Today I want to talk about something that I personally believe is not talked about enough; Postpartum Depression. I am now a new mother of a handsome almost three month old . As a writer it is hard to describe the fullness of my heart and overwhelming love I have for my son in the most perfect of words. Just know that it is more than anyone can comprehend, even myself. The first day he entered this world was one of the happiest days of my life and also most exhausting. It was a day of rest and smiling at the beautiful blessing God created for my husband and I. But every day after that, was hard. It was not until the second day and every moment after leaving the hospital that I realized that I have no idea what I am doing. I knew the basics and was trying to practice them. Feed him, change him, hold him, burp him, and most importantly love him. Simple right? Wrong. I could not distinguish his cries. I did not know what he wanted or needed. And what was worse was the fact that if you were unsure, other people would tell you, “sometimes they cry to cry”. How was I supposed to know or fix that?

I tried my best, just like I do every day. But what do you do when you go through all the basic answers to crying? Feed him, change him, hold him, burp him, love him. Feed him, change him, hold him, burp him, love him. Nothing I was doing was soothing him. Nothing. He would not stop crying. He would stop for nothing. I did everything I could in a constant cycle. I was so tired and hungry and overwhelmed. I did not know what to do. I put him down in his bassinet and listened to his screams. I was told to walk away for a moment to collect my thoughts if need be. When I did that all I felt was guilt. I wept quietly and came right back. I tried to remain calm and put on a smile. I asked my baby in a pleading voice to stop crying and that everything is okay because I am here. Nothing I did worked. He just screamed louder.

I had to call my friend to come over and help me because I did not know what to do. She took awhile to come over and in that time of me waiting for her a lot of things happened. I put myself across the room from my crying son and started tugging my hair and sobbing uncontrollably. I fell asleep thinking of ways to get him to stop crying. In my sleep I dreamt about shutting him up for good. I dreamt of pressing the pillow to his face until he could not breathe anymore. Then he would stop crying and then I could sleep and everything would be okay. I woke up with a jerk and started crying again. I ran to the bassinet where my baby was to check if he was okay. Did I actually smother him? No. It was a dream. And although it was a dream it was the darkest moment of my life. I dreamt, no I thought about smothering my son. Me. I thought that. I was a monster. I don’t deserve to be his mother. I am unfit for this. I need to give him away and run away and end my life because how could I think that? How could I dream that? What was wrong with me? Why can’t I figure it out? Even now I am crying remembering that moment. It was a moment of darkness, shame and feeling crazy.

My friend finally came over and miraculously my son stopped crying and fell asleep. She hugged me and I cried on her shoulder. That’s when I knew I needed help. My husband came home later and all I could think was, ‘How am I supposed to tell him? What am I supposed to say?’ God love this man because he rocked the baby to sleep and hugged me tight. He told me everything was going to be okay and I was going to get help because I needed to be okay for my son. He massaged me and fixed up a warm bubble bath for me. He let me sleep a blissful 8 hours and in the morning we made an appointment to see my midwife who prescribed me with antidepressants. She told me that I was not crazy and almost every mom goes through this. She told me that I am not a bad mom, I am doing the best I can and will continue to do so. Postpartum depression is real and it is terrifying.

With my postpartum I had intrusive thoughts about how I am a terrible mother and I am not cut out to be a mom. Thoughts about the impossible. About things that were less likely to happen. I thought about every time we got in a car how we would all die or my baby would somehow die. I thought about a burglar breaking into our house while we were asleep and planting a bomb or stealing my baby in the dead of night. All of these ridiculous thoughts were in my head and coming at me nonstop. I thought about how if anything were to happen to my baby I would either go to jail or kill myself. Because there was no way I would want to live in a life without my precious angel. I would always get annoyed when people would tell me about postpartum depression and how if I have thoughts about harming my baby I need to tell someone. While that is important, all I could think of was, ‘Why would anyone think about harming their baby?’ I had incessant thoughts about something happening to my baby that was out of my control. I wanted to control every situation to make sure no harm would come to him. It’s a nice thought in its own way, but unrealistic. 

I didn’t understand PPD and sometimes I still don’t. But after awhile the thoughts wouldn’t stop. I thought about risking my life for him in any way I can. I thought about how my own life was meaningless without him even though I had the support and love of my friends and family. But that one day was all it took for me to understood what they talked about when those people said to get help if you have PPD. I never thought I needed help. I thought maybe if there was a chance for me to get a little bit more sleep then I would be fine. I was wrong. Every woman tells you to sleep when the baby sleeps. No one talks about SIDS or sudden infant death syndrome and how every mother is terrified of that happening ESPECIALLY when they are sleeping. How could we sleep knowing it could happen any moment? I couldn’t. I used to take shifts with my husband every night to make sure he was okay. We sacrificed our sleep and mental health for reassurance, but it was making us crazier. By us, I mean me. Lack of sleep is a HUGE contributor to postpartum depression.

Postpartum depression is real and it is a real problem. If I did not get the help I needed I have no idea where I would be or what I would have done.  A lot of women are shamed for having it or taking medication for it, but they shouldn’t be. We aren’t bad moms. This is a common problem and we need to recognize it and get help and practice self-love. We are brave and fierce and loving women especially when it comes to our kids. Just like we believe our kids can do anything, so can we. I can’t say that I now know what I am doing. I can’t say that I have all the answers, but I know that I will be okay. Self-love and taking care of your mental health is so important. I cannot stress that enough. I was against taking medication for myself because I believed that I could handle it on my own and I was wrong. Ever since I started taking antidepressants and talking to others about how I was feeling, I have started to feel a lot better. I am mentally sane and able to take care of my son. I am able to have the patience I need and provide for him in any way I can. I am getting to know him and love him more and more every day. I can’t imagine staying in the dark about my PPD and suffering another day more. There are all kinds of help out there for people who understand what we are going through and who have been where we are at. Take medication, get counseling, spend time away from everyone and do what you want to do, go to mommy support groups. Do what you need to do to get better. You are not alone. I am so glad I know that for myself now. I am not a bad mother. I am not alone. As long as I try my best every day I will not fail my son. Never be afraid to reach out and ask for help.