{Guest Post} My PPD Story: Deb

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My PPD experience seemed to begin during my last pregnancy, even though I did not realize it at the time.
I was dealing with health issues such as elevated blood pressure & gestational diabetes which required a strict diet.  I also had a test done called a "triple screen" that showed an elevated risk that my baby could have Downs Syndrome.

All of these things combined caused lots of stress. I had an amniocentesis to rule out the Downs, but then needed to be induced 1 month early because my blood pressure was so high. I was experiencing problems sleeping, but also some intense anxiety. At first, I didn't realize how bad the anxiety was getting or that it really wasn't normal.

Once my healthy little baby girl was born, everything seemed okay for a week or so, but then the anxiety kicked in full tilt. My blood pressure also didn't settle down and I had to go back on medication for that. I felt nervous all of the time and had a "shell-shocked" feeling that I couldn't shake. I had strange symptoms, too, like tingling & cold hands/feet & profuse sweating. I felt like my body's "fight or flight" instincts were kicked into overdrive.

Shortly after that, the depression set it. I had all of the typical symptoms: sadness, lack of energy, sleeplessness, inability to make decisions, feeling "foggy" all of the time, excessive worrying and many bouts of crying. It was truthfully a very scary time for myself and my family.

I was given a book by one of the Nurse Educators from the hospital I work at entitled: "This Isn't What I Expected: Overcoming Postpartum Depression". I read it cover to cover and that is what completely convinced me that I indeed had a significant case of PPD. I made doctor and therapist appointments and started to take an antidepressant, but continued to struggle with my symptoms for months. My symptoms were often most intense in the morning & some days were worse than others, too.

I remember many days just trying to get through one hour at a time. I hated being alone at home and would watch the clock constantly, waiting for afternoon when my husband would get home from work. Accomplishing even small tasks, like folding a load of laundry or cooking supper seemed completely overwhelming to me.

I tried lots of treatments during that first year of my Daughter's life: medication, therapy, biofeedback, even a visit to a chiropractor. I know that different things work for different people, but what I felt helped me the most was finding the right antidepressant (the first one I was put on did not help at all), and the support of my husband, family & friends. I literally spent hours on the phone when I wasn't feeling well, talking to friends and family. It was my own form of "talk therapy" and it really worked for me. Usually I'm not extremely social or much of a talker in general, but when I had PPD, I NEEDED to talk.

For anyone out there currently suffering from PPD, I'd like you to know that I was initially very resistant to the idea of taking an antidepressant.  I was breastfeeding and worried that the medication passing through my milk would not be safe for my baby. I was also worried that I would have to take an antidepressant for the rest of my life. My doctors did reassure me that they were prescribing medications that were considered safe with breastfeeding & as my symptoms slowly improved, I was able to wean myself off of the medication by the time my Daughter turned 2.

One other thing I like to share with women suffering from this illness is that the illness will cause you fear that you will never feel like yourself again; that you will have to live with the miserable symptoms of PPD for the rest of your life. These thoughts are symptoms & are not true. You will feel better. You will recover and become yourself again. Tell yourself that over and over, because it will happen. 

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Hi! My name is Deb Waters. I am 47 years old and a wife, proud Mother of 3, Registered Nurse & Lactation Consultant. I had PPD with my last baby (she is now 13 years old). In sharing my story, I hope to give Moms who are struggling with PPD a healthy dose of information, support & hope.

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This post is part of a series of guest posts called My PPD Story that are part of my ministry with (in)courage in leading an (in)courager community group called Broken & Mended: Hope in the Midst of Postpartum Depression.  Several brave moms have graciously offered to share their stories in this space to raise awareness about postpartum depression and help other moms know they are not alone.  If you are struggling with PPD, please check out this website for some amazing resources to get you the help you need, because there is hope and healing is possible.  


 

Guest Post: My PPD Story {Tammy}

I Love Her, I Really Do!

Nobody explains just “how” life will change when a newborn enters into your life. Oh, don’t get me wrong, many will say: “Oh, your life is gonna change now!” Yet nobody really says how it will change. I kept thinking, like how? It couldn’t change that much.

But life does change.

           

Being on fertility meds, I was truly ecstatic once the baby was here. I had a very uneventful pregnancy with no complications or problems. I did everything that my doctor (and all the books!) told me to do. I ate the best I have ever eaten for a nine-month stretch of time up to that point. And, to be honest, have never done that for nine months ever again! I never had morning sickness, but I did have daily headaches during months three through seven. Yet I refused to take any medicines. I wanted to do the best I possibly could for my baby to have a great start. I loved that baby immensely already, though still inside of me.

           

Then she was born. 

(Our daughter, six hours old)

No longer was my sleep the same. I had to awaken and tend to someone else when they wanted tended to. No longer could I just run out the door for anything, it was a planned event. I must confess here, though, that our daughter was such a good baby. She slept through the night beginning at 11 weeks, never had colic, ate well and wasn’t fussy.

Then what was the matter? Why would I break down sometimes in the middle of the afternoon while she lie sleeping so peaceful? Could it have been the feeding every two hours? Or that I could never seem to finish a task I started? Could it be that I no longer controlled my schedule the way “I” wanted to?

I’m not sure if it was any of those things. I do wonder to this day if it was the fact that for being a perfectionist and control freak that I used to be, if it just sent me into a tailspin. I never did get an answer from my doctor, he would say; give it time-your body has been through a lot, or he would pat my knee, smile and tell me this is normal and it will go away.

But it didn’t.

I started to think I was losing my mind. She breast-fed every two hours and I began to start staying home because I wasn’t doing “that” in public! I just felt I couldn’t hold it together. I’m a people person and I was becoming confined to my home. I had no sisters or sisters-in-law to go seek wisdom from. I had some friends that had babies, but they were pretty much at the same stage I was. Add to that, I didn’t want anyone to know that I felt like I was losing my mind. I would see other women with their babies out and about and looking so gleeful. All the while I felt like a fake walking around smiling while my insides were screaming out – HELP ME, I don’t think I like this little thing!

I finally decided to visit the Mom’s Club at the big church we had been visiting. My thoughts were if I accidentally slip and say something and the ladies think I’m a lunatic, this church is so big, they would never see me again.

But God had other plans.

That very first Wednesday morning I visited Mom’s Club, wouldn’t you know that God knew exactly what I needed. (Isn’t He just amazing!) At this meeting, I not only found others with older children that had walked through (and survived) this path, but I found others who admittedly were having some of the same struggles I was. When I admitted that sometimes I felt like I didn’t even love this long awaited arrival, several shook their heads in agreement and shared with me that this can happen. They encouraged me to not hold it in and to find someone to talk with when I was feeling that way.

I did meet a sweet woman back then and she is still one of my dearest friends. She had a son a couple years older than my daughter so she had more or less blazed the trail a little before me! To this day, I am ever grateful for my friend who would let me tearfully share my feelings of inadequacy or that sometimes I wondered if I loved her--then feel guilty, because how could I not. Once I had unloaded, she would share words of encouragement, ideas to help me for that day and would always pray with me. She never judged me for what I said and she always took time for me. Most importantly she always loved me for who I was, not what I thought the world expected of me.

If I could encourage you as you go through this season of your life, please do not hold it in or do this alone. Whether you find a trusted mentor or seek professional help, do not let this go on for too long. You matter. Your health matters. Some people never have issues with post-partum depression, but some of us do. That doesn’t make us bad moms. It especially doesn’t make us a bad person if we seek help through this time. You want the best for your baby and your family, why would you not want the best for you, too!

Just to set the record straight, I really did love her. And I still do!

  

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You can find Tammy seeing humor and laughter in every aspect of life and then telling all about it on her blog: http://tickledpinktammy.com.  Tammy’s rough childhood as a lonely, only-child who received much criticism from family is the driving force of her passion to always encourage others and make them smile.  She is a Christian who resides in Ohio with her husband of 31+ years, Larry.  They have a grown daughter, Kristen.   You can also connect with Tammy on her Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/tammy.karasek), twitter @tickledpinktam or e-mail: tickledpinktammy@gmail.com

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This post is part of a series of guest posts called My PPD Story that are part of my ministry with (in)courage in leading an (in)courager community group called Broken & Mended: Hope in the Midst of Postpartum Depression.  Several brave moms have graciously offered to share their stories in this space to raise awareness about postpartum depression and help other moms know they are not alone.  If you are struggling with PPD, please check out this website for some amazing resources to get you the help you need, because there is hope and healing is possible. 

 

Guest Post: My PPD Story {Kayla}

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No one told me.

There were a lot of things that no one told me when I got married and wanted to have a baby. I'm not sure if they all figured since I had an early childhood degree that I knew it all, or if they just wanted me to figure it out myself but I was surprised at what I didn't know.

No one told me that pregnancy would wreak havoc on my body. Not just in the physical, you'll get fat, type of way (because I knew that!) but I had morning sickness that lasted all day. I also had a super sleuth of a nose and all sorts of smells sent me sprinting to the bathroom.

No one told me that birth wouldn't go as planned. I had the best birthing plan ever in my mind and nothing went the way it was written out. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with anyone's birthing plan but I am a person who likes to go by what is planned and my labor and delivery did NOT go that way.

No one told me how awful you would feel after you gave birth. I didn't want to move, didn't want to go to the bathroom and couldn't do much of anything by myself. Sadly, my husband's first experiences with a newborn were with our own and he was terrified - leaving me to do the teaching while I felt awful.

No one told me how much pain you'd be in due to nursing.

All these things compounded with the disappointment of not being able to nurse my son, having to purchase formula, going back to a job I didn't really like, and a boss that wasn't very accommodating caused me to feel a crushing fear.

I was terrified that daycare wasn't taking care of my baby. I was freaking out daily that he wasn't getting fed enough, that they weren't giving him his reflux medication, that they were ignoring his cries, and that generally they were abusing him. I had no reason to fear these things and when I would stop and go through my lack of reasons I could talk myself out of the major panic attacks that I was having but if I didn't stop and slowly think things through I had some awful panic attacks and some horrible dread every morning.

I called my mom one day and was freaking out about Lord-Knows-What had happened at daycare and she frankly said to me "I think you have post partum depression - you need to talk to someone!" You know what I did? Hung up on her in tears. No one had ever said that to me... I couldn't have PPD... I was strong, I knew kids, I wasn't that crazy lady who tried to kill her baby... I didn't have PPD!

I immediately called my doctor and when asked what was up I told her my mother thought I had PPD but I wasn't sure. After going through a myriad of questions we determined that I did have PPD and was put on a low dose of anti-depressant.

I was mortified. I hid my prescription from anyone and everyone. No one except my mother and my husband knew I was taking anything for a few months until one day at work my boss (who happened to be the daycare director where my son went) made a comment about how happy I seemed lately and asked me what had changed. I took a deep breath and told her everything! It felt so great to get it all off my chest and I was so relieved that the fix for my PPD was something so tiny.

I agreed to write this post because I believe that PPD has too much of an awful stigma to it; the only stories you hear about it are the ones about the women who hurt their children, no one ever tells about the good that can come of it.

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Kayla is a college classmate of mine who is a working mom of two beautiful boys, married to her husband of over six years. I'm so grateful she has courageously shared her story here to let other moms know it is okay to ask for help and to help tear down the awful stigma that the media continues to give PPD.

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This post is part of a series of guest posts called My PPD Story that are part of my ministry with (in)courage in leading an (in)courager community group called Broken & Mended: Hope in the Midst of Postpartum Depression.  Several brave moms have graciously offered to share their stories in this space to raise awareness about postpartum depression and help other moms know they are not alone.  If you are struggling with PPD, please check out this website for some amazing resources to get you the help you need, because there is hope and healing is possible.