A Story of Post-Partum

It's hard for me to believe that my little boy is six months old already. Before I know it we'll be celebrating his first birthday. It's been a tough road for us, well I should say for me. Post-partum depression hit me hard. They say a women doesn't develop post-partum depression until a few weeks after birth, but I felt it the moment he took his first breath outside of my belly.

I try to find reasons why I developed PPD and why so soon. Was it because it wasn't a planned pregnancy? or was it because I was induced and delivered much sooner than I anticipated? Did I not prepare well enough? Was it because I didn't get to hold him right after he was delivered? Was it because my delivery was traumatic?

I don't know what the reason was, but all I know is that I suffered from it and I feel slighted. I feel like my first child's birth was taken from me because I wasn't there mentally.

I remember the nurse finally handing him to me. I was scared. How do I hold him? What do I do? Tears streamed down my worn out face. I felt like I was holding a stranger. My entire family watched in awe as I held my first born, their first grandchild, nephew, godson. They felt joy. I felt confusion. Most mothers savor the first moment they get to hold their newborn child, I was overwhelmed.

I remember our first night at the hospital together. The nurses offered to take him to the nursery for the night so we could get some rest. I didn't hesitate, my husband did. He couldn't bare to be parted from him, but I could. I remember thinking, what's wrong with me?

Most women can't wait to leave the hospital, I dreaded it. What was I going to do without the nurses? They knew how to do everything, I didn't know a thing. Neither did my husband. Thank god for my family, because without them my husband and I would have been clueless.

My mom took two weeks off from work to help me with Owen. I learned from her. She taught me everything I ever needed to know about babies. When she left to go home for a little while and I was left alone with Owen, I felt this urge to tell her to not leave, like a two-year old holding on to their mother's pant leg screaming. I remember one day I was alone with Owen and he wouldn't stop crying for everything. I remember lying him in my lap while he was screaming and I was sobbing hysterically because I had no idea what to do.

My mom would stay overnight often and help out with the night feedings so my husband and I could catch up on our sleep. I had the opportunity to sleep, but did I? Nope. I would lie there dreaming about my life before baby and how badly I wanted to go back. I didn't want to leave my bed. Sometimes I didn't want to wake up.

Owen was a month old and I didn't know who I was anymore. I felt like I just was going through the motions. I barely slept or ate, I sobbed uncontrollably everyday. It was a week before Thanksgiving. I was changing Owen's diaper and he looked at me and smiled. I couldn't help but cry and feel guilty. I wanted to bond with him, I wanted to feel connected but my PPD masked any and all of my emotions besides bad ones. I needed help.

That night I told my husband. I think I have PPD. I thought he would be mad and accuse me of being a bad mother, but I had to do it. I had to tell someone. He wrapped his arms around me and held me. It felt so good. The next day I went to the Doctor.

I was afraid of what the doctor was going to say. Was she going to accuse me of being a bad mother? Instead, she hugged me as well. And told me what I never thought I would have heard. It's normal. This can't be normal I thought, but she reassured me it was and I'll be back to myself in no time. She hand me a script. I'm usually not one to jump on the antidepressant bandwagon but I swear I took that script and ran to the pharmacy.

It changed my life. It wasn't long before I felt renewed and a sense of relief. Most importantly, I felt like a mom. I enjoyed the diapers, the baths, the cries, the night time feedings. Yes, I enjoyed waking up in the middle of the night to feed the most precious gift from god, my son.

I have never felt more bonded and more connected to someone like Owen in my entire life. Yes, being a mother is stressful, but I wouldn't change my life for a moment. I couldn't imagine my life any different than it is right now. My son is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I celebrate every day. He brings me such joy and happiness and such great appreciation for life.