After my initial post “Frozen Top Ten”, a few beautiful people asked me to share more about my experience with depression – specifically, post partum depression. My reflections on this story are too long for one blog post. This is not just for women. It is not just for parents. I offer this series in honor of anyone who suffers and feels alone. And I offer it to those who might have experienced or have loved ones experiencing difficulties as young parents.
Our experience having our first child was joyful. Yes, we went to the hospital and were sent home and then induced the next day. Yes, I had back labor and eventually had an epidural. Yes, the epidural helped half of my back more than the other half. But, YES! We were rested and ready! We were very excited to welcome Amelia into the world to the tune of “Testify to Love.” Happy. For a long time, there was happy.
Then around December in our second pregnancy, I was incredibly uncomfortable. The demands of my body and a 1 ½ year old were wearing on me. Looking back, I believe this is where depression set in. Five months later, it was time to have our second baby. We went in for a check up one morning and were told to come back to the hospital around 5:00 p.m. so they could induce and deliver that night. We didn’t think much of the request at the time. Our doctor would conveniently be on call and my body was indicating that it was a good time. We started the process around 6. I settled into the whirlpool and Aaron settled into the Lakers game. What came next was fast and furious. I realized very quickly that I wanted the pain meds I had previously hoped to do without. And I wanted them BAD. They never came. I will spare you the details.
Here’s what I felt I lost in the next few hours:
- My voice. I had plans for how this birthing process would work, but when things got rolling, nurses were (what felt like) dragging me to the bed and telling me what to do. I felt like they were making decisions for me. They acted like the epidural would come, even though they knew it was too late. I felt like a child.
- My emotional stability. It took me a few months to realize this, but I discussed it with a friend-psychologist and we determined that I likely had a panic attack during labor. I literally thought I would AND thought it would be better if I would just die in labor. I feel bad even saying that. But it’s true. I’m going to say it because maybe I’m not the only one.
- My dignity. I felt incredibly exposed and ashamed of my volume, tone and word choice as I cried out and writhed in pain.
- My self-respect. When all was said and done, I felt I had failed this natural birth thing. I didn’t overcome anything or feel empowered like some women do. I felt dragged and beaten and terrified and discarded. That is also really hard to say. *Big Breath*
- My ability to move. For a long time (maybe an hour, I don’t really know) after birth, I couldn’t relax my awkwardly positioned body. I continued to experience pain after pain and I didn’t have the wherewithal to ask for pain medication for quite some time.
- My husband’s respect. This is a tough one, but it is real. I felt my loss of control had embarrassed him. I couldn’t look him in the eye for fear of the disappointment I was sure I would see.
- Sleep. Grant was born at 11:45 p.m. They took us to our room around 1:00 a.m. and I did not sleep. I lay there tense and in shock, all night long. No one knew. I didn’t sleep well for months.
The next couple of days in the hospital were a struggle as I attempted to feel and act like I felt as joyful as I did when Amelia was born. One nurse caught me in a weak, tearful moment and gruffly asked, “Are you depressed?!” I pulled it together enough to sternly pronounce, “No. I am a counselor. I would know if I were depressed.”
She backed off.
And I backed into my shell.
I pray you will tuck these insights into your heart:
- I rejected help. I think I was so embarrassed from the experience that I refused to accept or seek help. I closed up like a clam – hard and tight. But I was a wreck on the inside. If you feel as I did, please open yourself to help. Reach out to someone you trust in your head – even if your heart feels it can’t trust at all.
- I was unable to be my own advocate. Sometimes people break down and are unable to speak for themselves – even “strong” people. We were not prepared for this to happen. If you know someone who is closed like a clam, be curious! They may act like they don’t want your help, but if you offer it tenderly, confidently, respectfully and consistently; they just might let you in.
- Joy is what I felt I should feel after giving birth, so I hid my pain. But honestly, most women struggle. My expectations for what “I should feel” made it harder to accept the pain and sadness I experienced.
Our beautiful, worth-every-bit-of-it kids (a few years back).
Friends,
Working on this piece reminds me how troubling this season of our parenting experience was. It has been a while since I shared this intensely personal and vulnerable story with anyone. I believe that is why most parents do not share their emotionally traumatic birthing stories or the pain they experience afterward.
I believe that is why I must.
I do not claim to be an expert in the area of depression. I share my reflections of our experience but if you are concerned that you or a loved one is depressed, please inform your doctor (or encourage them to inform theirs) – especially if you are pregnant.
Love,
Andrea Joy
When I Should Feel Joy #1: Unprepared
When I Should Feel Joy #2: Postpartum Depression
When I Should Feel Joy #3: Shame
When I Should Feel Joy #4: True Love
Thank you for sharing this important information. <3
Dear Andrea, this is an amazing post. Thank you so much for writing it.
I was diagnosed with postpartum bipolar disorder, which manifested as mania and then later on as depression. I’d like to suggest a wonderful new book that you might be interested in. It’s called “Transformed by Postpartum Depression: Women’s Stories of Trauma and Growth” by Dr. Walker Karra. Here’s the Amazon blurb below just in case you’re interested.
I wish you the absolute best, and take care. Dyane
“Transformed by Postpartum Depression is a poignant tale of 20 women’s journeys through postpartum depression and the growth that they experienced as a result. These women described severe suffering as they had been taken completely by surprise by their depression. They also experienced failure of care providers to screen for or treat depression, and finally reached a place where they determined that they would do whatever it took to recover.
These women not only survived their ordeal, but emerged stronger than they were before. Transformed by Postpartum Depression is a deeply rich, compelling journey. These women creatively engaged and transcended their “diagnosis,” truly transforming themselves, their relationships, and their lives finding self-empowerment within their personal creative journeys of healing.”
You are putting words to something that is incredibly difficult to do. It is so important for people who have difficulty putting feelings into words to learn the language. Thank you for sharing something so difficult. There are just too many stories like yours and mine. My best to you and your family.
My friend Chris shared your blog posts and I’ve been meaning to read them day after day. When she shared your latest today, I finally opened it up and came here. I’m so glad I did. You voiced SO much of what I experienced after my second, except my first birth experience was just as traumatic. It took me almost 18 months postpartum with my second (2 1/2 years after my first) to finally realize it was OKAY to say I hated the birth experiences I had and I was allowed to be sad, angry, disappointed, and broken…because that’s how I felt. I felt like my body had failed me…and that, before my first child was even in my arms, I was a total and complete failure as a mom. I’ve been sharing my story on my personal blog (www.tjsmhanesfamily.blogspot.com) and on my family blog (www.hanesfamilychronicles.blogspot.com) but I’ve never had anyone else write like you have in a way that is so similar and makes me feel so not alone. It was so, so hard for me to share my birth stories when friends would start talking about theirs. They all shared these awesome stories and they’d all be laughing and commiserating…until I shared mine. Then they just stared at me speechless. I learned to nervously laugh it off like it was no big deal, because, after all, I had two healthy kids and that’s all that mattered, right? If only someone had told me sooner that it was okay to NOT be okay. Both my counselor and doctor said that post traumatic stress was a huge factor in my postpartum depression/anxiety. It took me well over a year of intense counseling and medication to finally find my way out of the fog and to really grieve those experiences. There were so many situations during the 18 months after my second was born that I wish I could relive, because I was not myself at all. I said and acted in ways that finally scared my husband enough to beg me to get help. I’m so glad he did and that he never gave up on me. I didn’t tell him until just recently that there was a time, at my darkest moment of postpartum depression, that I had a panic attack so severe I thought I was dying…and I WANTED to die. Because it was hard to admit that to him out loud (and even type those words here). Anyways, that was a long winded way of saying THANK YOU for sharing your story so I could read it here.
Andrea,
Thankyou for sharing. Wish someone like you had been around when my children were born many years ago.
I felt like a failure as a mom, daughter, daughter-in-law and wife.
Love you and love your heart.
Thanks.