I used to be like everyone. I figured PPD was mostly just a sad woman with a newborn who's hormones were out of whack. Then when my son was born, we experienced a pretty traumatic birth and C section. My milk never came in. I started Reglan to help produce milk and it caused PPD. I saw a doctor, got off the meds, stopped trying to breastfeed, simple right? I'm fixed.
Except it's not that simple. Yesterday my son turned 9 months old and I still struggle daily with PPD. Turns out it wasn't "just the medication". I'm in school full time. I don't work. I'm blessed to have my surprise miracle son, as well as the opportunity to stay home with him. But that's not right either, because PPD doesn't care how blessed you are. This is the silent struggle. The stigma. Sure, once we're all being candid behind our screens we'll talk about it. With strangers. With "internet friends". I mean, if you talk about it with PEOPLE you'll be a sad pitiful sobbing mess with runny $23 mascara, right? And please explain to me why $23 mascara is running?
PPD is characterized by so many things I never considered. Anger. Frustration. I mean- white hot anger. Anxiety, lack of sleep (because who's sleeping that has a child under 5, am I right?), sadness, the desire to be around people, the desire to hole away and never go anywhere, the hatred of the sun and the heat because it demands my happiness, and the hope that I'll get ANOTHER sunny day to try again.
It leaves me sobbing in the hallway because I want SO badly to be the best mom for my son. It makes me angry because I have no time away from him. It makes me feel guilty because I want time away from him. I am, after all, a super hero, right? I shouldn't need time. It leaves me amazed and so very thankful when those big blue eyes light up and he laughs that deep silly laugh of his. And at the end of the night, PPD makes me angry again. It clouds my thoughts and gets in front of my eyes so all I see is what's in my head. I don't see my son. I don't see my husband. I don't see me.
And that's it right there isn't it? Where did I go? Who is this woman with this body, this hair, this boy? I'm certain I don't know her. Not anymore. I'd love to get to know her, but quite frankly, I just don't have the time.
Mental health professionals say it takes at LEAST a year for a woman's body and mind to return to normal after having a baby. That's before experiencing PPD. I consider it hard time.
Most of my days are so very good. The last few days have been so hard. So rough. So exhausting. All I see in the mirror is this shell of a woman I once was- with that boy I prayed for and dreamed of for 15 years. He deserves Mom. So he's going to get Mom. I'm not sure where Krystal is, but hopefully one day soon I can introduce the two and they'll like each other.
Until then, I'll rest on God. Because there's a reason he gave me THIS boy at THIS time and it must be because I can do it. So I am determined to do it well. I am determined to choose the happy. To have a smile. And to trust God.
Comments