Postpartum What?

We've all heard of postpartum depression, right? Whether it's because you have struggled with it yourself or because you heard about the Tom Cruise vs. Brooke Shields mess, you've at least been exposed to the fact that it exists. If you aren't well informed, it's pretty easy to infer what it is...depression after the birth of a child, to put it very simply. Being a mother of three and a person who has, at times, struggled with feelings of depression or anxiety, I have always considered myself pretty well aware of postpartum depression.

Hormones after having a baby are pretty crazy, let's be honest. I remember after Diva Girl was born I definitely had the "baby blues". On the third day after her birth we were being discharged from the hospital. And I remember crying and thinking "Oh no! They are going to let me take this child home? I have no idea what I am doing! I don't want to go home, I don't think I can do this. This baby cries like a pterodactyl for goodness sakes!"

Who wouldn't be terrified of this, right?!

We took her home and after a couple of days my hormones seemed to calm down to their normal freak out levels. Though initial bonding was difficult (some of which I attribute to my emergency c-section), I quickly fell head over heels in love with this little girl and began to feel confident as a mother. All was well with the world.

Then, 3 years later, along came Rascal. We had just gotten Diva Girl's diagnosis less than 4 months prior, and I was definitely already emotionally fragile. I had even been referred to a psychologist during my pregnancy to help me deal with everything (unfortunately, she was kind of awful and I may have lied to her a lot and then stopped showing up to appointments. She probably should have called me after that.) I remember bringing him home from the hospital and again feeling completely overwhelmed. My freak out this time sounded a bit more like "What were we thinking?! We've ruined Diva Girl's life. Which means we've ruined all our lives. And why does the baby keep looking at me like that? I think he hates me. I'm a horrible mother!" Imagine this inner dialog over the sounds of Diva Girl screaming like a banshee, and that pretty much sums it up.

If you look closely, you can see the panic in my eyes!

But again, within the week it seemed like he had been around forever and my fears subsided. Months later, I did fear that I was going through postpartum depression, but it turned out that I had a vitamin D deficiency and hypothyroidism, both of which can cause depression. Once I took care of those things, I was back to my usual levels of worry and anxiety.

And now we come to baby number three, my sweet Vlad. He was born in the comfort of our home, so I have no fun story of the day we brought him home from the hospital. I remember feeling calmer this time around, more comfortable, more like he just slid into the pre-existing chaos that is our lives. And goodness are our lives chaotic. During my pregnancy with Vlad, Rascal was diagnosed with autism, and we became special needs parents two times over. So I was surprised this time to find myself thinking "We're going to be ok! Sure they outnumber us now, but we can do this. Plus, he's the easiest baby we've ever had." Still, I knew that due to circumstance and a pre-disposition towards depression, that I should "keep an eye" on my emotional well being. 

He TRIED to keep an eye on me. 

I never expected THIS. I didn't really know about the full range of postpartum mood disorders. So I kept thinking to myself "Well, I'm not depressed. I don't know what is wrong with me, but I'm not depressed!" 

Sure, I'm not depressed. But I'm always worried. I've had panic attacks where my heart feels like it is going to jump out of my chest. My stomach is in knots. I feel so anxious sometimes that it is actually a physical pain. There are days when I can't seem to get anything done because I am frozen with anxiety. I thought that I knew what it was like to be anxious, and I'd even had panic attacks before, but nothing like this. This was constant, it was eating away at me, it was overwhelming.

I don't know why I am writing about this tonight, I only know that I felt very strongly like I should. Maybe it's because someone else needed to see it. Maybe it's because I needed other people to know. Maybe it's because it's been a bad anxiety day (thank God, they are getting fewer and farther between) and I just wanted to write it all out in the hopes that some of the anxiety will find its way out through my fingertips as I type. I don't know.

I do know that I am grateful. For the friends and family who have been there for me. For my therapist, who is amazing. For my husband, who is a saint. For the simple fact that knowing what is "wrong" can do wonders for my ability to cope.

If you read this and recognize yourself in it, know that you aren't alone. You can get help here to start with. And I am always here with a listening ear. And if you have no idea what I'm talking about? I pray you never will!