postpartum depression

postpartum depression by Kerri Ann Sansom

All I remember was the darkness. It’s like my body and my mind were not connected. They were two entities performing two exhausting tasks at one time. My body was taking a cluster of cells and turning them into eyeballs and toe nails, while in my head there were intrusive thoughts, suicidal ideations on a weekly basis, and a frequent bleak numbness that consumed my soul. This should have been the most exciting time of my life! But it was just black. I had no idea what was happening to me but my hormones took me on a roller coaster I was not prepared for, and little did I know, it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

I knew that postpartum depression was a thing, but I was not aware of how prevalent it was, or that it can start while your baby is still in the womb. The sobering fact is that 1 in 7 women fall victim to this. That might not sound like a lot so let me put that into perspective. There were 3.6 million women who gave birth in 2020. That means that over 500,000 women that year suffered from postpartum depression. All while trying to enjoy one of the most precious gifts this life has to offer.

I could list the outside stressors that I was dealing with at the time, but I just don’t want to minimize or dismiss the ubiquitous nature of the illness I was suffering from. The fact of the matter is that my life felt like it was unrecognizable. I felt like I was an outsider witnessing a derailment of sorts and I couldn’t do anything to course correct. Words I thought but never shared at the time: “what the hell have I gotten myself into”, “I really screwed up”, “I have chosen to have a child and I’m not even happy about it. I am FOR SURE going to screw this kid up”. An unfit mother is all I saw when I looked in the mirror. That, along with an exhaustive condemnation with every pound I gained, or lost for that matter. There were days when I didn’t leave my bed and I wholeheartedly believed that I was going to dehydrate myself if I didn’t stop crying.

Biologically speaking we know that our estrogen and progesterone are at the highest levels before birth and then plummet to their lowest shortly after. Our bodies are flooded with oxytocin to help us bond with our babies. But the cultural disconnect between the expectations and the reality of what mothers are dealing with is enough to send us all into a downward mental spiral, and makes it increasingly difficult to not only talk about our struggles, but more importantly ask for help!

I didn’t have a traditional baby shower because it just isn’t my style. But what sounds more

fitting in hindsight is a party with experienced mothers who all sit down and prepare you for the vallies to come. We see the joyous moments, the instagram worthy hospital pictures, first weeks at home, the smiles and endless snuggles. But we don’t see the raw reality and depth of the potential darkness to come.

Thankfully, I had an amazing doctor who truly cared about my wellbeing as much as my baby’s and encouraged me to take care of myself. He walked me through my options for medication and held me hand as we discussed my fears and hesitations. I am almost 8 months in on the mommy game and I am here to say that the clouds are parting. The skies aren’t clear every day, and there are still vallies waiting for me to trudge through. But I see the light. I am grateful to have had the support, even though I couldn’t see it at the time. There has been a shift in me. I can tell that this journey has been more of a transformation. A stripping of sorts. The choice to be anything but resilient was taken away from me the moment my son entered this world. And to be honest, what a brutally beautiful blessing. Motherhood is not for the weak and only the strong survive. So here I am, a strong, vulnerable, humbled woman who has chosen to keep her eyes focused on the light and who isn’t afraid to yell from the rooftops to all the other mamas who are not okay.. “ you are not alone.”

I see you mama. I see the tears, the grief, the weight that you’re carrying, the longing for easier times. The pain is real and it’s big, but your strength and resilience are bigger. I am here, and we are just going to take this one dirty diaper and empty bottle at a time.