PPD

No one likes to talk about PPD. I didn't like talking about it at first, either. I was ashamed; I felt like a failure. What kind of mother thinks about throwing her baby out the window? Or putting him in a drawer and shutting it so she can't hear his crying? The only person I wasn't afraid to tell was DH. I don't know why, but I knew I could tell him. I was terrified to tell my mother, even though I knew she'd be totally understanding. I don't even know if MIL knows at this point.

I have many memories of sitting in the rocking chair, bawling my eyes out as I hold Noah. Those first six weeks were the hardest and most miserable weeks of my life. Even though I was so overjoyed that Noah was here, I was so sad. We weren't sleeping much, and that was taking a toll on me. I didn't feel like I was recovering very well, but having no prior experience I didn't realize that something was off. It wasn't until the thoughts of harming Noah started that I realized things were very wrong. I was utterly terrified to be left alone with him. Not because I was afraid I'd hurt him (although sometimes, I was afraid) but because when Noah would start screaming and crying, it made me panicky and angry and would leave me sobbing. DH works an overnight shift on Saturdays, and the thought of being by myself with the baby sent me into a panic every time. Luckily my sister was able to come spend the night to help out. I'm so grateful that she gave up her time to be my back-up.

I decided it was time to call my doctor when I was lying on the couch with Noah and he started screaming. I found myself raising my hand to smack him. Luckily, I came to my senses before doing anything, but when I saw my hand in the air in front of me and realized what almost happened, I lost it. I cried and cried -- aching, gut-wrenching sobs. How could I come so close to hurting my baby boy? A little boy that DH and I struggled so hard to bring into this world. What was wrong with me?

Calling my OB's office to tell them that I thought I had PPD was scary. And when I went to my appointment, and the nurse asked me why I thought I had PPD, and I had to admit out loud to a total stranger that I kept thinking about harming my baby, I felt so crappy. And rehashing everything to the OB (not my regular OB, but one I'd never met before) just made me feel like a mess. He gave me 2 weeks' worth of antidepressants, and was sure I wouldn't need more than 2 weeks' worth. I wish he'd been right.

The pills worked wonders. No longer did I feel like everything was hopeless. The light at the end of the tunnel was there again. I felt more confident, more sure that everything would work out beautifully. I entertained the idea of giving Noah a sibling or two.

Then the pills ran out. And we found out the prescription costs $140 a month. There's no way we can afford that right now. We're not even paying some of the bills we owe for Noah's birth yet because the money just isn't there. So, we've been attempting to manage the PPD as best as we can. Things have improved lately, but sometimes it just takes the tiniest situation to trigger it again and I feel like I'm right back down again.

Yesterday was another solo day for Noah and me. DH worked 7am-3pm and normally I work from 8am-noon, but my MIL couldn't babysit so I was home. I was nervous, but knew I just had to suck it up and hope for the best. The entire time DH was gone, Noah was doing great. I remember changing his diaper right as DH came home, and I was so glad I had handled the entire day well (noting, though, that it wouldn't have been nearly as good if Noah had been fussy). Then, about an hour later, Noah started spitting up and crying. DH put him in the swing and sat down beside him. Noah continued to cry, then started to sob and scream. DH just kept him in the swing. I started to get frustrated, then angry at his lack of compassion. Eventually I decided to take Noah out of the swing and nurse him to see if that would help (it did). As I nursed him, I felt unreasonably angry at DH. I bit back so many hateful, hurtful things that I wanted to say. The anger then turned into deep sadness. Once I handed Noah to DH after he was done nursing, I just buried my head in my arms and cried (quietly, because I didn't want DH to know I was crying). The sadness was overwhelming. About two hours later, I started to pull out of it. I was so upset that I'd "relapsed".

Today is better. I'm at work, so I've got a break from most things baby-related. I'm seriously considering phoning the OB's office again to see if they'd call in a different prescription for me (one that doesn't cost an arm and a leg). I hate to resort to meds again, but they really did help, and I honestly have no idea how much longer this will go on if I keep trying to tough it out without help. The idea of suffering from this for another 6 months to a year is an extremely daunting one.

Writing this all out has been helpful. It's nice to be able to write it and not feel ashamed. PPD is a real thing, and it's a real issues for many moms, and I really hope I can at least remove some of the stigma about it. I don't want any other new moms to feel ashamed for feeling how they do. Not talking about it makes it worse. If you feel like you're suffering from it, TELL SOMEONE. It really does help.