But before I go any further, I have two disclaimers to make.
First of all, this is not a "confession." I sense that sometimes people feel emboldened by the Internet--they admit to and discuss things they would not normally do in face-to-face conversation with friends and family. This is not one of those times. This is something I try to be open about, and if we were able to spend some quality time together, I have little doubt that it would come up in conversation.
Secondly, and most important, I am no expert on postpartum depression, nor do I in any way pretend to be. I only know what I experienced, and I share some of it in an effort to raise awareness and deepen understanding. My doctor, in fact, thinks I probably don't have "real" postpartum depression (whatever that is--there's still not on overwhelming consensus on the matter), but, instead, a hormonal imbalance from breastfeeding. But, as she pointed out, the symptoms are the same, and the treatment is the same. So, for ease of discussion, when talking about what I suffered after Mary was born, I use the term "postpartum depression" (or PPD).
Here are some practical things I have learned.
- Postpartum depression can happen to anyone after any pregnancy. After my first, David, was born, life certainly had its challenges, its ups and downs, but I did not experience postpartum depression. As a result, I did not expect to suffer from PPD after Mary was born. I ignorantly figured I was someone who did not get PPD. So it was completely unexpected, and Greg and I were totally unprepared when it happened. (It turns out that second-time moms are more likely to develop PPD than first-timers.)
- Your husband needs to be prepared ahead of time for the possibility of PPD, and understand that a lot of responsibility will lie with him. He may very well be the one to recognize a problem and get you to admit it. He needs to know before the baby comes that if you develop PPD, your judgment will be clouded, and he may be the one to decide if you need help. Pointed questions like "Are you depressed?" are more helpful than vague ones like "How are you?" Also, saying, "Promise me you will talk to the doctor," or "I will go with you to the doctor, and we will ask her if you need help," are better than "Are you going to talk to the doctor?" or "If you think you need help, then we will get you help." Greg was incredibly supportive, but because we were both caught off guard by my depression, he wasn't aware of how clouded my judgment was. Not wanting to push me, he left me to decide for myself if I needed help. But I couldn't decide if I needed help! I couldn't think straight. The decision became a huge burden, and I was paralyzed. (I was able to lie multiple times to health care professionals about my mental health, as well as listen to a family member share her personal struggles with PPD and not say a word myself about my own troubles.) I needed Greg (or my mom or a close friend or anyone!) to decide for me and take a more active role. (Now we know!)
- The longer you wait, the harder it is to ask for help. The first couple weeks after childbirth can be a roller coaster ride while hormone levels readjust (hence, the "baby blues"). But after 2-3 weeks, if you feel depressed, numb, or really irritable, talk to someone right away. Don't wait! I kept setting milestones for myself--I'll feel better by next week, or by Thanksgiving, or by my mom's visit, or by Christmas, etc. But that just made me procrastinate. Don't think you can/should wait it out. After a while, you start to get used to the way you are and think that even though it's bad, it's normal. I knew three weeks after Mary's birth that I had PPD, but I waited nearly three months to seriously talk to my doctor about it! (But it's also nice to know that it's never too late to seek help!)
- Beware of good days! I know that sounds weird, but the good days prevented me from admitting that I had a problem. I thought that if I really had PPD that I wouldn't have any good days. But that's not true. I had lots of good days. The good days made it really easy to talk myself out of needing help. You can have good days and still have PPD.
- Don't worry if you have the"right" symptoms or not. I certainly had my fair share of crying spells, but really, with me, the main problem was irritability. I also did not have a problem bonding with Mary. Since my symptoms didn't fit 100% with what I thought were the symptoms of PPD, it was easier to talk myself out of needing help. I thought I was just a mean, horrible, impatient person, and that it was all my fault (and that obviously made me feel even worse). Depression can manifest itself in different ways besides being depressed.
- Don't fear help. Just talk to your doctor (or your baby's doctor), and you can work through your fears and concerns together. My biggest obstacle was fear of what would happen when I told my doctor. I was wary about what I knew "help" would be--therapy and anti-depressants. Would I be referred to some therapy group down the hall in Life Skills? (In the Air Force, the mental health department is unfortunately called "Life Skills," bringing to mind that class in junior high where you learned to bake banana bread and sew on buttons.) My doctor was reasonable, low-key, and sensitive in her reaction. She recognized that my depression was relatively mild and that I could start with a low-dose anti-depressant without therapy and go from there. (This was a relief. I knew I needed help, but the idea of having to find child care on a regular basis for therapy made me feel stressed and overwhelmed.) I also had reservations about anti-depressants. But I was doing everything I could--my faith in God remained strong, I was exercising regularly, trying to eat right, talking openly with Greg, keeping a journal--and was still feeling desperate, irritable, and miserable. So I talked to my doctor and started taking one. I wondered if the anti-depressant would make me feel numb or give me some sort of false high. That wasn't the case at all! Here's what I have discovered: The anti-depressant does not make me happy; rather, it gives me the ability to choose to be happy. I feel like my free will has been restored! I am in control again.
I realize that for the most part I have dispensed unsolicited advice and shared very few personal details of my own battle. I hope that's okay. While I am open about this, and would gladly enter into a more personal, detailed discussion with anyone (meaning, anyone I care about, i.e. has my email address and is not a retailer or spammer), some things are not meant for the whole blog-reading world to read.
But I will share one moment of this journey. We enjoyed a wonderful, joyful, fun-filled Christmas. (You can watch Greg's video for proof!) At the end of the day, when the kids were asleep, Greg gave me a big hug, and I asked him, "Was today a happy day?" "Yes, Alisa, it was a very happy day." "I thought so, but I just wanted to make sure." We are not going to be happy all the time in life. But I think we should at least be able to recognize happiness when we are experiencing it. I couldn't. That's why I finally got help, and I'm so glad I did.
