The first step

I’ve just recently admitted to Jeremy (and now the world, hello INTERNET!) that I am, that I have for months, been suffering from Post Partum Depression.  Just talking about it, actually putting my feelings and thoughts into words, has lifted an amazingly heavy weight from my shoulders.  It may sound cliche, but I really do feel like admission is the first step to recovery in my case.  Being a childbirth educator, I am schooled on the symptoms and warning signs of PPD, but it’s a pretty blurry line to cross.  PPD or baby blues, or just exhausted from lack of sleep?  Who knows? 

When Blythe was about 3 weeks old, it occured to me that I might be suffering from PPD.  I had only been out of the hospital following my post-partum hemorrhage for a few days, so I attributed my failure to cope with that.  Months went by, and I continued to struggle every day.  I know that I didn’t hide it well, I couldn’t have even if I tried, but I don’t think I ever let on to anyone just how very hard life was for me.  I was completely self-absorbed and struggled to hold even the shortest conversations.  The slightest hiccup in my day would send me into a downward spiral.  October came, Blythe was 5 months old, and I thought I was finally over the huge, invisible mountain I had been trying to climb every day.  It’s all down hill from here, right?  But then back down I went, on the wrong side of the mountain, over and over again.  I just couldn’t understand why.  Excuse after excuse went through my head, trying to make sense of all of the crazy thoughts and emotions that just WOULD NOT GO AWAY.  

Last week I fantasized about running away.  It’s what made me realize I DO have a problem, what made me have the courage to talk to Jeremy about it.  I don’t want to run away – I love my family, I love my life and I know, in my clearer moments, how good my life is.  But that doesn’t change the fact that it sometimes seems perfectly rational to me that my children and my husband would be better off if I weren’t around.

I love my husband, he is everything I never new I wanted in a mate.  I love Alison, and I love Blythe.  I love them in a way that I can’t even put into words.  But when I’m down, I struggle to feel.  I’m detached.  I’m easily irritated, easily distracted.  It’s easier for me to engage in mundane tasks that don’t require human interaction.  I get hyper-focused and the world comes crashing down around me when something breaks my concentration.  With a 4 year old and an infant around, I’m interrupted by someone or something about every 3 minutes, so you can imagine how pleasant I have been.  It breaks my heart that I am failing them (and myself, and everyone in my life) in so many ways.  The girls are taken care of, yes, but I know I’ve not been half the mother I could be.  That I used to be. 

I’ve been trying to read about other people’s struggle with PPD, and that has helped tremendously.  Knowing that I’m not alone in what I’m feeling helps me let go of some of the shame and guilt I’ve been feeling all this time.  It’s been so hard to cope with EVERY. SINGLE. THING. and feeling like people would look at me differently if they knew how I felt has kept me from talking about it.  Until now.  Because I can’t conquer this mountain alone!