I recall the moment it hit me. I was sitting on the nursery floor trying to fold laundry while listening to a screaming baby and a whiny toddler. The overwhelming sensation to run, run away from it all and not look back. I wanted to leave the very 2 humans that I so desperately prayed for. The boys would be better off without me and my husband would be happier without me there. Crying at everything and being overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks was what the first 60 days of partpartum looked like for me. Not only was I crying nonstop but I was angry. The littlest things would set me off and I was full of rage. Rage that made my whole body warm. It was really scary.
I didn’t bond with Bridger very well. I kind of pushed him away because he was the cause of my pain, physically and mentally. He cried nonstop and I couldn’t console him. I hated myself and I felt he hated me too. I felt very unneeded and unloved. This isn’t what I pictured postpartum to be. Not at all. I put so much pressure on myself, unknowingly, to be the perfect mom. I really thought that I would have the baby and life would continue on as normal. I never thought I’d suffer from postpartum depression or anxiety. How could I? How could I not be happy with the very thing I have literally always wanted? Your postpartum self doesn’t care about what you went through before. Believe me, none of that matters when you’re in the thick of anxiety.
My doctor and our pediatrician knew something was up. They asked me at our appointments if I’m eating 3 meals a day, was I showering regularly, basically “are you taking care of you?” I lied. I was fine. I would get myself out of this funk. I continued to battle my way out of it. 3 months postpartum now and I’m feeling better. I still don’t feel “normal.” I have to remind myself every single day who I am and what is important to me.
I’d like to offer some advice for those watching a loved one suffer from postpartum depression/anxiety. Speak up, offer support. Even if they don’t accept your help or even respond back to your text or call, it matters to them. I had a few friends reach out to me and express their own battle with ppd and it helped me so much knowing I was not alone. A simple “I’m thinking of you” text helped me out of some dark thoughts and to those who reached out, thank you! To those who didn’t, I remember the lack of support but when you need it from me, I’ll be there for you. We all need help at times. I fully believe that through hard times you find yourself and although I am still figuring out life as a mom of 2, I know I am needed. This experience has taught me a lot. I know I am worthy of what my life has in it. I was meant to be the mom of these 2 adorable boys, and I will fight through anything for them.
Hi my name is Whitney and I'm a mom to 2 adorable boys. Here you'll find our story of infertility, adoption, grief, and hope. I'm an open book so you'll never know what I'll post next!