The link below is the story of a Mom who lost the battle of Postpartum Depression. Below the link is my story. Thanks for taking the time to read, and feel free to share. The goal is to reach others who may be suffering from the same problem.
http://www.foreverymom.com/she-took-her-life-after-suffering-from-postpartum-depression-in-silence-now-her-family-is-speaking-out-to-help-others/
I haven't been very open about my experience with Postpartum Depression. Most of you probably didn't even know I had it. After reading this story about Allison, I felt like I had an obligation to share my story....I'm sad for her, that she wasn't able to get through it, but unfortunately, I completely understand why. I just wish her outcome was better. I'll be praying for her daughter, as well as the rest of her family. This can't be easy for any of them.
This is absolutely going to be the hardest blog I've ever written, but if it can help even one Mom, then it'll be worth it.
My battle began February 16, 2013 at 9:36 pm. I had been in labor for more than 15 hours. I finally reached the finish line after pushing for 2 hours. I heard a cry. Emerie was born. I saw Jared's face and my Mom's, and they were so joyful. They were looking at me, probably expecting to see happiness all over me. Why wouldn't they? That's the normal reaction. I was kind of in a state of shock. I don't remember what anyone was saying, just the looks on everyone's faces. The room was filled with so much cheery vibes, yet the feeling stopped at me. Why was I not smiling, or crying, or anything? I was numb. They put Emerie on my chest. It's not that I didn't love her, because at that moment I knew I would stop at nothing to protect her, and be there for her. I just didn't feel that motherly connection that everyone talks about. I wasn't excited. I wasn't overjoyed. I was very anxious. I was nervous. I couldn't shake this feeling like something bad was going to happen to her. Every time the nurses had to take her out of the room I panicked. I didn't want to let anyone (not even Jared) hold her. I hated every second of someone else holding her. Not just because I wanted to be the one to hold her, but because I was scared something was going to happen to her. Someone was going to drop her, or she'd choke, or she would stop breathing. I didn't tell anyone how I was feeling at the hospital, I should have, but I didn't. I kind of assumed I'd feel better once we got home. That was the farthest thing from the truth. Emerie was a month early, and very small, so I figured that was probably why I was feeling this way. She'd had jaundice and lost quite a bit of weight in the hospital, so I was just paranoid for those reasons. Once we got Emerie home, things just got worse for me, and her. She had colic really bad. I was trying to breastfeed, because I was told that was what I was suppose to do. I felt like I would be considered a bad Mom if I quit. So I continued to try and breastfeed her. She screamed 24/7. She rarely latched. She didn't sleep. I didn't sleep. She cried. And cried. And cried. I cried, and screamed into pillows a lot. Why was it not working???? So Jared and I agreed that we should start her on formula. We did that and I just felt so bad. She didn't like the formula, so then I felt like I made a huge mistake by quitting breastfeeding, so I started pumping again. I hated it. But I hated her being on formula even more. Even drinking breast milk, she still cried constantly. We finally found a formula that she could tolerate, therefore I quit breastfeeding completely. I cried constantly. Jared assured me that it was okay to not breastfeed, but that wasn't even all that I was upset about. I didn't even know what was wrong half the time. The housework fell far behind. Laundry piled up. I rarely showered, wore makeup, brushed my hair or teeth. Yeah, gross. But to be honest, I didn't even have the energy to care about any of it. The little energy I did have went into taking care of Emerie. She was always clean and fed. My whole entire life was falling apart. I missed Church more than I attended. I lost touch with pretty much all of my friends. I didn't want to hang out or go anywhere. I dreaded having to leave the house. I had migraines all of the time. I slept a lot. I just had the heaviest feeling no matter what I did. I prayed a lot, but eventually my prayers almost felt pointless, so I just stopped all together. Anytime I tried to do a devotion or anything, I would quit because I just couldn't summon the energy to get anything out of it. My relationship with Jared was pretty much non existent. Not from anything he did or didn't do. I just pushed him away. He never treated me any different, but I could tell he was worried. He worked, did the housework, laundry, everything. The only thing I did was take care of Emerie. Sometimes I was so tired of taking care of her 24/7 that I just wanted to go somewhere by myself for awhile. Jared offered a lot for me to go, and him to watch her, but I didn't want to leave her. I couldn't leave her. I was her Mom, I had to be there for every second of every day. The depression got so bad at one point that I wanted to take my own life. I thought about it a lot. I even planned how I would execute it. Jared's gun was right there up in the closet. One bullet is all it would take to end the suffering for good. I could have my Mom come get Emerie, just tell her I needed a break. Leave a goodbye note explaining why I couldn't handle it anymore. Jared would probably do a better job without me in the picture anyway. I was just bringing him down. As Emerie would grow older, I'd drag her down too. I'd be holding my whole family back. It wasn't fair of me to put them through this any longer. Not to mention, I didn't want to go through it anymore either. I was exhausted. There was nothing left in me anymore. This planning and thought process went on for over a month. Finally, I just told Jared exactly what I was feeling. And that I knew that wasn't normal, and that I wanted to get help. We scheduled an appointment with my Doctor. She prescribed me an anti depressant. To be honest, it didn't help at all. If anything, it only made it worse. So I quit taking them. I think talking to Jared about it, and making him aware of what was going on, is what truly helped me. Had I not brought this to his attention, and had him to help me through this, I would have for sure taken my life. I'm not going to lie and say it went away, because it didn't go away for a long time. I just slowly started learning to deal with it. I wish now that I would have gotten extensive help, God knows I needed it. I wish I would have skipped the whole medication part and just went to a rehab or something. I was in way too deep. When Emerie was a year and a half, and we found out we were pregnant with Oliver is when I really started to blossom again. I felt like myself, finally. Oliver's labor and deliver, and postpartum was 100X better. I cried when he was born. I was so happy. I have an amazing connection with Emerie as well now. I trust that God has a plan and is in control. I still battle depression as well as anxiety, but it is a lot easier to manage now. My advice to anyone who ever feels the way I did after having a baby, seek help immediately! Do not ever wait even a day for it to get better. Depression will never just go away on it's own. Especially Postpartum Depression. It is a dangerous thing to have, and requires specialized help. Depression will just manifest itself in you, slowly but surely getting worse and worse. There will be days when you think it'll get better, but I promise you, it won't. Not without help. Don't ever take a chance. No one will think you are a bad Mom because you are suffering from Postpartum Depression. Your family will thank you for opening up about it and seeking help. Please don't make the mistake of trying to do it on your own. My story ended fine, but Allison's and many others, didn't. I seriously wish I would of been honest from that very first moment I knew something wasn't right. I wish I wouldn't have held it in for so long. I wish I could of enjoyed Emerie's first year without a haunted mind and spirit. I can't change it now, but I want to urge anyone feeling this way to let someone know. Anyone. Don't do this alone, I'm begging you. And don't ever feed into the lies. That's what depression does, it lies to you. It makes you feel worthless. Like nobody cares about you. Like you are alone in the world. The very moment you sense it, just tell someone right then. Tell someone before it has the chance to suck you in anymore. It can always get worse, and it will. Unless you make the choice to open up to someone and seek help. I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but it's important. Depression isn't a joke. Take it seriously. If you sense that someone else is going through it, get them help! Too many lives are ended because of this horrible illness. But there is hope.
*The picture to the left is my postpartum photo after having Emerie. The photo on the right is after having Oliver. I had makeup on in both pictures. You can see the depression so much in my eyes in the one after Emerie. The other picture, you can see the joy and happiness all over my face. It makes me sad to see myself the way I look in the left one, but it also is helpful to see how far I've come, and how much I've grown.
