Post Partum depression: My story

6 Aug

I originally wrote this post not long after starting this blog in 2012 but haven’t had the courage to share it with everyone. Thanks to the help of a few other bloggers who openly talk about their battles, Combined with the “2000 on Tuesday” writing challenge being hosted by Mrs. Monologues, I am finally feeling like its time. This first challenge prompt is “the written word” which I originally didn’t think would be a fit for this but it was writing here on this blog that has kept me sane over the past few years and given me back a sense of self.
I’m going to share my post partum story in three parts. The first is my story. And it starts like this.
July 5, 2006.

“Congratulations. It’s a girl!!” Said the nurse.

Oh. Ok.


Can I go home now?

Not your typical labour and delivery excitement is it? Well, I wasn’t the typical labor and delivery mom. More common than I knew of at the time, but not the norm. I was suffering from mild post partum depression after my first born, which quickly escalated into full scale post partum depression after the birth of my second child. Only I didn’t know it then. It would take me 2 years before I finally figured it all out and sought out the help I needed. The help that eventually ended the long battle and changed our future for the better.

I gave birth to my first child in March of 2004. I was ecstatic. I fell in love with him instantly and I couldn’t have been happier. He was beautiful and perfect. We took him home and everything fell into place. I stayed home with him while my husband returned to work and after a year I also returned to work. Six months later all of the mom’s who I had had my first child with, decided they were ready for another and so we decided to start thinking about it as well. I got pregnant after 2 months of trying and right from the start, something felt off. I was suddenly scared to be doing this again. Scared of having another baby in the house, scared of how hard it was going to be with not only 1 but now 2 little kids. I found myself spending many nights crying alone at home. I felt so guilty for not wanting to be pregnant, for suddenly not wanting to be doing this again.

Our whole life was a mess at that time it seemed. We made the decision to sell the house we were in because it was 900 square feet and we were already cramped in it with 3, let alone another. We sold the house in May of 2006. We thought we were lucky that we were able to hold off actually moving until that August after the baby was scheduled to be born. What we didn’t expect was for my grandfather to pass away a few weeks later. He was 88 years old and had brief bouts in the hospital but nothing too serious. We got a call that he had been admitted again and for some reason I chose to believe he would be ok and we would go the next weekend to see him. My dad called me that Sunday morning to say he had passed. I felt so guilty for not going and broke down. Having lost my grandma a few years earlier, this was the last connection to them and a lot of my childhood memories included them and now that was completely gone. We now had to focus on what to do with the house, all his belongings and everything else. On top of packing and getting ready to move from our own house as well.

My daughter was born in July. I had her on a Wednesday, we came home Friday and that Saturday we moved 2 loads from our house. A few weeks later, my brother’s family came for a visit and i spent the week running around with them. It was an extremely hot summer and we had no air conditioning. I developed thrush by the third week with all the activity and work and sweating I was doing. August came and it was time to clear out grandpa’s house and have the auction sale. The third week in August we moved out of our house and in with my mother in law while we waited for our house to be built and moved.

Having the baby and having all that going on was a horrible situation. Some people could handle that, but for me at that time, it wasn’t the right thing at all. Not being able to have that time to relax and attach to my baby and bond with her was detrimental. I felt like I just had to keep going and make it through the next day and things would get better. We were draining our savings quite quickly building this house. Bills were piling up and everyday it just seemed like there was a new one. I just needed some time to stop and think but I couldn’t. I just wanted the whole world to stop, just for one day.

Once the house came and everything settled down and we moved in, I expected things to get better. My baby was 4 months old by now and wouldn’t sleep during the day and it just seemed like I couldn’t get a break from her. This is when I think it all set in. I nursed my first and loved every minute of it. But with this one, all i could think of was the day I could stop. I felt trapped by her. She wouldn’t take a bottle and wouldn’t sleep.

Finally spring came and I knew I had to get out of the house. I couldn’t handle one more day at home alone with these two little kids. My mood swings were all over the place and I just needed out. I decided to return to work when she was 10 months old. I began to dread work ending and having to go home to 2 little kids who were crying and screaming. I would pick them up from daycare and just go to my room. They would play until my husband got home and then I would find whatever reason I could to get out for awhile. Meetings, running, anything. I just needed to get away from everyone.

The following fall, I hit my lowest point. I started to withdraw from all my friends. I knew if they could see me now, they would see right through me and know what was going on. I couldn’t risk them getting too close. My parents were planning a 3 week long vacation around this time. I started planning an escape. I was going to stay at their house while they were gone and look for a place of my own to move into when they got back.

Because I had days when i would feel good and days when i was at a low, on the good days, i could talk myself out of it and rationalize with myself. I really didn’t want to go anywhere and tear my family apart. I knew that in my heart. Things would just get better I would tell myself. And for days and sometimes even weeks, they would. I would start to think that it was all over and we could get back to the way things were, but then I would have a dark day and it was like starting all over. The lows became lower and the good days (highs) became less good. So when i started to actually plan for an “out”, I knew that if i didn’t get help, things would be destroyed forever.

I had a break down at work a few weeks later. I just started to write down everything I was feeling on a piece of paper, walked to the phone and called the doctor. I was lucky enough to get in that same day. I walked in and handed him the paper and cried. I cried because i couldn’t believe this was happening, I cried because i had let this go on so long and I cried because I was so grateful i finally made it here.



3 Responses to “Post Partum depression: My story”

  1. Tenille Lafontaine (@FeistyFrugal) August 6, 2013 at 7:07 pm #

    Good for you for sharing, cathartic maybe to get it out in print? I wish I had known about that then…I was pretty lonely when I lived there and would have loved the company during the day! But I know it’s not a matter of company when all you want to do is retreat.

    Eager to read the rest…..


  1. Postpartum depression: My daughter’s story | myJAMpackedlife - August 13, 2013

    […] week I wrote about postpartum and my story and this week is a continuation with My daughters story. The writing prompt this week is ” […]

  2. Postpartum depression: My daughter’s story | myJAMpackedlife - August 13, 2013

    […] up with Mrs. Monologues “2000 on Tuesday” writing challenge. Last week I wrote about postpartum and my story and this week is a continuation with My daughters story. The writing prompt this week is ” […]

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