This week I learned that an old friend of mine is suffering severly from Postpartum Depression and Postpartum Psychosis. Her Facebook status update simply stated that she is "struggling to stay alive", and a video posted about another woman who lost the battle to PPD "saved her life and the life of her kids". Seeing this about my friend brought back memories for me of a time shortly after I had each of my babies; a time that I almost lost it.
Hannah Grace was born on March 12, 2006. She was an absolutely beautiful baby, and rolled back to front right away on the newborn scale in the delivery room. We knew that she was going to be extra special. I was just shy of my 25th birthday and my husband was just shy of his 29th birthday. Young, first time parents, with their newborn and floating on a cloud... not so much. My husband left the hospital at night so he could get some good sleep in order to be more helpful after I got home with the baby. So it was just me, the baby and the nurses who, I could just say, do this all the time and could have stood to take a course in bedside manner with new, young, first time mothers. I had NO idea what I was doing. I had heard that babies cry a lot when they're newborns, but when Hannah cried that entire first night - all night - I couldn't believe it. I had tried to send her to the nursery because naturally, I was exhausted. They sent her back to me. I was told that I needed to be with my baby and she was crying so much that she was keeping the other babies in the nursery awake. So here I am, a mother of less than 24 hours, standing in my hospital gown, all night long, with a newborn that won't (or can't) stop crying. I cried too... a lot.
When my husband came back the next morning I told him what had happened. He promised to stay with me the second night to help me. The second night was much the same as the first, and now we were 2 stressed out, sleep-deprived first time parents with a baby that won't (or can't) stop crying.
The days and weeks went by, Hannah kept crying. And crying. And crying. Dr. appointments, diet changes for me (I was nursing), formula supplements, Reflux medications, GERD medications, and NO SLEEP. No exercise. Did I mention no sleep? We would send her to the grandparent's for a few hours so Matt & I could rest, go visit friends, get out of the house, shower. They too, sent her back. "Come & get your baby. She won't stop crying and I've tried everything". There were days I would cry so hard and so much, I would take myself out to the driveway, collapse in a ball on the concrete - in front of the car so my husband would have to run me over with it before he could leave me alone with this baby!
I was diagnosed with Situational Postpartum Depression. I was put on medication and my doctor felt that my symptoms would subside when Hannah's did, and that they were (somehow) connected. After 4 months, I returned to work, life went on and now Hannah is almost 5 years old and just as special (or more) as we knew she would be that first day we met her.
3 years later we had Ava. No colic, no reflux, no GERD. She slept well, she ate well, she was always happy. But I wasn't. Again, it hit me. About 4 weeks after she was born I started noticing those nagging, creeping feelings that weren't supposed to be in my head. I got back on medication and this time, started seeing a therapist. Not only had PPD hit me again, but I had another child to care for, and life to live on top of it. It was worse with the second one. Why? She was a great baby. Why was this happening again, and worse this time? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I enjoy my kids? Why wasn't I happy, and why was I so afraid of being a mother?
I still don't fully understand it, but I know I got through it. It took a long time and I'm still healing. There were many people and many things that got me through it. Some days I had to be carried. The struggle was long and hard, and in the end, we all survived. Not only did we survive, but we are stronger because of it. I can't imagine my life turning out any differently than it has, and these experiences have made me thankful for the hard times. The hard times that you never think will hit you, that you never think you'll get through. I'm thankful for the gift of life, the 2 little lives that God has blessed Matt and me with. It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't my fault. It just... was.
So, when my friend posted her struggle, it really struck a nerve in me. I want to help, I want to talk about it. I want to share what I went through and how I got through it. I want to be a part in saving someone else, because I was saved.
The struggles that we endure can make us think that life sucks. They can make us wonder what we've done to deserve them. They can make us wonder why God would let us endure them. Without sounding cliche, He allows these hard times because He knows we can endure them, and there are others out there who need us. Whether we never speak of the trials again or not, we are needed. The struggles come to remind us how precious life is, and how careful we must be with it.
If you're reading this and you or someone you know are or have been affected by PPD or PPS, please reach out. Don't give up. Don't be alone. Hang in there, take it one minute at a time if you have to. Some days, you will have to. The next thing you know, you can take it one day at a time, and then one week. And then, you will be through it. Through it. And you'll have the reality check that I did - it was a gift.
