Postpartum depression is very common in women who experience complications during pregnancy or delivery. To say I had complications would be a gross understatement. Not surprisingly, at least to anyone but me, I was diagnosed with PPD about three and a half weeks after our Ninja Baby was born. I am not on medication for it because my therapist says he is still unsure if I have postpartum depression or if I actually have post traumatic stress disorder. So for the time being I am forced to discuss my emotions once a week with a therapist, and this is honestly not something I am good at and it is not something I enjoy. I would prefer to stuff all these unwelcome emotions down into a deep, dark hole than have to deal with them.
At first, I was very ashamed that I was so weak I somehow got postpartum depression. I was ashamed of the hour long crying jags that I could neither predict nor control. I would cry until I threw up and my body literally stopped producing tears, and then I would sob with no tears. I have never been a crier. I rarely cry. So I cannot begin to express to you how horrifying it was/is to burst into tears and not be able to stop it or control it. It was worse to not even be sure why I was crying in the first place.
I also cannot explain to you the depth of sorrow and loss and hopelessness and anger that I was often assaulted with, that I am still occasionally assaulted with. These emotions weren't normal in their intensity. They were huge emotions, emotions that blacked out everything else--that blocked out my ability to feel or think about anything else. These were all consuming emotions.
I am a control freak and I am typically very much in control of expressing sadness in front of other people. It was/is terrifying to not be able to suppress that sadness when it comes on. It was worse if, God forbid, my emotional breakdown was witnessed by someone else. When it finally stopped I was left feeling inadequate, ashamed, and disgusted with myself because someone else saw me broken.
Worse than anything else, though, worse than the crying fits and the hopelessness.....feeling the way I felt made me feel like I was a terrible mother who did not even deserve her baby. Do you know how awful that is?
I had several well-meaning sorts tell me, "Oh! It's just baby blues." But it wasn't baby blues. It wasn't "just" anything. These are amplified emotions, super-emotions, emotions on steroids.
This is a mental illness. Typing that, "mental illness," made me cringe and want to vomit. There is a stigma against mental illness in Western culture. People think you are weak or less than if you are somehow unable to control your emotions. I've been told to just get a grip.
But here's the thing I have come to realize: I can't just get a grip. I can no more control postpartum depression than I can control my rapid heartbeat or my endometriosis. And you know what else? Admitting that I absolutely can't control this...that somehow makes me feel better. But I am still ashamed that I have it. I am still ashamed to write this and share it. So why write it or share it at all? Because there are a million other women out there with postpartum depression and maybe one of them will read this and find in me a kindred soul and know, for just one second, that they are not alone.
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