Jenn K

According to www.depressionanxietyhelp.net, Postpartum depression, also known as post natal depression, can make an individual feel restless, anxious, fatigued or even worthless. In some cases the new mother can develop even more serious symptoms such as: stops eating, has trouble sleeping, becomes frantic or even paranoid. This type of depression could begin at any time within the first three months after delivery of a child. The condition is surprisingly common. Current data suggests that 5 to 9 percent of women will develop postpartum depression, but less than one in five of these women will seek professional help (Jacobs, 68), but many women recover because of a support group or counseling.

I was in that 5 to 9 percent of women who developed PPD but did not seek professional help. In fact, I did not share this information with anyone. My husband did not know the extent of it until one of my best friends was going through it herself, and I relived it while helping her. My experience with PPD was one of the most frightening and loneliest times of my life. I had been blessed with this beautiful amazing angel and all I could do was cry. It felt like the four walls were closing in on me and I had no idea what to do. I thought being a mom was what I had always wanted, but now that I was one, I was not so sure. I missed the ‘outside world’ of all my friends, my job and the company of others. There were times, when my husband would come home from work and the baby was asleep, that I would be in our closet crying. He would ask me what was wrong and I would tell him I felt overwhelmed, lonely and scared. Of what? I was not sure, but those were the feelings I was having. There would be good times and bad throughout the day. By the fouth week of my daughter’s life, I knew I had to try to help myself. I could not allow myself to continue to live in the ‘fog’ that engulfed me. So I forced myself to take her for walks each morning without fail, and by the sixth week of her life I was feeling much better and pretty much my old self again. I then started meeting one of my other best friends with her baby and we would walk and talk. I did not realize at the time how much that had helped me in my recovery. I truly have no idea what would have happened if I did not have the loving, caring, understanding support of my husband during this time of my life. I was embarrassed to have these feelings and scared that if I shared them with others (professionals) that something bad would happen to me, or worse, to my daughter and husband. Thankfully, I never had thoughts of suicide or hurting my daughter. My PPD only lasted six weeks, but those six weeks were the toughest of my life thus far.

If after you have your child or children and have any of the above mentioned symptoms, please talk to someone about your feelings, whether it be a friend or professional. You should not think that you have a character flaw or a general weakness. This is sometimes simply part of giving birth. I was fortunate enough to be able to work through my PPD without professional help; but if I were to have these feelings again, I would seek a local support group and/or counseling. When it was time to think about another child, I did so without hesitation of the PPD returning. I knew I had a strong support system in place this time around, and I now have two beautiful, healthy, happy, strong children whom I absolutely love and adore.

Jenn K., Dallas

Jennifer Calvin

I had the same dream growing up as many girls do. From the time I was very young, I couldn’t wait to get married and have a family. When my husband and I found out we were pregnant I freaked out. I was 33 years old and this was unexpected. I had this vision of how it was supposed to be but my reality was nothing like my childhood dreams. I knew my baby was a blessing but I was fearful I wouldn’t be a good mother. I spent my twenties and early thirties battling depression so thought I was not fit to be a mother. I had finally found a good counselor and had overcome most of my issues. Due to my history, I prepared myself for postpartum depression.

The day my son Jacob was born was the happiest day of my life. I was overjoyed with my little angel. I recall only one bad day when we first came home from the hospital. I called my best friend crying hysterically asking her to promise me that it got better. She quickly reminded me that she was pregnant with baby number 3 and there was no way she would be there if it didn’t get better. She offered some advice. She told me that any woman who says that early on she wasn’t on the floor of her closet at least once crying her eyes out would be lying! I made a decision that day. I could either fall apart or pull it together. For some reason beyond me, I was able to pull it together. I couldn’t believe it, simply one day of “baby blues” and no depression! It was a miracle.

My husband and I decided to have another baby when Jacob was around two years old. I was ecstatic when I found out I was pregnant again! My pregnancy was easier and there was no anxiety. I just knew everything was going to be even better this time around. While I was more relaxed this time, I worried constantly that I was not going to love another child as much as I loved Jacob. He was my little man. We did everything together. Even though I worked full time, my husband worked longer hours than I did so I spent a lot of alone time with Jacob.
Sam’s birth went fine but when I looked at him it didn’t feel the same as Jacob. I felt terrible for even thinking that. To this day, I feel guilty about that. Here was this sweet little angel looking at me and I kept thinking you aren’t Jacob. During my hospital stay I didn’t try very hard to connect with Sam because I knew he and I would have plenty of time together at home. I rarely held him because I knew when I got home I would be holding him all the time. When I got home I didn’t have the late night bonding I thought I would have with Sam. He was such a great baby. He only cried when he was tired or hungry and went straight back to sleep during the night feedings. He started sleeping through the night at a miraculous 6 ½ weeks. It was as if he knew I had to go back to work.

Work was more difficult to adjust to with this new baby though. I was working as a prosecutor and while on maternity leave they changed my court assignment. I came back to work with a 6 week old baby in a whole new environment. That’s when the wheels fell off. I cried every day on my way to work, even though I loved my job. The littlest thing stressed me out to no end. I felt helpless, out of control, disconnected from everything and didn’t know what was wrong. It never occurred to me that I was suffering from postpartum depression. I didn’t have it the first time around so why would I have it now? I finally went to my doctor and she prescribed medication. It worked immediately, at first. It pulled me out of the slump I was in. I quit crying several times a day and felt like I could function again. That lasted for a couple weeks. Then the depression slowly crept back in.

I began eating to help stuff the guilt I was feeling for being an inadequate mother and employee. I still didn’t understand it though because I had never done that before. I wasn’t balled up in the fetal position on my bed with the covers over my head not eating for days. I was going to work every day. I was functioning. I would look at my sweet boys’ eyes and know that I had to keep going for them. They were the reason I got out of bed every morning but inside I was dying. This cycle of guilt continued for months. I finally started opening up to those around me about some of my feelings. I told Shelley Shook, who I know through work, about what was going on and she encouraged me to talk to someone. I got honest with myself about what was going on and what I was going to do to change it. I knew there were certain things I could change and others that I couldn’t. She asked if I would share my story and I am happy to do so. I think everyone’s situation is unique, just like every individual is unique. I don’t think my postpartum compared to others was bad but it was bad for me. It was scary to me because I kept so much bottled up. On the outside I appeared okay but inside I felt like I was slowly dying. I am so grateful to be on this side of it now, and although I am still a work in progress, I am feeling more like my old self.

Sam is 10 months old now and is the happiest, funniest, sweetest baby I have ever known. Big brother Jacob is 4 years old and can light up Sam’s face just by walking in the room. But honestly, Sam’s biggest smiles come when he’s with me. They are both the lights of my life and I am the luckiest person I know.

Jennifer Calvin, Dallas

Susan

My husband and I married in our late thirties and were anxious to start a family. When I got pregnant a few months after the wedding, we were overjoyed. We were even more excited when we found out that it was a baby girl. We had a bumpy first trimester plagued with morning sickness, medical scares and a period of bed rest, but nothing could put a damper on our excitement. Unfortunately, everything changed at the beginning of my second trimester.

My illness struck out of nowhere. My husband describes it as a switch being flipped. It was a typical Monday morning when I experienced a massive panic attack. I'd had some minor anxiety in the past, but this was different. I couldn't calm myself down. I skipped work that day and lay huddled on the couch praying for relief. My condition rapidly worsened from there. I became scared of the dark… of sleeping… of eating… and particularly of being alone. I couldn't handle separation from my husband and would shadow him around the house. I would pace endlessly at night because I was already worried about him leaving for work the next day. What was most frustrating is that I couldn't identify a reason for my fears. I was constantly on red alert, but I wasn't sure for what. I didn't know what was happening to me. I became desperate for help. I tried meditation, exercise, massage and prayer with little relief. My doctor started me on a mild medication for anxiety, but that didn't help either. Amazingly, I was still able to drag myself to work, but I couldn't perform at my usual level. I would spend hours crying in a back stairwell and had to call my husband repeatedly for comfort. I'm fortunate to have had an understanding boss and workplace during this difficult time.

Things worsened further from there and eventually I no longer wanted to be pregnant. I wanted out of the situation in any way possible. I couldn't tolerate thinking about the baby or preparing for her arrival. I cringed inside when someone would ask how I was doing. This was supposed to be the happiest time of my life… what would they think if I answered honestly? I plodded through each day thinking about my approaching due date with dread. I was dropping weight and only sleeping for a couple hours at night. One morning I was so disoriented that I drove in front of a train just as the gates were closing. My situation was getting dangerous and we had to do something.

Luckily a few different things began to happen. I had a great doctor who insisted that I start therapy and try more aggressive medication. I resisted as long as I could since the idea of taking pills increased my panic. My husband also had concerns about medication during pregnancy. We met with a psychiatrist and a therapist who allayed our fears and we eventually agreed that I should give it a try. Around this time I also met Karen Erschen of Wings for Wellness. I had worked with her husband during her pregnancy and remembered when he had to leave work to care for her. I reached out to him and he put me in contact with Karen. This was one of the most crucial aspects of my recovery. It was a relief to finally talk to someone who understood what I was going through.

With therapy, medication and support from Wings for Wellness, I gradually began to experience glimmers of my old self. I would find something funny and laugh. I 'd want to shop for my baby girl or decorate her nursery. These moments were often fleeting and I'd feel like it was hopeless… but I was still healing. I've heard recovery described like the game 'Chutes and Ladders'. The chutes were devastating, but I began to realize that they were always followed by ladders. Gradually I gained confidence in my recovery and was able to go in a baby store and register. I was able to attend a childbirth class. I was able to have a baby shower. These things were still difficult, but at least I was doing it. One day I woke up and realized that I was excited about her arrival again.

I consider myself lucky to have recovered before my daughter's birth. It was a sweet ending to spend our first wedding anniversary together in the hospital with our new baby girl… the greatest gift! I couldn't be happier today and my daughter is the love of my life. My story is still difficult to recount, but I think it's important to share. I want women to know that this can happen during pregnancy and that you are not alone. Most importantly, with help you WILL recover.