Postpartum & PPD

I am so blown away by the amount of people who have read the introduction to branch & bramble; I am in awe of the support!

For my first real post, I figured we would dive into the messy, not-so fun subject of life postpartum and PPD (postpartum depression). The experience I had with PPD is what truly drove me to start branch & bramble, to hopefully shed light on the many facets it has, and the ways I did (and did not) handle it. I knew it was a very real possibility I would have PPD, and that it would probably be a higher level than what most women experience. Eventually we will get to the stories of when Josh and I found out we were pregnant, and Ezra's birth story, but for now, this subject is the heaviest on my heart, and what I feel like is talked about least.

When I went in for my six week check-up, I filled out the PPD survey. You guys, I didn't even need the survey. I knew something was extremely wrong, although I might not have known the extent. I went in, sat down, and started talking to the PA. She scored my survey, looked at me and said "You've scored pretty high..". I told her that I didn't need the test, I had been feeling off, and struggling for a while since giving birth. She then asked what was going on, and in what ways was I struggling.

I. Broke. Down.

I started to ugly cry in the exam room. Once I was able to regain myself I told her, "No one told me I would hate my husband". That was the first time I ever admitted to anyone, other than Josh, that I truly felt like I hated him. I never knew that PPD would impact the way I interacted and felt towards my husband. I had always believed it to affect bonding between mom and baby, or that it's displayed by having negative or harmful thoughts about yourself (as a mom) and/or towards baby.

I quickly learned, however, that what I was experiencing was very common - and honestly no one seemed too surprised with how it was manifesting. BUT NO ONE TOLD ME.

No one told me this was such a common occurrence before I was living it. I believe that it played a massive part in me buying into the thought that there was something severely wrong with me. I also never spoke up about it since I didn't quite understand what I was experiencing. My stubborn mindset that "I should be able to handle whatever was thrown my way", gave me the illusion that what I was experiencing was not textbook PPD, and therefore couldn't be what I was experiencing.

You see - I am someone who has had a battle with depression the majority of my adolescent, and all of my adult life. Throughout the years I have found ways to cope, ways to work with, or around it, and some days just smile because that was all I could do. However, PPD is and was for me, a completely different monster. I felt as though there were two starkly different "mes"- a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, all day, everyday.

I was able to see and logically appreciate Josh for what he would do for me, and how he would help. He was and is a magnificent dad. He would get Ezra in the middle of the night and change his diaper before bringing him back for me to nurse him - because that was all he could do, but he consistently did it. When we switched to exclusive bottle-feeding (another story for a different time), he would feed Ezra so I could pump, and not have to be up longer than necessary through the night.

PPD however, was never impressed with any of this - and I could not shut it off.

Unlike the depression I have experienced in the past, where I was able to be rational, and somewhat separate my words and actions from my depression, PPD took over every thought, word, action, and I was powerless. PPD would always win. I couldn't stand Josh. I despised his presence. I would miss him while he was at work, but as soon as he walked through the door I would become irritated, and I'd ignore him completely. I felt utterly insane. I would want to reach out, to talk to him, or hug him. Some nights, sitting right next to Josh, I would be on the verge of tears because I was missing him so desperately, but also becoming so annoyed if he even looked at me.

I felt completely crazy, and also guilty for feeling the way I did, especially because he was being so sweet and helpful. It became an endless cycle of negative emotions towards my husband and feeling awful for those emotions. How he handled it, I'm still unsure (although I am going to ask him a few questions for a post to give some dads/future dads some help and hope in this arena). Our relationship was stretched, tried, and in shambles for a period of time. I was refusing to try, I couldn't stand the idea of going out on a date with Josh, or leaving Ezra (not because I'm a "hover" mom, but because I felt like he was my responsibility to take care of, and that I shouldn't be asking anyone to take care of my child).

I finally came up for air in August, not to say everything was clear, but I finally felt like I could breathe. I felt like the moments when I wanted to spend time with Josh started to outweigh the moments when I wanted to smother him with a pillow (kidding...kind of). After my six week check-up, I met with a social worker, who referred me to a therapist. I met with her weekly for 3 months and was able to talk out certain issues and feelings I had. It wasn't easy for me, I have always felt like I could handle things on my own. If Josh hadn't asked me so persistently, I am not sure I would have ever agreed to it, but I attribute a lot of the health and clarity I started to find to having an unbiased, third party to listen to my madness. It was probably the only constructive and healthy choice I made during that time.

You are not alone, momma. Postpartum life is a major transition, and postpartum depression is very real. It takes on many different masks: hopelessness, anger, anxiety, OCD - type behavior, mood swings, issues connecting with baby, issues connecting with your significant other, the list goes on and on. If you are feeling any of these symptoms, or even if you just feel off, especially if it's past the "baby blues" stage - reach out. Most of my mom friends were back in Marquette, MI, and I felt like I had no one to talk to in my current city, so I became more isolated than I truly was by refusing to pick up the phone and call or text someone who had been through this.

This is normal. It is okay. You aren't failing and you aren't crazy. Please reach out, find someone to talk to who can love you through it. Just because it isn't talked about doesn't mean it shouldn't be. Remember to give yourself grace and patience, and take care of yourself.