. I turned around and came back to pick everyone up. (Ryan did question whether I should be driving or not but home was only a few miles away so I felt okay to get us there.) Once we got home, I jumped into the shower and lost it. I couldn't get a grip. I was laying on the shower floor, sobbing uncontrollably, (bleeding everywhere), with my mind and thoughts all over the place. I felt almost every emotion you can imagine (including but not limited to): sadness, disappointment, loneliness, depression, like I couldn't just be normal, live normal, do normal things with my husband and family... there is so much pressure to take advantage of the holiday season too. (I was also struggling with processing Cami's birth, my pregnancy being over, extreme sleep deprivation, body image issues...SO many things...not to mention "just" adjusting to adding another tiny person to our family!) Ryan and I were looking at each other wondering if maybe we should go somewhere or call someone or... something. I think he was afraid that I might hurt myself. And while those thoughts were there in my mind, I also knew I probably wasn't capable of that... At one point I asked him to bring Cami to me so that I could hold her (she was most likely also crying wherever she was too). It felt good to just sit there, both Cami and I totally naked and just be close to her. Holding her, I still felt an unbearable amount of guilt though. I apologized to her for not being a better mom to her. And that all she had really known me for for her entire 12 months of existence was a sobbing, hormonal, depressed, unavailable mess of a mom. (Ryan made sure to keep a close eye on both of us at this point to make sure nothing crazy happened. Which felt and still feels very weird that that's where I was. Not to be fully trusted to be alone with myself or alone with my baby.)
Somehow, Ryan managed to peel me off the shower floor and into bed.
Christmas morning came. I felt a lot of guilt. Guilt for not being able to be present with my family. If it wasn't for Ryan, the kids would have had NO Christmas presents. Planning and shopping for gifts was so far beyond what I was mentally and physically capable of. And I felt bad for that but even that guilt just added to the weight. I remember just sitting on the couch watching as Ryan took a few pictures of Heidi holding Cami on the floor in front of our Christmas tree, all of the presents that he had bought and wrapped for them laying in the background. Crying because I wasn't "there" and I knew it and I didn't know how to change that. It just felt like I was watching a movie or something. I was in the audience and my life was just playing on the screen, passing me by. And that this was forever.
The rest of the day was filled with more obligations, expectations, exhaustion, loneliness and isolating thoughts (and disappointment and some hurt feelings on top of all of that)... we walked through the door after our scheduled activities for the day and I could hardly even make it to the shower. I think I was walking but on the inside it felt more like I was crawling. All the way from our garage into the shower. Spilling from the tile, over the ledge and onto the shower floor. Like I was in liquid form ("Secret World of Alex Mac" anyone?)
More hysterical and uncontrollable sobbing. Running around in circles in my head. Unable to come up with a solution. Or convince myself that there was even a reason to stop crying. Or get up off the shower floor. How can I stop feeling like this? Is this my every day now? Is this just because I can't "handle" 3 kids? Can't handle the work and responsibility that comes with that? Maybe that's what it is. But I didn't even ask for this. I didn't WANT another baby right now. This isn't even my fault. I love her and I don't wish her away but I just wasn't ready. Why would God think this timing is okay?? Why the EFF would He chose then and now for all of this? I feel so alone. Like I just want to jump out of my own skin but I can't. Almost like, I'm covered in something gross but I can't get it off. Like I'm icky and want to leave my body on the floor of the bathroom like I leave my dirty clothes after a long day. I remember looking Ryan in the eyes...we both didn't know what do to. Do we go to the hospital?? We asked each other. We didn't know. I didn't even know where we would go. In those moments, to me, all I could think about was how to stop feeling like this. How could I never feel like this again? Ending my life was a thought, but I honestly didn't feel like I was TRULY capable of that. And even though that "fantasy" was present, the thoughts of actual suicide didn't bring me any feelings of relief (which, if they did I would have expressed that to Ryan out loud. I'm grateful that through all of this our communication abilities with each other remained strong.) Though I wanted nothing more than to just crawl into a hole and disappear forever. To stop existing. To stop the pain. I had thoughts of escaping (which is common with PPD). Maybe I could run away. Get in my car. Go alone. Drive away forever. But wait. No. I would probably miss my baby too much. Maybe I could bring her with me?? Ugh no that also sounds like too much...I think I'm stuck feeling this way. It's Christmas... New Years... everyone is busy... therapist is out of town, doctor's office is closed...and my last appointment there sucked anyway... is there an answer to all of this? Anyone on this planet who can even help me right now? Help me ever? No... no I don't think there is anyone... I'm stuck here... I just want to crawl in a hole and never come out ever again... I never want to feel I just want to disappear...
Again, somehow Ryan managed to get me off of the shower floor and into bed. At some point prior to this episode, I had googled hospitals/psych wards/postpartum relief methods. I even had this website opened in a tab on my phone, but sadly it had slipped my mind that this even existed because if there was ever a time that I needed immediate help it was in those moments on the floor of the shower. Bleeding and sobbing. I wish I had remembered or been more aware that calling a hotline was an option because we definitely would have and should have taken advantage of that.
The next day I wrote down a few more thoughts...
"12/26 -
I have so many feelings of just not being able to be normal. Do normal things. Live a normal functional life let alone feel joy. Find happiness in motherhood, my kids. Just want to crawl into a hole and never come out. I want to leave my body.
I've been waiting for relief. Waiting and waiting. For a year. When will relief come?
I desperately wanted(/want) to find true joy and happiness and contentment in motherhood, in my children... I felt like I had been waiting and waiting and WAITING. Because 2017 was just SO hard, I was waiting then and I was still waiting now. WHEN will I feel relief? Joy? When will this season end already??
Either that day or the next day (12/26 or 12/27) I called my OB to schedule an appointment about the bleeding but also mentioned the postpartum stuff as well. The office wasn't able to see me until about 10 days later, but they went ahead and called in a prescription for Zoloft. I didn't really want to start taking it until I had explored other potential paths/issues (ex. like getting my thyroid tested) and I had actually had a chance to have that conversation with my OB and also my therapist. I definitely don't want to jump the gun with taking medication, but went ahead and filled the prescription just so we already had it on hand. (I was trying really hard to be open to the idea of taking meds. My two biggest hesitations with starting Zoloft were: 1.) It doesn't start "working" right away and takes a little bit of time to take effect. 2.) I don't like the idea of meds that I can't just stop whenever I feel like. I don't want to rely on something to the point of having to wean myself off of it, whenever that time came.) Anyway, I wanted to be open to meds but told myself that I wouldn't start taking Zoloft until I had talked to my therapist and OB and exhausted other paths/("natural") options. For me personally, daily medication will always be a last resort, after exploring other options, and not the first thing I just automatically jump to. (Also, I wanted to make sure something else weird wasn't going on - like, a thyroid issue, severe hypoglycemia, an anatomical issue...etc.) However, I didn't want to put myself at any further risk though, so we did decide that if another major breakdown happened that I would start taking it right away. So we waited.
In the mean time, I sent my therapist (who was out of state at the time) a message to keep her in the loop.
Luckily, all of these MAJOR breakdowns happened while Ryan was off work for the holidays. He maybe had to go in once or twice between Christmas and New Years. We had some really good friends of ours come into town and stay with us just for a fun visit for the last few days of December which I am SO grateful for. It was a really great distraction and felt so good to spend time with them. Once the new year had clicked over I noticed that I was starting to feel a tad bit better but I was still fearful that it wouldn't last and things would come crashing down again. I was SO glad to kick 2017 to the curb and welcome in a new year, but I also know that just because there is a different number at the end of the date doesn't automatically change the season of life that you are in. I didn't want to put a lot of weight or hope in that, but it still made me feel a little better I think.
On January 2nd, we started a round Whole30. (We've done it once before shortly after I had Wells and Ryan and I both benefited really positively from the results.) I personally believe that eating lots of processed, unnatural, chemical-filled and sugar-loaded foods can affect how we feel physically and mentally in a very negative way. Even though I'm sure it looked terrible on paper (PPD + Whole30??) we decided to give it a go because I knew it would help me feel a little bit better and also balance out my hormones a little bit. As tough as Whole30 can be, I knew it would pay off. But we also went into it knowing that if things got TOO hard emotionally that I would need to stop.
On January 5th I had an appointment with my OB. She did bloodwork and an ultrasound (during which time she said "You have very pretty anatomy!" - some affirmation I don't think she realized how desperately I needed even if it was just referring to the way my uterus is laid out haha.) Even though I still felt like our conversations were very black and white, I at least felt like I was heard and that my "issues" weren't swept under the rug or minimized (which PPD should NEVER EVER be but continues to be). Upon leaving the appointment, I think it was "expected" that I start taking meds and my OB prescribed me a littler higher dose than what had originally been prescribed over the phone. However, I still wanted to give my body ONE more chance to work itself out and also I wanted to meet with my therapist as well. I told myself - ONE more episode. One more major breakdown. And that's it. Then I would know that my body couldn't sort this out on it's own. One more chance.
January 7th I went on another run (my first since THE December 23rd run...) I was feeling good enough and felt like IF I started bleeding the next day I was prepared for it and would be okay (thought I wasn't 100% about that part...) I knew another period and mental breakdown the following day were both VERY strong possibilities, so I was bracing myself (however you do that...) I ran 2 miles and then stopped about a half a mile from our house. As I was walking home, I started looking around. I felt my eyes open. I saw the sun setting and I saw the trees around me. It was as if in one single moment, I just snapped out of it. I suddenly felt like I was seeing for the first time in a year. I've never experienced anything like that in my entire life and I certainly wasn't expecting a single moment of clarity like this. I had this sudden feeling of "I'm going to be okay." I wish I was able to verbalize more what this was actually like to feel, but I have no words. It was such an intense and powerful feeling, I can't describe it any other way. "You're going to be okay.... I think I'm going to be okay. I'm okay..." It was one single moment. God told me that I was going to be okay. It didn't even matter if I started bleeding the next day or not - I knew I would be okay. (But you know what? I didn't start bleeding the next day. In fact, ever since that day - I have had 6 perfect 28 day cycles. So regular that they come on the same day even within the same HOUR each month. It's nuts. I can't believe what a gift that has been and I feel so much gratitude and so much more connected with my body. I'm proud and respectful of what my body is capable of, and that doesn't stop with my periods/natural cycle.)
A few days later I had a therapy session, which felt good to offload all of this on my therapist. I was also happy that she reciprocated my desire to give things one more chance before I started taking the Zoloft. She also let me know, that there still could be some fluctuations in my hormones/emotions and to not be surprised if I experienced some more "dips". And that even if the "dips" were't "husband-peeling-me-off-the-shower-floor" dips, that if I got SICK of the unpredictability of that or of those fluctuations in general that meds were okay.
The day after my therapy session, we saw a rainbow outside. This was a very real and visible thing that I knew that God was showing me. I knew that He was specifically reminding me that He had not forgotten me, and that He would hold up His promise to take care of me. Even though I had been feeling so forgotten and abandoned, I finally FELT his presence again. This was the moment when I cried. I cried because I knew it was over. I cried because I saw Him. And I felt His promise again. And I knew that I was going to be more than just okay.
It's so crazy to actually put the timeline down on "paper". There were months and months of isolation, loneliness and depression during my pregnancy and postpartum, but it really was "only" about 6-8 weeks of total chaos. That just doesn't LOOK like that long (and honestly, for a lot of people who experience this for months and months, 8 weeks still isn't even the half of it). But to me, those 3-4 months feel like that was almost a year of my life. It felt like an absolute eternity. I didn't feel like I was able to "see" my baby until she was over 3 months old. It felt like a lot of missing out at the time (and still does in a lot of ways). Once that switch flipped for me, I felt a new warmth towards my baby. I heard her crying and I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to comfort her and hold her. (Although, don't get me wrong I still have days where I'm like "Oh. My. GOSH. Please STOP crying!!!" She's a screamer.) But it FELT different inside once I started feeling better.
Since January, I've had good days and bad days, but I feel like usually it's no different than any other human being. Not everything is easy all the time, but that's just part of being a person. I still have off days occasionally, where getting out of bed feels impossible and I'm too depressed to move (usually after several nights of bad sleep) but usually I feel overwhelmed because I have TOO much to do (normal mom/human stuff), not because the things that I do have to do are just too much for me. I wish I could say that there is a specific recipe for "curing" postpartum depression, but there isn't. And even if there was it would still be different for everyone. For me, I think it was a combination of time, exercise/being active, working hard(er) to put better things in my body instead of just garbage, and faith. I can't say that I was especially prayerful during this time, or that I clung to God and still felt so close to Him or anything like that. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The only thing I could really cling to, was just knowing that I believed in Him, and that He existed. To be honest, I wasn't capable of much else. That's often how it goes with PPD.
So I don't really have some sort of big grand conclusion to this post. I'm okay now. Most days. About 2 months ago (7 months postpartum) I came across a midwife in Houston who has experience with postpartum sealing ceremonies. (Also known as "bone closing". This is not who I used, but I really love how postpartum sealing is explained on this website if you're curious.) I can't wait to share more about this experience (if I ever get around to it), but it was so incredibly healing and I really felt like I was able to officially close the chapter on my pregnancy, birth and postpartum experiences. Even though "postpartum" can mean a lot of different things when it comes to the time frame (for some people that means 3 months, for others it can mean a year and maybe for some it can mean even beyond that) I don't feel like I'm "postpartum" anymore. I DO feel like I'm breastfeeding but the side effects I usually experience from those hormones are at least familiar at this point and I know what to expect. There's an end to that as well. We've been in a really hard season as a family for a while now, but we have a lot of hope and are making some big changes that I'm really looking forward to. Things that probably should have happened way before all of this anyway. But we've learned a lot through this and grown even closer in our marriage and as a family. And I am grateful for that.
I feel like I have the knowledge now to be more proactive in the future with regards to preventing/treating postpartum depression (or even just postpartum "distress" if you will). I have plans for how I want to treat future pregnancies and the weeks following birth, as well as how I will treat those times in a more SACRED way - because they are SO so sacred and very much intertwined. And honestly, I am SO excited to (hopefully, God-willing) go through pregnancy and postpartum again soon. I don't really feel any fear when I think about possible "next times". I can't wait to discover new ways to honor those experiences, and show my respect for those times as well as my body and my babies. I feel like our society really and seriously ignores the sacredness of the postpartum period and there is a serious lack of respect for it. This is SO detrimental. I hope that with more and more women being open about their experiences we can start to change that.
So, I guess my message is for those out there who are experiencing this, as well as to just help others to understand what this is like. To those IN it - you're not alone. It's not your fault. It's nothing you did or didn't do. You could not have prepared for this in any way. It's something that's happening inside your body. And it's not forever. Seek help. Find friends and people that you trust. Write down what you can. Re-read old journal entries or prayers from previous seasons of your life if you have them. Don't be afraid if the paths seem to be leading you towards medication. Do NOT be ashamed and talk about it as MUCH as you can possibly stand even if you're in the middle of it. Because that in itself will open so many doors of conversation and help you to feel not so alone. I am here for you and happy to help in any way that I can. I am not a therapist but can offer advice for little things that you can do for yourself that helped me on harder days.
A few thank yous.
Thank you to those that I know - many friends and acquaintances and also MANY strangers. Thank you for reaching out to me. Thank you for your many messages, comments, texts, emails... Thank you for your openness. Thank you for sharing and for listening. Thank you.
Thank you to my babies, who have given me SO much love and even more grace over these last 9 months (although more like 18 months if you also count my pregnancy).
And thank you to my husband. As if 9 months of carrying me (and our family) wasn't enough...his endurance is astounding to me. His ability to be an unconditionally supportive, grace-filled spouse AND loving and present father (not to mention chef, housekeeper, taxi driver, scheduler, shopper, counselor, friend... among many other roles)... His unconditional love has been more than I could have ever imagined when I said yes to marrying him. If it wasn't for WHO my husband is as a person I would not have survived this.
Thank you for coming on this journey with me and for reading my whole story. I am so grateful. Thank you.
