Let’s Talk PPD

Can we talk postpartum depression?

When I got pregnant, it was my biggest fear. Next to weight gain, ppd was that monster in my closet, just waiting to climb into bed with me when the lights went out. As someone with a colorful mental health history checkered with everything from substance abuse to actual abuse and suicidal tendencies, I decided to get proactive about preventing the big bad from getting me. Or so I thought. I got counselors. Put "safe spaces" in place. I created a phone tree plan and spoke openly and honestly about my fears and needs to anyone who would listen. Then, the trauma that was my delivery happened. Bringing my baby girl into the world was the hardest and scariest time of my life. Afterward, I honed in on red flags, missed signs, and mistakes made that at any point could have cost one or both of our lives, and the spiral down began. I tried to push through, telling myself and others that it's was fine because we both made it out safe, and I had this beautiful baby to show for it, but inside, something was cracked. Something unseen was damaged, and the new baby snuggles just weren't pushing it away. Recovery from a c section is tough, especially when you do 27 hours of natural labor and pushing first . My body swelled as the days passed, and my mental depreciated. Again, I told myself I was OK. I took pictures and reveled in this new little human we made all while telling myself your ok. But I'm not. I smile and laugh, but inside, it feels like I'm 2 inches tall, standing in a dark room with my hands raised, begging for someone to pick me up, yet no one can even see me. The Dr. asks, if I'm okay, and I fill out all the questionnaires just honestly enough that they know I see a change in myself but not so honest that they scoop in and take my baby. Watching women of color lose babies to the system, I refused to let what I was going through put me on their radar, so I kept trucking along. Little by little I smile less, I talk less, I cry more, I disappear behind my motherhood only having enough happy to give one of us so I save it all for this little angel who didn't ask to be here but deserves every advantage I can provide. I pour my every breath into her both physically and emotionally, nurturing her happiness only to lay awake at night, realizing there is nothing left for myself. I expressed to my husband, who I now regularly pick at and cry over that these feelings of uselessness and frustration are consuming me, and I can't see a way out. I can see the concern on his face but I can also tell as much as he loves us he is tired in his own right and I immediately feel guilty for laying my burdens at his feet and once again retreat into myself. I know all the statistics about ppd, I have an amazing village, I have all the tools of a young self aware mother yet here I am alone in the bathroom the only place no one is touching or pulling from me fighting back the tears because once they start I don't know if they will ever stop. I didn't know what postpartum me would be like, but I never imagined I would be surrounded by love yet the loneliest I've ever felt. I didn't imagine I would have to convince myself to engage my friends or beg for God for the pandemic isolation to end so that I could feel safe being out in the world. My 4 walls that once made me feel so warm now remind me of the silence that comes when there is no other adult interaction for hours, and the quiet is deafening. My beautiful daughter is growing and thriving somehow in the midst of the storm I find myself in and I know I have to climb out of this place not for her but for myself so that I can be the mother I desire to be and continue growing as the woman I envision myself as. You can't pour from an empty cup, I know, but what I'm learning is that you can't fill up a cup that's cracked either. I can't give back to myself until I heal this vessel, and I'll be honest most days I don't even know how. Does anyone else know how I feel? Are you currently experiencing this? Just know I'm rooting for us. I'm praying for us. And I am hopeful that one day, the fog will lift, and the darkness will be just another chapter in our stories.

Xoxo