Postpartum Depression (PPD). I said it. I have been thinking about this post for such a long time and kept getting stuck on how and where to begin. But whether or not I have the perfect opening to the post, the goal is to share my journey in hopes of connecting with those who are in the midst of it, have walked through it or are just curious about this thing that affects so many Moms.

PPD is not something I knew much about. I’ve heard it’s something that could happen after the birth of a child, but I always thought of it as this thing that doesn’t happen often because I hadn’t heard a single Mother that I knew talk about it. I read about it in passing once I got pregnant, but I mostly read about the severe sign to look for- a desire to hurt your child. That’s what PPD was in my mind and that is why it took so long for me to recognize that I was in the middle of a dark tunnel that was filling up with water and no life vest in sight.

After months and months of crying on and off, at home, in public, with reason and no reason, and blaming it on “baby blues,” I was walking to work on a chilly November morning; a beautiful day, with people mingling outside coffee shops, kids running down the sidewalk, the sound of Brooklyn traffic around me. All seems peaceful and perfect, but in my mind, there was a raging war. I felt like no matter what, I was losing and victory was not possible. 

I had a fairly easy pregnancy in terms of how I felt mentally and physically. I did have gestational diabetes (more about that later), but I didn’t have a single minute of nausea (a fair trade off in my opinion). Up until the week before I delivered, I went to work, cooked, shopped, etc. My diabetes was managed with diet and I (and baby) was monitored on a weekly basis towards the end of my pregnancy to make sure we were both healthy. So, the diabetes was a bump in the road, but overall all was good. The last week of pregnancy was difficult because my amniotic fluid levels continued to rise (instead of decrease like usual), so I ended up being on bed rest because it became very very difficult to walk. The last few weeks of pregnancy was spent drooling over all the sugar and carbs I was going to eat and planning my first meal post birth. I did not, even for a second, think I needed to read more about PPD because it was not on my radar of possibilities. I am generally a happy person and handle stress really well. Depressed is not close to what I would use to describe myself.

After a very eventful(traumatic) birth (more about this later) and five days in the hospital, I was listening to my nurse give me the discharge spiel. She said it’s normal to cry, but it it happens everyday for a few weeks, it could be PPD. It’s okay to be sad, but if I want to harm myself or my baby, I need to call 911. That seemed extreme and I heard it, but didn’t think it applied so I quickly filed it under “information not needed” and continued to focus on finally going home!

It’s hard to say at what point the switch happened from baby blues to PPD, and it’s hard to say exactly what contributed to it most (I do have some ideas I’ll share in the future). But that crisp November morning, the though of suicide by city bus crossed my mind in a manner that should have scared me…but it brought me peace. I envisioned myself in front of the bus and this did. not. scare. me. About an hour later, I was in my office and suddenly, it DID scare me and it hit me– I AM NOT OKAY. I NEED HELP. I frantically started looking for a therapist in the area who took my insurance, who would be convenient for me on the way to daycare pick up, and I have to say, it was so disheartening. I could not find anyone who fit this criteria! I started to feel hopeless once again. I did have a therapist I liked and was very comfortable with, however her office was located by Central Park, which would mean I couldn’t do daycare pick up. I don’t know why I thought this was an issue…but in the midsts of my hopelessness, I didn’t even think to ask my husband about working out the logistics! I think this is a contributing factor why so many do not get help— IT TAKES SO MUCH ENERGY and TIME (something new Mom’s don’t have much of) to coordinate. Of coarse after sharing this with my husband, he immediately said I should go back to my therapist and he would figure out work and daycare pick up. This was like a load lifted off my back– I was finally going to get help from someone I trust. 

Therapy didn’t start until mid-December– and I will share what I learned and my healing journey from then to now..but another day, another post. 

If you think you might have PPD, take this screening and share results with your doctor: http://www.fresno.ucsf.edu/pediatrics/downloads/edinburghscale.pdf