I saw something on BuzzFeed recently (what did we ever do without BuzzFeed?) that showed pictures of women in the throes of partpartum depression. They were all smiling and cheery looking, playing with rosy cheeked babies and standing next to well dressed spouses. These women were showered and dressed, and some even had done their hair and makeup. The captions to the photos were all different, but the general takeaway was that for the moments/days/weeks before the picture was taken, these women had attempted suicide, had depressive periods, or had other episodes of postpartum depression.
Having struggled with depression at various points in my life, I knew that I was more likely to have postpartum depression based on my history. I also rationalized with myself that I had spend thousands of dollars and hours and tears trying to get a living baby in my arms, and that should somehow magically cancel out any depressive thoughts I may have.
Yeah, this didn’t happen.
I am 17 weeks (yikes, that was fast) postpartum, and I am struggling.
I empathize with these BuzzFeed women now, where I thought before that I’d only have sympathy. I realize the power of the mind, the power of hormones, and how your day can be fine, and then suddenly it’s not. I realize postpartum depression doesn’t mean that you don’t love your baby. I realize postpartum depression does not mean you have to want to hurt yourself or someone else.
For me, postpartum depression is like a blanket of tense that is wrapped around me, always. It doesn’t shrug off easily. I can’t help but think of those thunder shirt that you put on a dog during a storm. Lately, I keep thinking about how nice it would be to wear a thunder shirt for that feeling of calm instead of chaos (is that allowed in the dress code at work?).
So, I’m going back to my tried and true methods that work for me to deal with my depression. This includes seeing a professional, trying to get outside and exercise, trying to ear right and trying (ha!) to get enough sleep. All of this is easier said than done, though. The luxuries that would afford me an easier and more efficient way to make time for these things are luxuries I don’t have, but I still need to keep plugging away the best I know how. Isn’t that all anyone can do?
I keep reminding myself to breathe. I keep thinking about how, in order to get better at just about anything, one needs to practice. I’m practicing taking care of myself, and I’m practicing being proud of this stage of my life, because even though it’s not pretty or glamorous, it’s who I am.
I’m human, and it hurts to be human right now. But, I’m also still confident that through it all that I will come out ok on the other side. Like any other part of my life, this too will pass, and I’ll someday look at that thunder shirt and realize I can toss it back into my closet, because the storms that come will just now roll on through instead of lingering.
Copyright 2014 Anne Mathay