Still Not Normal

Photo copyright Wisconsin Kelly

A few weeks ago, I gave one side of my postpartum experience.  I thought I'd take another chance to give the other.

After what seemed like futile attempts to have another child, we had accepted that our son would be one and only.  We changed life direction...and then I learned I was pregnant.

Having experienced what I did after my pregnancy with Z, I immediately knew I couldn't do that again.  My first prenatal appointment with my very awesome doctor was a conversation about the impact of my son's birth.  With a husband, son, new baby, job, and LIFE, I refused to check out again.   I anticipated having moments where I had no desire to leave my bed and the same disconnect I had with him.

What I didn't anticpate is what REALLY happened.  My love and desire to protect E was there from the minute I was born.  In the hospital, I had that same initial guilt for failing to feel that way about Z. I acknowledged it, and remembered I'd more than made up for it in the 8 years that had passed.    My doctor had prescribed Zoloft to ward off any of those postpartum issues.  I initially didn't take it, but after a conversation where I learned it can take 2 weeks to be effective, I gave in to a small dose.

Smart girl, listening to the man who actually WENT to medical school.

About 3 weeks after E's birth, I noticed some things.  I didn't want to go out, I didn't want her around others, and I was only comfortable if she was with one of four people.   I tried to rationalize it as simply being the fact that she was born in the winter, and there was the potential for her new immune system to be weak.   In reality, I had the beginnings of what would become full blown Postpartum Anxiety and OCD.

Again, from Postpartum Progress, the symptoms of Postpartum Anxiety:

You may have postpartum anxiety or postpartum OCD if you have had a baby within the last 12 months and are experiencing some of these symptoms:

• Your thoughts are racing. You can’t quiet your mind. You can’t settle down. You can’t relax.
• You feel like you have to be doing something at all times. Cleaning bottles. Cleaning baby clothes. Cleaning the house. Doing work. Entertaining the baby. Checking on the baby.
• You are worried. Really worried. All. The. Time. Am I doing this right? Will my husband come home from his trip? Will the baby wake up? Is the baby eating enough? Is there something wrong with my baby that I’m missing? No matter what anyone says to reassure you it doesn’t help.
• You may be having disturbing thoughts. Thoughts that you’ve never had before. Scary thoughts that make you wonder whether you aren’t the person you thought you were. They fly into your head unwanted and you know they aren’t right, that this isn’t the real you, but they terrify you and they won’t go away. These thoughts may start with the words “What if …”
• You are afraid to be alone with your baby because of scary thoughts or worries. You are also afraid of things in your house that could potentially cause harm, like kitchen knives or stairs, and you avoid them like the plague.
• You may feel the need to check things constantly. Did I lock the door? Did I lock the car? Did I turn off the oven? Is the baby breathing?
• You may be having physical symptoms like stomach cramps or headaches, shakiness or nausea. You might even have panic attacks.
• You feel like a captive animal, pacing back and forth in a cage. Restless. On edge.
• You can’t eat. You have no appetite.
• You’re having trouble sleeping. You are so, so tired, but you can’t sleep.
• You feel a sense of dread, like something terrible is going to happen.
• You know something is wrong. You may not know you have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, but you know the way you are feeling is NOT right. You think you’ve “gone crazy”.
• You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you’ve lost the “old you” forever.
• You are afraid that if you reach out for help people will judge you. Or that your baby will be taken away.

I had many of those.  If someone jokingly commented about "stealing" my baby away, I immediately began to imagine graphic, unpleasant ways to prevent that from happening.    I had fears about what if I couldn't protect my children.  What if someone tried to really take them?  What if I couldn't teach them to guard themselves?  What if that same thing happened to them?    It began to impact my every day life.  My husband wanted to get out; I had near panic attacks at the thought.  We went to church on Christmas Eve.  I still can't tell you the content of the sermon. I was too busy watching other people to make sure they weren't watching us.   

I knew I needed more help.

First, we increased my dosage again.  It helped a little but not enough.  Next, I did something I hadn't done before:  I looked for help.  Z had seen a psychologist due to ADD symptoms, so I made an appointment to be assessed.  That led to a referral to a counselor.  I was worried about what others might think about my need for therapy.  I hoped my husband and mom and friends wouldn't think it meant I didn't trust them.  I was just worried that they might not be able to effectively help me out of my own head, given that they love me too much.

When I started therapy, I think I initially expected her to help me figure it out.  After a few sessions, I realized her job was to help me figure it out for myself.  Her job wasn't to fix me, it was to help me fix myself. 

With one more med dosage change and more therapy sessions, I began to feel mostly like myself again.  I've always had OCD tendancies, but I was finally able to control them. Getting upset didn't lead to baseboard cleaning on my hands and kneew. And while I still get up to check my children some nights, it's not every night and it's not over and over again.   I'm able to leave the house, go to church, be in public, and simply say thanks when someone gets close enough to tell me E is adorable.  My nightly bouts with insomnia are getting fewer and further apart.

My experience this time has been so much healthier.  In addition to the meds and therapy, I've met three wonderful women who also have varied degrees of PPD/PPA.  Our shared experiences make for a safe haven.  Nothing we can admit thinking is met with judgement or scorn.  We all know it's not normal, and we are able to help one another through those moments and make it over to the other side.

Find a doctor, a support group, a friend.  Talk to SOMEONE.  Doctors and Nurses: again I implore you to not let "I'm okay" be the reason you don't dig a little further.   If she doesn't look okay, odds are she isn't.

If you are the friend, check in often.  Don't be afraid to suggest your new mom friend get help if you recognize the signs above in her. She might get offended at first.  Keep supporting and suggesting.  When you visit, offer to do laundry, a meal, bathtime for other children in addition to getting new squish snuggles.

As before, I'll say it again: IT'S OKAY TO ADMIT YOU NEED HELP!


Because, in the end, normal is overrated anyway.