then and now

I had post-partum depression after Claire was born.  I've mentioned it before, and shared some writing from that time in this post, but on the whole it is an experience I have a hard time talking about.  It's not hard because of shame or embarrassment; it's hard only because, while I remember the feelings of doom and gloom, there is a lot I can't convey with any specificity.  My amnesia is so significant that, every time I review photos of Claire during the first year of her life, I am grateful that I took them. They are reminders that while I was struggling, she was fine.  More than fine, really.  She was thriving.

There was one afternoon when she was six months old that does stick with me.  It had been a long day.  She was especially needy -- teething, I think -- and I had been looking for a job (and much-needed income) for several months without any luck.  I felt awful, and I knew that I'd been feeling awful for awhile.  Ron was struggling with his own challenges, on a steep learning curve in the first year of his residency, and I knew that coming home to a teary-eyed, anxious, overwhelmed wife was taking its toll on him as well.

He called that afternoon to say he was on his way home, and I decided I would ensure that when he walked in that door, I looked happy.  Not to say that I was happy, but I was going to fake it.  (Now, don't get all judgmental -- the basic idea of cognitive-behavioral therapy is that if you think you're happy and act like you're happy, eventually you'll be happy.  Psychology was on my side.)  I put on a CD with upbeat music and, just as I'd planned, when Ron walked in the door, Claire and I were dancing.  His smile of relief was genuine, even if my expression of joy was not.

It took about eight months after that to get my real grin back.

With Gage's birth, I was concerned that I might face depression again.  Very early, however, I could tell that some of the symptoms I'd had with Claire -- symptoms that I now know should have been glaring signals of something bigger -- were absent.  No obsessive-compulsive behaviors, no dread of the night, no feelings that I was an incompetent mother.  While I knew trouble could still develop, my instinct was that my experience this go around was within a normal range.

This afternoon, just as before, Ron called to say he was on his way home.  The hours before that had been challenging.  Gage wanted to either be attached to my boob or pressed next to my body, and nothing else would be tolerated.  Claire had her Valentine's party at preschool this morning and came home jacked up on the high that only copious amounts of pink sugar crystals can produce.  By the time he walked in the door, I had both kids on our bed with me.  Gage was nursing (again).  Claire and I had split the earbuds of the iPod and we were listening to upbeat music, singing and dancing as best we could while playing tug-of-war with the white cord.

This time, I wasn't putting on a boisterous display of happy for his sake.  I think I probably sighed and smiled weakly, relieved to have him home.  However, as difficult as this afternoon was, I also wasn't miserable.  I wasn't doubting myself or my ability to mother these children.  Exhausted?  Yes.  Touched out?  For sure.   But still able to laugh at myself when I told Claire she had something on that "area below her lip" and she came back with, "You mean my CHIN, mommy?"  Indeed.

It ain't perfect, but it's real.  And right now?  Real feels good.   

Comments

[stew]

That makes me smile, sweetie.

[Malia]

I totally know what you mean! You've described some points in my life, too and yes, real feels so much better! I'm glad you are feeling real these days!

[Steph.]

That is how it was with my second child also. I didn't suffer from horrible depression with my first, but I definitely had my moments of feeling overwhelmed and I clearly remember certain days that I know I had postpartum. Something about it--I guess it helps when you have had one and made it through all of that and you know things will be OK, it helps you to relax and take things as they come a little better. That's not to say it isn't hard, but for me it has been a different experience...

[Bethany]

I'm kind of going through the opposite experience--struggling after my second baby's birth though I was flying high with my first--and I'm glad you shared. We women tend to be so reluctant to divulge our struggles, but when we do, there is instant cameraderie and support... and that priceless feeling of "Oh. Maybe I'm not crazy after all." I'm so glad this postpartum time is easier for you!

[SueFromSC]

Thank you for this!

I was in the deep throws of PPD with my first. My second, I don't think I had completely recovered from my 1st and throw on top of that; building a house, moving to a new town, quitting my job, leaving my friends--yeah it got ugly but then I got help. With my third I was happy but then things started going downhill two or three years later...

Still trying to dig out but it always seems that when I start getting better, some HUGE life changing experience happens (ie--moving to a new state) and it all starts again.

I'm happy to report that I'm feeling pleasantly fine at the moment...uh-oh, must mean we're going to be moving soon ;)

[Old Horsetail Snake]

Let me join in the glee.....

[nadine AKA scarbiedoll]

I've been going through this exact same thing. We are nearly six months in with number 2 now and I don't see the signs. I watching to see if starting solids and taking in less breast milk may make my hormones drive me to insanity again. But so far, I'm really enjoying being a mom this time around.

Glad you've joined us on PD!

[Christina]

Wow, thanks for this post! I too suffered from PPD (hindsight is 20/20, no?) and hide it, told no one and felt horrid by myself (like some stupid badge of courage...)

I can remember the day I felt like I woke up from a long long sleep - Matthew was probably around 13 months old and I was like 'OMG I feel better finally'. I am pregnant with #2 & I am trying NOT to dwell on how things WERE with Matthew because this time I am prepared. I will not allow that depression to knock me down and kick my rear. We have a bigger community of support around us and I have more confidence overall.

I am not willing to be like that again for myself, my husband & Matthew. Finally my midwife knows what I went through with Matthew - she even apologized and said that now that she knows she can check with me after the birth of this child to be sure there are not signs - she said I will not let you get away from me this time. That seriously was SO reassuring that this medical professional was going to look out for me, and make sure I get the help I need!

There is no guarantee this I know but I am always SO happy to hear that other people have done through this (not in a mean way - in a thank goodness I am not the only one kind of way) because it feels SO lonely but that it can also perhaps NOT be the same way again.

Oh and eh ah HI, I am new BTW!