Putting myself first postpartum: A CityMom’s story
Editor’s Note: This month, theCityMoms are sharing stories from real mamas about their experiences with depression and anxiety as a part of our postpartum series. It is our hope that by sharing stories like Hannah’s below that we will normalize these conversations and empower moms to seek support.
My entire life, I have had anxiety. Specifically, I have panic disorder. It’s something that I’ve learned to manage, so when I neared the end of my pregnancy with my first, I believed I could handle any mental health changes. I had a counselor. I had a psychiatrist if needed. I was prepared.
I was wrong.
Hannah with her first-born son, Jack
My oldest – Jack – was born after a 23-hour labor and an emergency c-section. When we brought him home, he was very sick. He had jaundice, blood sugar issues, and poor weight gain – ironic since he was born at 9 pounds 8 ounces. I loved him, but I didn’t connect with him in the storybook way I’d been led to believe I should. He felt like a stranger, and by feeling that, I assumed something was wrong with me.
Most of the time, when I looked at him, I felt absolute anxiety.
I was afraid to leave the house. I was afraid to let him cry. I was afraid someone would kidnap him. I was afraid I’d accidentally hurt him. I was afraid to breastfeed him in public or change his diaper in a bathroom. I was afraid of everything - and in the months after he was born, I rarely left the house. I will never forget my mom coming over a few times a week and forcing me to walk Jack around the block. I told her I was fine, but she insisted I go outside. It felt silly at the time, but now I think she knew I was not okay.
Jack is now three, and I have the vocabulary for what was happening. I had a perinatal mood disorder, essentially anxiety that took root in pregnancy and blossomed postpartum. I had intrusive thoughts over and over. I’d see images of things like falling down the stairs while holding Jack, or someone abducting or shaking him. I felt like I could never relax and never leave Jack because doing so would put him in “danger.” It bordered on postpartum OCD – another mood disorder that I now know exists, which can involve repetitive intrusive thoughts.
None of those thoughts were rooted in reality. Not even close. They were born of a hormone crash, intense sleep deprivation, and a lack of support and open communication about what I was going through. I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on, because they’d think I was a terrible mom. It took me months to dig myself out, and it wasn’t until my second pregnancy that I would realize how abnormal those feelings were.
Hannah with her second-born son, Calvin
The second time around, I didn’t feel like I was stepping into this vast unknown, because we’d done this before. I knew what I needed. I told my husband I was prioritizing three things postpartum: My sleep, a fed child (whatever that looked like), and my own mental health. After those three things came everyone else’s needs.
When we brought Calvin home, it was different. I knew that I needed sleep more than I needed to breastfeed, so we supplemented it with formula at the start so I could get consecutive hours of sleep. I knew I needed to leave the house even if it was a disaster, and so we took our kids to parks or the zoo even when we all cried the whole way home. I knew that I’d have intrusive thoughts - with Calvin, an intense fear that someone would drop him - and I knew to cope with them by acknowledging these thoughts, reframing them, and moving on.
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My entire postpartum, I kept thinking, “Is this what it’s supposed to be like?” Because I was happy. Sure, I was stressed and tired, but I felt so grateful to have him after a complicated pregnancy, and I had that second-time mom knowledge that even on the worst nights, it was all a phase and I’d never have to do it again.
So much in postpartum is chalked up as “normal.” It’s easy to write off anxiety or depression as “mood swings” or “tiredness.” But they should not be.
When I think about pulling myself out of that pit after Jack’s birth, I know I was lucky that it didn’t get worse. I was lucky that I had a supportive husband and family. I was lucky that I’d had so many years of therapy beforehand so I could keep it at bay. The thing is, luck shouldn’t be a part of it. Mental health care during and after pregnancy is as important as physical health care, if not more so.
If you have anxious or depressed thoughts postpartum, you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I’ve lived it. You’re not alone and you don’t have to continue to cope on your own. Advocate for yourself with your doctors and your support network, and demand the resources you need until you feel better. Do it for your family, but most importantly, do it for yourself.
