One Day Can Be
“The anger is starting to rise, I could feel my blood boiling and starting to overflow. I could feel my heart racing. It’s so fast, not in a good way. I’m starting to struggle to breathe. I’m so mad, I’m so angry, I can’t help it. I feel like im drowning.
I don’t know why I got so mad. I don’t know why I was screaming with all my might. I feel terrible! They must think I’m the worst mom in the world. My poor babies, they dont understand what mommy’s going through. It’s not their fault. I’m a terrible mother. Who have I become? Why am I always so angry?
Ugh, my body hurts. I don’t want to get out of bed. I have to get Arty & Cassi ready to take Apollo to school. But everything hurts. I have to get Apollo up. I have to get his lunch ready, his breakfast. I wonder what he’ll have. I don’t want to get up. Ouch, my back really hurt. Ugh, my head hurts. Man, I have to get everyone dressed for outside. Carry them all to the car. The sun is hurting my eyes and my head even more. My body is in so much pain.
Its 330, Apollo wants a friend over. No! I don’t want anyone over. I don’t want to have to tend to another child. My heart is racing again. I can’t breathe. What happened? Where did this come from? Why is this happening to me? Ugh, I got so mad about something so normal. He just wanted a friend over.
I can’t stand all the running around and the screaming. STOP! They’re kids, they run, they laugh. Why am I upset?
*I start to cry* I can’t stop! It hurts so much. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Make it all stop! I don’t want to be here. I wanna disappear. I don’t want to hurt my kids anymore. I’m always just upset. I don’t want to make it harder on J. He’ll be fine without me. He loves our kids. He’ll find the strength.”
Having Postpartum Depression
This is an okay day for someone dealing with Postpartum Depression. It gets much worst. Uncontrollable crying, crying for no reason, can’t deal with tasks that used to be done before, irrational behaviour, paranoid, OCD, anxiety, can’t sleep, no appetite, you want to eat everything, distant, irritable, all bottled into one.
Women with PPD goes through it differently than the next. Women with PPD are not weak. Women with PPD are not bad mothers. Women with PPD are not incapable. Women with PPD struggle deeply. Women with PPD shouldn’t be blamed for an illness they did not choose or expect to have.
I received a letter from the school last month, that Apollo has missed a total of 33 days and 7 lates. It’s how I knew something was wrong. I had never had him away from school so much before since he started his academic journey. Aside from really sick-days, he always got to school. It wasn’t so much the lates that bothered me, but the fact that I was feeling these things so hard, I was losing to it. I was upset. More with myself, for being so weak to put my child first.
“You could be the strongest person emotionally, but having PPD erases that.”
Acknowledging Something is Wrong
I had recently just found out I am dealing with this sickness. I don’t know everything about it because reading about it gives me anxiety. I’ve had it for a while probably during my pregnancy with the second one. You don’t notice it and relate it to stress because you’re too busy carrying on. Having children isn’t the cause of this. It’s more than that.
I still don’t know how to cope. I still don’t understand how to deal with it. But I try with all of me everyday for my family. It isn’t one day it’s good and it’s gone. It lingers. It sneaks up. It’s always there.
I got the consultation done to confirm it by another doctor, a female one. She also recommended I speak to our family doctor. I was afraid to see our family physician. He’s a male doctor. As much as he is more than qualified to diagnose me and provide options for help. I felt like as a woman he couldn’t understand what it meant. He’s seen me time and time before, with all the kids in tow. He’s noticed I struggled to get through the appointment with my children being challenging. I didn’t want him to deem me incapable of motherhood. I didn’t want him to deem me unfit to take care of my children, worst maybe get my children taken away. But men go through this as well.
We finally seen the doctor. Telling him had me in tears. My anxiety had the best of me. I was so afraid to tell him. I felt so defeated. I felt so embarrassed. Here I am, asking for help because I can’t deal with this on my own. But I’m a mom. I’m supposed to be strong! No, postpartum “does not discriminate”. It doesn’t matter who you are. This comes in and takes all of you for a spin of torment and pain.
He offered options of help. Therapy; asking family or friends to help for a month; getting a babysitter twice a week so J and I can focus on ourselves; medication to ease the struggle.
“Medication won’t erase your daily tasks, or potential triggers, but it will help to ease the moments where you’re overcome with anxiety and everything in between.”
The Battle Continues
I have a ways to go. It is far from over. I have years of this I never dealt with. So day-by-day my family battles through this. Days get hard. Hard for everyone, and not just me. But I’m determined, we’re determined to get through this and that’s what counts.
One day is different from the next. I can’t call it to change the fate of the day, but I have help to get me through it, until I can find the strength to be stronger than this sickness. I have support from J, who never ceases to give me strength and be my strength when all of it is hard. I know it’s difficult on him. I know he feels helpless. I know he wishes he could take this from me. But only time will swallow this thing up. My kids swell my heart with love. Their smile, their laughter, their presence gives me strength. They are the very reason I want to get better. They are the very reason I want to find my way back to living.
“If you or anyone you know who is a mother, or a father (it doesn’t matter if the baby is a year or seven years old, this happens) seem to show a change in behaviour please see your doctor. Do not disregard it as hormones or being new parents.
It happens to anyone, and is never expected. “