Stories of Hope

A friend wrote me to me recently to offer support for my postpartum depression. Amid the words of support and love, she asked a sincere question that has been echoing in my mind ever since: 

"I am not sure why people are so scared to speak up about postpartum depression, do they think that it makes them a bad person or a bad mom?"

Prior to my own diagnosis with PPD, I was a very passionate advocate for mothers who struggled with this illness. I offer unfailing support to those who mentioned they were in a dark place. I encouraged them to seek help and assured them that there was nothing to be ashamed of. The question above often lingered in my mind, as it was obvious to me this was an illness and something that could be easily treated if they would just be willing to admit to someone what was going on.

Then, when my fourth child was born, I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression.

The truth is, everything I told struggling mothers was true. There is nothing to be ashamed of. It is treatable if you will seek help. It's not you, it's the illness. But no one could have convinced me of these things when I found myself in the darkness. How could I not be a bad mother? I screamed at my daughters daily, for no reason at all. When my 2 year old daughter accidentally broke her training potty, I threw it across the room as my irrational rage-filled words brought her to uncontrollable shaking and weeping. I found myself increasingly needing to hide in the bathroom, as the intrusive thoughts that filled my head turned violent and irrational. I couldn't even trust myself to be in the same room with my children. 

I am forever grateful for a strong, supportive husband who immediately offered to take the children to his parents so I could go to my doctor. I am forever grateful for a knowledgeable, compassionate doctor who took the time to listen to my confessions and in the end take my hand and say, "You are not a bad mother. This is an illness, and we will treat it. You are not alone." I am also forever grateful for supportive friends like the one who recently wrote to me, reminding me that Postpartum Depression is not only not something that defines my worth as a mother, but is also an illness that needs to be discussed more openly so the stigma of "bad mother" can be torn down.

I must once again say thank you to Risaroo Baby Carriers for their release of Hope in the Dark, the handwoven Girasol wrap designed to represent Postpartum Depression. Their willingness to bring awareness to this illness has given many mothers the confidence to speak up about their own struggles and even seek help for the first time. Some of these mothers shared their experiences with me, including stories of compassion and support by fellow babywearers, and I want to take this opportunity (with their permission) to share their stories with you. Each one teaches us something about PPD that most people do not know! Let's continue sharing our stories and breaking down stigmas wherever we can.

Ashley P.'s Lesson: PPD can linger for years if we don't ask for help!

"I wanted to share my "Hope in the Dark" story with you. I had my first 8 1/2 years ago. Nothing went as expected (told at 20 weeks it was a girl found out at 37 it was a boy, turned into an induced labor for nearly 48 hours resulting in a c-section). I ended up with undiagnosed ppd, I was too ashamed to talk to anyone about my feelings. I don't remember most of his first year of life. I had my second son 4 years later and never felt the baby blues, instead I was the happiest I had ever been. Except I still had ppd when it came to my oldest. I now have a 1 year old little girl and still get short and anxious with my oldest. I broke down crying when I read about Hope and what it stands for, and called right then to make an appointment to talk with my primary doctor to see what can be done. I knew I needed Hope in the Dark in my life, but like many I did not have receive the [Right to Buy]. I congratulated the winners on Risaroo's post and 30 minutes later a wonderful momma reached out to me. She won RTB a [Ring Sling] and wanted to let me buy it at retail from her. I was going to do layaway if I won, and she said that was fine. We have set up a payment plan and I will be snuggling my baby in our new RS in 3 weeks. I was once again in tears when she reached out to me saying she just wanted it to go to somebody who would give it the love it deserves."

Piper N.'s Lesson: PPD can come on as a result of pregnancy or infant loss!

"I've always struggled with pregnancy, I miscarried twins before I met my husband...and did my best to "get back to normal" as quickly as I could.
After meeting my husband, and realizing THIS was the father to my children. It was time to start our family! Our pregnancy with sweet Addie was amazing. She was a mexican food lover! We made it until the bitter end, but sadly, she was stillborn....the loss of Addie shattered my soul. I had to consciously think about breathing in, and out. My arms were just as empty as my heart, and after a few months I decided I wanted to try again. Avery, our second daughter, didn't make it either. Why wasn't I good enough? Every day was torture, I had no idea what was wrong with me. After many many tests, we foundy blood clotting disorder. Thank you God? At least we know, right? So I took my time processing if we wanted to try again or adopt. We chose to try one more time. We tried for what seemed like forever, and finally, my pickle face (wherever that came from!) Charlie came along. I did everything I could think of. Ate things I couldn't pronounce, took shots in my stomach every day, twice a day....and nine months later, for the first time in my title as a mother, I got to hear that cry! The most glorious day of my life. After coming home, my milk wasn't coming in, and everyone was pressuring me to give him formula....I couldn't sleep....he couldn't sleep...he was hungry...I constantly felt terrible. Physically and emotionally I was exhausted. I noticed myself thinking that if I couldn't make him happy, I should go....he deserves to be happy, you can't do that. So I called my doctor. After seeing her, it all came up...I want Addie. I want Avery. I want my family. What color were their eyes? Why didn't I pay more attention?! Why didn't I soak more in?!...she also sent me to get checked for a blood clot...where I was put in the hospital for a huge DVT...then went back the same day I was released with "the most pulmonary embolisms ever recorded at this hospital"....I spent a week in the ICU....I didn't think my depression could get any worse. ..but that did it. Getting home I was a shell...I tried to push my sadness out of the way for a couple of months and noticed myself feeling better, until I had another emergency hospital stay, this time for two weeks...he won't even know me anymore...I couldn't be a mom to any of my children. Everything came rising back up. And oh how it stings... I've been back home for a couple of months now...I am doing quite a bit better by just living in the moment with my son...and FINALLY, after almost three years, I finished Addie's headstone design. She will have it by her birthday....it sounds odd, but that has been a HUGE hurdle for me...we lost Avery too early on for her to have had a burial, so I incorporated little things to symbolize the entire family. I'm shocked at how much lighter I feel...it's a struggle every day, but I am absolutely honored to have been the one to spend every second of their life with them, and am thrilled to watch my son thrive. Bitter, bittersweet. Wrapping my son close has given me such a full heart...something so simple, changed my life. I get to make sure I experience every second, every smile, fart, and giggle....this, is what I've been waiting for. No matter how rough my day is, swaying heart to heart with that little man always lifts me up."

Leslie F.'s Lesson: Talking about our PPD can be therapeutic!

"So I had my first pregnancy about 3 years ago but I was not in a good place in life.. I was drinking a lot and abusing a couple of substances. It was a dark time for me since I had an uncle and a cousin both die right before I found out.. My cousin died at the age of 8 of a disease that he got because his mom drank and did drugs not knowing she was pregnant... Just like me. I couldn't find the courage to tell anyone or do anything than get an abortion. It was and still is the hardest thing I ever did and still feel sadness over this... anyways soon after I had the abortion I got pregnant.. Again... This time I didn't want to do the same thing as before.. I wanted to get better and be a better person for the little growing inside of me.. I stopped drinking and started to quit the other drugs I was on and almost got completely sober.. That's when I went for an ultrasound and they discovered I had miscarried.. It broke my heart and my spirit.. I felt like I was being cosmically punished for the mistake I had made initially with my abortion.. I felt like I was worthless as a woman who was unfit to be a mother. It took me months of regressing and then self inflicted rehab to finally get myself in shape and clean from everything. I was finally coming to terms with the fact that I was not a horrible person, but rather a girl who had lost her way and made mistakes while doing so.. But I was starting to feel better again and I was getting into the best shape of my life. It was about that time that I stopped getting my period and started feeling nauseous just like before.. And to my happy, guarded surprise I found out I was pregnant again! Fast forward to now, my baby is 11 months old and thriving. It is beyond a joy to have her in my life... But there's always that nasty PPD which likes to follow me around and remind me of the past and constantly make me feel lesser than I (most of the time) know I am. It's hard. And as I sit here writing this alone in my dirty house that I'm supposed to be cleaning while hubs is at school and my baby with my dad, I can only cry silently for relief. I'm not sure why but this is how I spend my free alone time, silently crying, trying to get it all out so I can put my smile back on when everyone gets home. I still am struggling every day. It's not easy but I'd like to think I'm strong for remaining hopeful that one day I won't just sit here and cry, and that the fake smile I put on for everyone will one day be real... That's why this wrap would mean the world to me, even if I don't win though, I'd like to thank whoever reads this for hearing me. I've never verbalized any of this to anyone and feel a sense of liberation just from writing this."

Stacy D.'s Lesson: PPD can affect those who become parents via Surrogacy or adoption!

" I am a mother via surrogacy and adoption and had no idea that I could experience PPD. But you can!!! The chemicals of holding and feeding and loving on a newborn can trigger REAL PPD! I experienced a combination of PPD and infertility-related PTSD that hit me like a wall. It took support groups and a year off from work in disability leave to find my footing again. I didn't talk about it with ANYONE because I thought, "What right do I have, to experience PPD when I fought so hard to have babies???" But feelings and chemicals are real. And having everything about your life turned upside down, even when it's a good thing, is terrifying. Even if you know, with all your heart, how fortunate you are to have your precious babies. It is not a reflection of your gratitude for them. It is OK to talk about it. It is OK to be imperfect. 
heart emoticon Oh! I should mention! When I was REALLY struggling to bond with my daughter, and was feeling hopeless and panicked and like a complete failure, baby-wearing worked a miracle. Every night, I would put her in my Lenny Lamb, and she would fight it at first. But within a few minutes, she would be snuggling, and then she would be sleeping. I would just hold her and smell her and kiss her head, and within a couple of months, she went from not caring who was holding her, to crying when I left her sight. You'd think that was a bad thing, but it was the sweetest relief for me in my PPD fog, to know that she knew I was her mother. Especially because I didn't carry her."

Amanda M.'s Lesson: The memories may linger, but the PPD can end with help!

"Ppd is slowly going away but I will never forget the horrible thoughts that were once in my head. I desperately wanted this wrap and then I read your last article. Babywearing helped me through my worst days, but it was those specific wraps, his cuddles, that helped me. No mother should ever suffer so thank you for making it to where others know it's ok to not be ok."

***If you are concerned about your own maternal mental health, please feel free to check out www.postpartumprogress.com to learn more about the sign and symptoms of illness, and the steps you can take to get better.***