Sometimes, people can look so happy on the outside but, I know from experience that every day there are people around us who are silently struggling. After Taylor was born, I developed Post Partum depression.
Here's my experience...
Two weeks after Taylor was born, we were trying to settle back into our townhome (we moved from my in-laws back to our home a week after the birth). I noticed I seemed to be losing my cool with Emery every day. One day, in particular, she was getting into boxes that she shouldn't have and I just lost it. I screamed out loud out of fatigue and desperation. I not only scared her, but I scared myself. WHO WAS I? I balled up under my bedroom window filled with guilt and cried. I was so confused as to why I was angry all the time and had zero patience. My sweet little girl crawled up next to me. I wrapped my arms around her and apologized as I held her close. I knew something was wrong but didn't understand what exactly it was.
Being busy with a newborn and trying to settle back in is a whole different level of stress so I figured I was just stressed out from everything that was happening.
At five weeks postpartum, I came in for my checkup. The nurse went through a list of questions as protocol.."baby blues? PPD?" Nope. I'm "good". Or so I thought. I'd never experienced it and really didn't know much about it. I mean, I COULDN"T possibly get depression...right?
The conversation with the nurse bugged me for a few days so I started doing my research. As I started to read through the symptoms and signs, I was in denial. Everyone experiences this at some point, right? Anger, lack of patience, guilt, anxiety, overwhelmed, emptiness, difficulty concentrating, disconnected, helpless. Then, I stopped. My heart sank as I read "thoughts of running away." I had felt so guilty and useless over the weeks that I honestly thought Adam and the girls were better off without me and that I should just run away. I didn't want to believe it.
The black hole of sorrow inside me got bigger and I was so confused. From what I researched, most women get PPD & anxiety with their first baby. I ate better, exercised more and my delivery was far less complicated compared to my first. Yet, It still plagued me.
I slept for a few months in the living room, not wanting my husband to see me cry throughout the night. I told him I was more comfortable with the baby on the couch. I felt alone and although deep down I didn't want to be alone, I pushed him away. I cried every night, sometimes not knowing why. I constantly felt a deep sadness consuming me.
My poor sweet husband. He never criticized me once. He silently picked up the chores, grocery shopped and would just ask me every day, "how can I make you happy?" Not understanding what was happening. For a guy who needs to "fix" problems, I know he struggled not being able to help me. Just seeing his wife struggle without a reason was heartbreaking and confusing.
Again, one night after a fun evening with family, I crawled into bed to nurse the baby and just cried. Adam reached out and asked what was wrong and as always I told him.. "Nothing." He had a look of disappointment and my heart broke, I didn't know what to say in the moment but realized it was time to just share what little I did know.
The next day Adam and I sat down for lunch, just the two of us. I admitted to him that I believed I had PPD. He listened so intently, holding my hand while I sobbed telling him everything I was feeling...I hope I didn't disturb all the people sitting next to us in the sandwich shop haha.
After he listened to me pour my soul out, I felt so much comfort and love. We looked at possible solutions to help me feel better and started by calling the doctor and getting their input. Adam continued on doing the house chores, grocery shopping and taking care of the girls while I tried to help myself with taking care of my health, setting daily goals, exercise, and counseling. I felt a little more light inside me that day.
I remember listening to Elder Holland's(one of the twelve apostles of the LDS church) talks Like a Broken Vessel about depression during an LDS General Conference. After listening, I couldn't fathom what depression was like and I hoped I'd never have to (that didn't turn out so well).
And it's hard to explain (for me anyway) if you haven't experienced it. It's very similar to the experience of Riley, from the movie Inside Out. She has all the emotions hanging out and when something went wrong, her emotion Joy left. Riley's experiences after that became joyless and Riley couldn't experience happiness to the point she felt alone, unloved and ran away.
And Anxiety... Oh boy, the little devil. I feel like I'm drowning. Many times, I'd rush home early from running errands, run inside without saying "hi" to my neighbors, throw on netflix for my girl and run to my bed and close my eyes and try to breathe. It's debilitating. It's annoying. There are so many things I want to do but I can't. I felt simply broken and often thought of my old self like it was a distant memory. I didn't recognize the person I had turned into as a result of this mental illness. Reaching out to my husband was a good first step to healing. But, I continued to struggle.
Shortly after I came to terms with having Post Partum Depression, I tried to keep myself busy. I spent every spare moment building my photography business. It kept me busy doing something I loved and helped me get away from my reality which seemed too painful to face. At the same time, it brought on a whole other set of stresses and anxieties, ones that I could have definitely done without. Nevertheless, I moved forward with it for about six months.
Working all the time wasn't helping as I had hoped it would, and I joined a CrossFit gym. Exercise helps so I thought I'd give it a go. Things seemed to be moving forward again and I thought I was even cured after two weeks of exercise! Then, something else happened that I didn't expect.
I had been feeling a bit sick for weeks. I was working out really hard in the morning and credited that for not feeling well. On the morning of Dec 10th, I attended a photo shoot. Again, not feeling good and couldn't even eat. The shoot was three hours and I had to leave after an hour. I was nauseous and just wanted to lay down. But first, the grocery store. I had a small worry I needed to address.
I got home and greeted Adam and the girls. Emery pulled out all the items in the grocery bag and out fell a pregnancy test. Adam freaked out and I laughed about it. Just so you know, I have PCOS and I haven't ever been able to get pregnant without the help of modern medicine so...
After a few minutes, I sat in the bathroom silent, with Adam jingling the doorknob asking for the results. I slowly opened the door and peeked my head through the crack of the door and with hesitation, nodded up and down with tears when he jokingly asked if I was pregnant. Taylor wasn't even six months and I was pregnant again. My husband laughed out of happiness and believe me, I was shocked and a little scared. News like this couldn't be contained and we told our parents that night.
The next few days we spent planning for a summer baby. We had just bought a house and were packing up so it was a really busy time. However, this sweet moment was short-lived. A week or so before Christmas, I felt something was wrong and called my nurse during a 48 hour period and was reassured everything was fine. But it wasn't, I knew it wasn't and at 2am I drove myself to the ER. It was clear there wouldn't be a summer baby anymore.
I later spent a week lying in bed, holding my girls close to me every chance I could. I remember holding Taylor and reading her a book for the first time since she was born! It was a wake-up call for me. I spent months consumed with avoiding my life as a way to deal with my personal challenges and ended up neglecting the ones who are most important to me.
My girls needed me and I needed them more than ever. I couldn't do it anymore. It was time for me to give up. Time for me to surrender. It was time to just give the Lord everything I had because I couldn't do it alone. My family deserved to come first. My health deserved my attention. You can guess the mommy guilt hit me HARD. So I decided to take a step back from everything and refocus my priorities and face it.
It's true what they say, I would never trade my trial for someone elses. We each have our own challenges in this life. The best we can do is learn to overcome our experiences. I've tried to stop fighting it and instead, have tried to take the lessons it's teaching me. Well, I try most days. Other times I just want to lay in bed and cry because that's all my brain can handle. However, One such time has strengthened my faith in my Savior, Jesus Christ.
I woke up one morning and what seemed like an eternity, stared up at the blank white ceiling as tears rolled down my face. I was feeling emotionally and mentally exhausted from dealing with my PPD for months. As I laid there, those cliche questions ran through my head in a silent conversation with my Heavenly Father, "Why me? What did I do wrong? How could you?" As I laid there feeling broken and alone, my Savior and a scripture came to mind-
Alma 7:12 And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.
In that moment, I felt closer to my Savior than I have ever felt. I felt not even a sliver of the pain that he took upon himself so that he could help me and everyone who had lived and who will live on this earth. He is the only one who TRULY understands our pains because he has already experienced it as part of his infinite Atonement. With that compassion, he can comfort us and we are healed when we come unto him. My heart swelled with gratitude for my Savior and his sacrifice. If there is one thing for me to learn from this trial, It is compassion and learning to rely on my Savior for strength. It was a sweet reminder that I am a child of God and that he is mindful of my trials.
Going through life's trials, we're able to better stand in the Saviors shoes and reach out to others with empathy. These experiences so beautifully connect us to people. I believe that the Lord uses us as tools to answer the prayers of others.
When we have endured the same struggles as those around us, we're able to lift them up and bring hope. There have been times someone has shared their experience with postpartum depression on social media and it has brought me comfort, knowing I am not alone, knowing someone understands the pain and difficulties that otherwise appear invisible to others and knowing that there is always hope. I've learned to be more mindful of others, more kind, and to reach out because you never know what silent trials they may be facing.
For more resources: https://www.lds.org/ensign/2016/02/depression?lang=eng
