Maybe it’s time for help

This isn’t something I have wanted to admit to anyone, let alone to my family. A little while ago I Googled Post Partum Depression and found this article. And I started crying as I read it. Do I have PPD? I suspect, maybe so. I’ve felt this way since she was maybe 6 weeks old.

After Clayton died- well, I was, am, obviously grieving. I don’t know, maybe it’s just grief. Maybe it’s postpartum depression. Maybe it’s both meshed together.

I just keep trying to go forward. Because eventually everything will turn around, right? Eventually I’ll finally be okay, right?

Everything I do- or am trying to do- is to support my baby girl, and give her a good, stable life. I do love her. But, I don’t, and never have, felt that bond with her everyone talks about. I keep waiting for it. And waiting for it.

You don’t feel bonded to your baby. You’re not having that mythical mommy bliss that you see on TV or read about in magazines. Not everyone with postpartum depression feels this way, but many do.

Am I just being selfish? I feel like I’m being selfish. That I need to toughen up.

You feel overwhelmed. Not like “hey, this new mom thing is hard.” More like “I can’t do this and I’m never going to be able to do this.” You feel like you just can’t handle being a mother. In fact, you may be wondering whether you should have become a mother in the first place.

You feel guilty because you believe you should be handling new motherhood better than this. You feel like your baby deserves better. You worry whether your baby can tell that you feel so bad, or that you are crying so much, or that you don’t feel the happiness or connection that you thought you would. You may wonder whether your baby would be better off without you.

Those in the quotes are from the article, and they’re so spot on to how I have felt the last 7 months. The first month, it was hard, and I figured I was adjusting to mommy life. I figured I’d be fine.

About  4-6 weeks in, and I wasn’t getting better. There was still no bond. I couldn’t admit I thought I might have PPD. That’s admitting weakness! I’m strong, I’ve always been strong. I never need help.

Then Clayton died. And left me all alone in parenting. Some days I get so angry at him (although I haven’t lately) for leaving me.

It’ll be five months (where has the time gone?! how have I made it this far?) on the 13th since he died. And outside of accepting he’s gone, I don’t feel any better.

You feel hopeless, like this situation will never ever get better. You feel weak and defective, like a failure.

That about sums it up. I keep thinking if I do this (go to school) or that (get my own place) things will turn around and I’ll finally be okay. But I don’t know if that’s really going to change anything.

I will be calling my doctor Monday and asking for any recommendations on what to do about this, or for a support group. Something. It’s time I set aside my pride and fear of judgment from my family and seek help.

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13 Comments

  1. Glad you are going to see the doctor. I have a cousin who had PPD, and she ended up being clinically depressed for many years. She lost her marriage and custody of her child, except on a limited basis. So please get some help if you need it.

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  2. I’m so sorry. Accepting that you don’t fit into the hallmark card version of new motherhood can be a hard reality to accept and it takes bravery to do so. Be aware that if you begin meds, it may take some adjustments before you find the right one but once you do it’s like a whole new life!
    I personally had to switch from Zoloft to Wellbutrin and absolutely had to force myself into a workout routine. I hope you find what works for you.

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    • I am doing fairly okay with an exercise routine, about 3-4 days a week. Which I thought might help but I’m two months in, and no real change.
      I wasn’t even thinking about meds… Yikes. Guess I’ll see where finding help gets me.
      It is very hard to accept. My mom homeschooled us 9 of us and never had a problem, always happy to stay home. She doesn’t understand wanting a break. Admitting something like this is hard…but to her? It’s unfathomable. It’s something I need to “adjust my attitude” or “get over it”. I love her, and she’s a great mom, I’m not trying to put her down. But this…this is one thing I have no desire to share with her.

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