If you're a parent, you're already laughing and nodding in agreement. If you're not, and are planning to be, you may want to stop reading now. Otherwise, read on my brave, naïve friend.
Remember those blissful days of the hot steaming shower rhythmically massaging your back and scalp? You would stand in that shower until the hot water began to run cold. Or was it just me??
Yeah, I didn't think so.
Remember before children getting to go out with friends at night or going to see a movie and to dinner, oh a whim? Not having to schedule things out a month in advance? No worries, it's pretty vague for me too.
I remember thinking when I got pregnant, "Oh! This isn't going to be so bad, I mean, sure I'll have to plan things out, but I'll still do all the things I'm doing now." How I'd like to go back in time and smack that girl across the face and tell her to wake up!
Granted, *almost* five years later it's not so terrible now. But up until this point? Oiy.
In the early days the husband started to do the grocery shopping. (Which is something that has continued!) Why? Because I stayed up all night with our colicky, acid refluxed, wailing monster that couldn't poop. Who continued to cry and vomit all day long, and honestly, some days I was lucky if I showered. (Or showered once every 3 days, if we're being completely honest...) My capris didn't fit and my feet had grown a size as well and leaving the house wasn't something that I wanted to do.
I developed a Casper-esque tan. (Or lack there of...) I had a bad case of what the doctors deemed the 'baby blues'....but getting ahead of myself here...
While I was pregnant, I remember in the birthing classes them telling you to make a 'birth plan', I laughed. My plan? Get the baby out the safest way possible, oh and don't you dare put that slimy, nasty, messy, thing on my stomach as soon as it comes out of my lady bits. That's disgusting. Luckily, I needn't worry because after nearly 32 hours of labor, I ended up in a C-section because unbeknownst to the doctors my 9lb 7oz baby boy was face up and stuck. Stellar. So, in the exhausted state I was in, they wheeled me to the operating room and 'delivered' my bundle of joy. I remember glancing across the room while they cleaned him up, they brought him over to me, approx. 2 inches from my face, um, I'm not blind people. Back it up. Then, that was it, they whisked him away, I looked at my husband and in my freshly discovered (yup, it happens this quick) 'mom tone', "do NOT let him out of your sight!"
After three days of greeting visitors and being catered to we came home. A few days after that my mom left. Because, I "needed to do this on my own." Survival mode doesn't even begin to cover it. I was barely surviving. To those on the outside, everything was peachy. If you lived under my roof, you knew that things were far from peachy and bordering on something out of a M. Night Shyamalan/Hitchcock movie. I was a nightmare to be around.
Baby blues??
My ass.
Post Partum Depression is a topic not many talk about, mostly because as mothers we've taught ourselves to be ashamed of these types of things. Everything is supposed to be happy and perfect and sunshine and rainbows. You have this healthy, adorable, yummy smelling (in a not creepy way at all), creature that depends on you for it's every need. It's supposed to be blissful. You're supposed to glow with motherhood.
Bullshit I say. Complete. and utter. bullshit.
Being a new mom SUCKS. You're sleep deprived. Your husband is not exactly the dad that you envisioned in your head (although in his defense, he's probably trying his best). You don't recognize your body. You have all these feelings because your hormone motherboard has been given a shock straight from the center rings of Hades. I'm here to tell you, it's ok. It's ok to feel these things. 14% of us do. (It may not seem like a big number, but again, these are the women willing to admit that they have feelings of depression. I think that this number is actually a lot higher. But for the sake of this blog, we're going to stick to the statistics.)
What is post partum? Basically, if you have any form of negative thoughts or thoughts harming your baby, your spouse, your nanny, our mailman (just because he's male) and yes, even yourself, it's that. Among MANY other things. (The Mayo Clinic does a good job at describing the symptoms, you can see those here.) I'm not a doctor, or a scientist, or anything of the sort, so I won't go into all this...but I encourage you to check out the link and educate yourself. Also, have those living with you educate themselves, because you may not recognize how far down the rabbit hole you've gone.
The hard part is admitting it, and the even harder part? DOING something about it. I remember going to my OBGYN (whom happens to be male and at that point I loathed everything with a penis above the age of 3 months) for my 6 week post check-up. I said to him, because I'm a to the point kind of person, "I think I may need some drugs." He turned and looked at me like I had 3 heads. "For what exactly? Are you still having pain?" Um, you just basically severed me in half, what do you think, duh. But that wasn't what I was after, the pain made me still feel like I was human. "A bit, but not drugs for that, I think I might have post partum depression." Now, admitting that is CRAZY (no pun intended) hard. I can not even tell you. "What makes you think that?" Are you effing kidding me? You think I haven't read about it? "Um...Sometimes I think about slitting my wrists in the shower, but don't because I'm never sure when my husband will be home and I don't want my son to go uncared for. I also sometimes sit in a pile of freshly vomited baby formula and cry right along with him because I feel like I'm a failure as a mother because I simply can't make him stop crying. He cries all the time. How did I not know that babies cry that much? Should they cry that much? I can't believe he's growing with how much he pukes all over everything..." After I verbally vomit all this (and much much more) on him, he looks at me. "Have you talked to his pediatrician about his vomiting?" At this point I kind of want to kick him. For real. Instead, I ignore his question. "Sometimes I get so upset I can't even breathe." .... .... ... "Well, it sounds like you're having some anxiety along with a bit of depression. So we will certainly give you something to help take the edge off. But I think you should talk to his pediatrician about his vomiting."
A BIT OF DEPRESSION?!??!?! I just told him I thought about slitting my wrists and the only reason I didn't was because I was worried about my puking, vomiting, crying bundle of joy wasn't going to be cared for.
"At least you're worried about that."
That appointment will always be with me. It was awkward, uncomfortable, infuriating and embarrassing. And it shouldn't have been. It happens. Remember? Motherboard, shocked? It's NOT your fault. You did NOTHING wrong, it doesn't make you less of a person, a horrible mother, none of these things.
This is something that should ALWAYS be covered in follow up appointments, your doctor (in my opinion anyway) should ASK you how you're feeling. Not just physically. In my OBGYN's defense, I'm a pretty hard to read person, and even those closest to me are probably reading this post (even though I've said quite a few times in conversations that I was, and I quote, 'batshit crazy' after I had my son) and are a bit surprised by it.
This is something that we should feel comfortable talking about, if not with each other, at the very least with those closest to us, and more importantly with our doctors. Let's stop making it so taboo!
If you need help, get it. Period. Do not feel like you've failed if you need medication to get yourself there. It's ok. I promise. Even if you're someone who hates taking pills of any sort, (remember that being severed in half? I left the hospital on over the counter Tylenol. Yeah. Bad ass or dumb ass? Not sure at this point.) sometimes we need that extra help. And that's ok. It's perfectly normal, and no one is judging you for it. And if they are? Screw 'em. Seriously. Then, tell me where they live so I can go egg their house for being an asshole.
Eventually, it does get better, your body goes back to (somewhat) normal (it's a work in progress), your hatred of things of male origin subside, your baby starts to sleep through the night and your bundle of joy becomes just that. Absolute joy. Just wait for the first smile, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.
Your life begins to get easier. You don't have to lug 3 bags of baby gear with you for a walk around the block. (OH SHUT UP, you KNOW you did it too... :) ) Your friends start to have babies too, then you get to have play dates, and eventually you stop having to follow your child as they climb on the jungle gym at the park. You get to sit with your friends and drink coffee and talk, just like the old days.
The steaming hot showers?? I'm still waiting for the return of those. In the mean time, I've perfected mine to 5 minutes. Shaving and all. It's my son's favorite part of the day, it's when he gets to watch his favorite 1/2 hour show. (About the only time the television is on at our house.)
If you, or someone you love is possibly suffering from PPD, please talk to your doctors, or call: 1-800-PPD-MOMS
No comments:
Post a Comment