I sat in my hospital bed, cradling my newborn son, with tears streaming down my face. However, these were not tears of joy. I was in despair, afraid and miserable. Wasn't this supposed to be the happiest day of my life? This child was planned, eagerly anticipated, and very much wanted. At least that's what I thought.
My first pregnancy had been relatively easy, once the morning sickness subsided after the first trimester. I went into labor a few days before my due date, and I hoped for an easy delivery and a wonderful birth experience. Thirty hours later I was undergoing a C-section for failure to progress. My son had some respiratory issues and was whisked away to the NICU.
Nothing had gone as I anticipated. My baby was fussy and wouldn't nurse, my incision was extremely painful, and I was exhausted. Everyone kept telling me I would feel better once I got some sleep. But I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had somehow failed.
A feeling of heaviness descended upon me, and I couldn't eat or sleep. I didn't want any visitors and I didn't want to see my baby. I didn't know what was happening to me, but I knew something was wrong and I was scared. Hospital staff and my family brushed it off as exhaustion and the "baby blues". Everyone assured me I would be fine and said these feelings would soon pass. This was 21 years ago and I had never heard of post partum depression.
However, these feelings only got worse once I was home. I was anxious, I couldn't stop crying, and I wished I had never had a baby. I felt so guilty about having these feelings, and I tried to make up for them by being excessively diligent about caring for my son. I obsessed over how much he ate and slept. I made charts tracking when he ate, slept, peed, and pooped that covered the refrigerator and counters. I felt my emotions were completely out of control and I wanted my old life back.
Meanwhile, I still was having great difficulty sleeping and eating. That heaviness I first felt in the hospital was growing worse. It felt like I had been attacked by the Dementors from the Harry Potter books. All the joy had been sucked out of my world. No one could tell me what was wrong with me. I started to notice family and friends exchanging worried glances when I would dissolve into tears over nothing. My grandmother told me to grow up and "snap out of it". Nothing relieved this darkness that I felt was swallowing me whole.
When my son was 4 weeks old I decided to go visit my mother, who lived about an hour away. I felt I had to get out of the house before I lost my mind. I was driving on the interstate, crying, and found myself thinking about letting the car cross the median into oncoming traffic. I wanted relief from this depression and pain, and I was desperate enough to consider ending my life.
Fortunately, my son was with me and I could not fathom hurting him. I made it to my mother's house and told her what I had been thinking. She told me to go take a nap, and to stop being so dramatic. I had a beautiful baby and had absolutely nothing to be upset about.
Meanwhile the depression continued and I struggled through the days, caring for my son but watching the clock til my husband came home, and I could just crawl into bed and cry. My OB was shocked when she saw me at my 6 week postpartum visit. I had lost the 25 lbs I gained during the pregnancy plus an additional 10 lbs. I was a small person to begin with and now I was gaunt. I had big dark circles under my eyes, my hair and skin were dull, and I sobbed through the entire appointment.
I begged her to admit me to the hospital, so they could find out what was wrong with me. Instead, she sent me right over to a wonderful psychiatrist who specialized in women's mood disorders. He told me I was experiencing postpartum depression (PPD). Finally! My feelings had a name. I wasn't being weak and I wasn't crazy. I had never heard of PPD before. It was never discussed in pre-natal classes and my OB had never mentioned it to me.
My psychiatrist prescribed an anti-depressant and saw me twice a week for therapy. He also steered me towards a peer led support group of other women who had had the same experience as me. I no longer felt alone. Within 3 weeks my mood started to brighten and I felt a part of the world again. I will never forget the day, 5 weeks after first seeing the psychiatrist that I fell in love with my baby. I had just finished feeding him when the flow of tears started. This time, they were tears of joy. I couldn't stop hugging and kissing him, saying "I love you, I love you" over and over again. I finally felt like a mother, and not a failure.
It is though that postpartum depression affects anywhere from 10%-25% of all women after childbirth. Most women have some sort of transient depression, more commonly known as postpartum or baby blues, which passes within days or a week. Postpartum depression is characterized by mood changes, sleep and eating disturbances, frequent crying, detachment from the baby, and feelings of hopelessness. PPD responds well to both pharmacological and non-pharmacological treatments. It can be mild or severe. Screening and education are key to recognition and prompt treatment of this disorder. No woman should suffer through weeks or months of depression and anxiety following the birth of a child.
