Postpartum Depression: Beginning My Journey Back to Myself

When I hit 6 months postpartum I thought I was cruising. I knew I had a risk of postpartum depression, but since I had made it half a year I figured I was in the clear. A few short months later would have me googling postpartum depression late at night when I couldn’t sleep. I would be holding back tears while driving to the store and then putting on a big smile once I got there. On the outside, I was living the happy life of a mother of two. However, on the inside, I was digging a hole for myself that was getting deeper and darker.

Then, a couple of days ago, I recognized what I was doing. I saw the hole I was digging and I understood why my patience was gone. After realizing what was going on, I could change my perspective and my mindset by vowing to myself to live in the moment and stop worrying about what is out of my control. This felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders and I almost immediately felt better. It was only then that I realized how “not okay” I had been before.

My image of postpartum depression was having urges to hurt myself or my baby.

I thought it was being sad all the time and not being able to get out of bed or connect with my baby. In my mind, it was something that happened quickly after a baby is born, not something that builds and hits in the second half of that difficult first year. That is not what happened with me but now that I’m on the other side, I do recognize that I did have postpartum depression.

It all started with the sleepless nights.

We all go through them as moms of newborns, and with two kids, it was even worse. Baby doesn’t want to sleep and wants to eat all the time. There is no time for mom to catch a wink. Then, he finally started to sleep better around 6 months old. It was a miracle and I was so grateful! Life was looking up.

But my life had other ideas.

My older son was potty training and having nighttime accidents. I tried to “Oh Crap! Potty Training Method” and was waking him at night only to find him wet. Most nights he would poop in his pants and then there was that clean up to do. My husband would try to help, but our son would often scream for me and since I was so afraid he would wake the baby I gave in. Every time.

I had to do EVERYTHING for the kids.

The baby was breastfeeding and needy and our toddler was cranky and clingy. It wears on a girl. I felt like I was sinking. As a mom, it is easy to get overwhelmed by everyone demanding so much out of you. You give and give and give and get very little in return. It’s easy to lose yourself.

I thought I was talking care of myself.

After all, I was eating healthy, exercising regularly, getting outside and meeting up with other moms. What I wasn’t doing was practicing self-love. This is totally different from self-care and without it, my depression deepened. I wasn’t acting like the mom, wife, or woman that I wanted to be and I hated that.

The people around me didn’t know the depths I had sunk since I didn’t really know. I couldn’t put words to it. It was just a constant feeling of not being good enough. There was always more to do and always someone needing something from me. I stopped making things fun and everything started feeling like a chore and I felt disconnected from everyone I cared about.

My anxiety went through the roof.

Usually, I let me kids run, climb and jump. They paint and get dirty and then we wash up later. We would engage in risky play outside and child-led exploration on hikes. All this started to make me nervous. I was still hiking and playing outside with them, but instead of interacting with them and exploring together, I was constantly saying to be careful or not to jump on that. While painting I was just thinking about the clean up instead of getting dirty with him and having fun. In photos I looked happy, but I felt like I was putting a front on.

My patience disappeared.

I was so busy worry about everything that I had lost all my patience. Everything my 3-year-old did would get on my nerves. I needed him to be more independent and helpful than he was ready to be. This led to me snapping at him, a lot. More than I would like to admit. It resulted in a battle of the wills where nobody was going to back down. He had just started preschool and so we were facing a lot of challenges from that alone. Our relationship struggled and I felt disconnected from this little human who I once felt so close to.

This sucked the joy out of my life.

It was like I was going through the motions. I was still doing all these things with my kids. We were baking, painting, and hiking still. I just wasn’t enjoying it like I used to. Still, I didn’t think I was depressed. It’s just a phase that will pass. We go through so many as a mother and this time I’m taking care of two which just makes everything exponentially harder.

I kept telling myself it will pass.

But it didn’t pass. Instead, it built on itself. Pretty soon I was doing those drives to the store holding back tears. I didn’t talk to anyone because I didn’t want to complain. Those closest to me knew something was off, but everyone just figured it was the normal tiredness of motherhood. I mean, that’s what I thought as well! This wasn’t postpartum depression, I’m just overwhelmed. It’s all okay.

I didn’t think I deserved postpartum depression.

That might sound strange, but I just knew so many people who were going through harder times than me. Why was I depressed when nothing was really wrong? The fact is, with postpartum depression, there is no reason why on person suffers and another doesn’t. It doesn’t depend on your circumstances. Postpartum depression can hit anyone, no matter what their situation in life is. In fact, 1 in 7 women may experience symptoms of postpartum depression.

It was after about a month spent close to tears in this state of joyless activity and pure exhaustion that I started to recognize what was going on.

I kept googling postpartum depression.

That’s when I learned that it can hit at any time up to and exceed a year after birth. I read stories of women who suffered from postpartum depression and anxiety that didn’t have urges to hurt anyone. These were women that were living their regular lives but without joy, just like me. I was so stubborn thought that I still refused to talk to anyone about it.

Then, one day, a switch flipped.

That’s exactly what it felt like. It’s like I just realized what was going on. A light was shined down into my hole and I could see how far down I was. I recognized that my stress and tension resulted from all my worry and that my worry was coming from the fact that I wasn’t living in the moment. That is when I vowed to start living in the moment again and stop stressing about everything I had to do. Stop thinking about the clean-up and enjoy the activity. It’s amazing what this change of mindset did for me.

I know that I’m not out of the dark yet but now instead of digging deeper, I’m starting to climb out.

Postpartum depression is a serious issue. I wish I had taken better care of myself and gotten help when I really needed it. Not everyone can recognize these symptoms in themselves. I only did since I have been through depression before in High School. This allowed me to see what was going on internally and make a change.

I only hope that my story can help someone else recognize their postpartum depression and get help. It doesn’t have to be so hard. In fact, it SHOULDN’T be so hard. Talk to your doctor or someone you love if you think that you might be heading this way. If you are googling postpartum depression “just in case” call your doctor instead. Don’t lose yourself in motherhood. Take care of yourself because you are important and you can’t be your best self if you are stuck in postpartum depression.

It’s okay to not be okay and postpartum depression doesn’t make you a bad mom.

Once you recognize it and address it, you can start a journey back to yourself. Practice not just self-care, but self-love, nurturing the woman inside you. That is what I’m doing. I’m climbing out of my hole and finding myself again. Not just the mom me or the wife me, but the real me. I need to let that woman shine again and find my joy once more.

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