No walk in the park

Postpartum depression.

It's real.

It exists.

My journey in motherhood the fourth time around has not been easy. I have struggled, sometimes daily. I haven't felt like myself in a while. I have been angry and sad. I have felt regret and have struggled to bond with my baby. I have felt less then a good mom at times, because my other children I feel have been neglected in the way that I haven't been able to spend time with them. I feel like I am trapped on the couch for long periods of time nursing Miles.

I guess this spiral started in the hospital. I wanted to badly to have a VBAC, my previous child was an emergency c section and I didn't want to go through that again. I ended up at the hospital in labor and was so happy and so positive I felt like I was going to get my VBAC. Until they realized that baby was face presenting, and my hopes were quickly dashed. The OB said it was too risky and it would in fact be another c section for me. I cried. Tears streamed down my face and I couldn't stop them. I knew the recovery and the limitations that were going to be put on me. I didn't want it. But I didn't have a choice.

I walked into the OR and sat on the table. Waited for them to give me the spinal all the while having to endure excruciating contractions. They laid me down and started the surgery. Everything went according to plan and Miles came into the world at 6:13pm. But I didn't hear Anything. And like any new Mother would do anxiety started to creep in and I kept saying I don't hear him, is he OK? My husband just said they are working on him he is ok. What I didn't exactly know at the time was that his cord was wrapped around his neck several times and they had to give him extra oxygen because he had swallowed a lot of the meconium before being born. And after what felt like hours they finally brought him over for me to see.

After I was done in recovery I was brought over to the postpartum side. And here is where my struggles really began. The pain set in and I couldn't stop throwing up. My nurse the first night was amazing as I kept apologizing to her every time she had to come in and clean me up from throwing up, with one time having to change all the bedding. She was always so nice and smiled and said "don't worry about it these things happen, you just had major surgery."

You just had major surgery.

I always forget that part. You are literally cut open and a baby is brought through that incision site. They go through multiple layers in your body, including muscle and trust me you use you stomach muscles for way more then you think you do.

Fast forward to Tuesday. I should be able to walk to the bathroom and walk the hallway a little bit, but I can't. I can't even get out of bed. I tried to move in bed and got stuck. A nurse came into my room and saw me in this awkward position in bed and asked if I was OK, and I replied in tears to her that I was stuck and couldn't move. After that I had a nurse come in and talk to me, I assume she was the boss. She asked me several questions and then asked me if the nurse was meeting my needs. And like usual I wanted to answer yes because I didn't want to be "that person", but this was my health my recovery and no they were not meeting my needs. My pain was being mismanaged.

After that conversation, everything felt like it was starting to fall into place. By the afternoon I felt way better and was even able to get up and get a shower. I felt like a new person. Like I was finally able to get a hold on everything and that I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

But that light it quickly disappeared.

We finally arrived home on the Wednesday, Miles was born on Sunday evening. And I struggled greatly. There were times where I just sat and cried while Miles cried. There were times that I thought to myself, what was I thinking having another child. I didn't feel that instant bond with my baby. I didn't want to touch him at times. I felt like a Mom that was failing, not only my new baby but my other children as well. My two year old couldn't understand why I couldn't pick her up. I was tired all the time. I had no energy for my older kids.

Five weeks in and I was engulfed in a big black dark hole. I didn't feel myself. I was angry way too much. I felt like I was just going through the motions of the day. I wasn't looking forward to much. Christmas this year felt like a big daunting day, and if you know me you know that I am still a child at heart with Christmas. I love this time of year, I love watching my kids open their presents on Christmas morning and love getting together with family. And this year I just felt so meh about everything.

Christmas Eve, after finally getting Miles to sleep after three hours of trying I hear a ping on my phone. My Mom was texting me.

"Are you okay?"  She said.

"yeah just really tired."

"I'm worried about your health, let me know how I can help." She said.

I texted her back with a long answer with basically saying I felt like a burden on people and that I didn't want to burn her out on trying to help me so I don't ask that often. She replied with a thanks for sharing my feelings and that I matter to her and so do my kids.

"Ping" my phone goes off again.

"I don't like seeing you in so much pain." She said.

I cried. A lot.

I finally replied back.

"I don't feel like myself and I haven't for a while."

"I think you have depression." She said.

Postpartum depression can creep up on you. It can set in without you even realizing what is going on until everything starts come crashing down around you. In a house full of people I feel so alone. It's difficult sometimes to vocalize how I feel or what I need at times. I have people around me that want to help, but the feeling of being a burden on people always comes creeping back in.

But I'm trying to get better at it. I'm trying to become more accepting of saying yes when someone wants to help. I went out the other day just me and Nora. It wasn't for long, but I was able to be separated from Miles for a bit and it felt good. Did I miss a feeding with him, yes but he lived with one time being fed with formula. Which I am not against, all my kids have either been all formula fed or at a certain time been switched over to formula. And Nora had so much fun being the only one with Mom. And I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it just being Nora and I doing errands together.

Postpartum depression needs to be talked about more. More Moms need to know other peoples stories, so they don't feel alone. So they don't feel like they are less then a Mother if they do have it. They need to know that it doesn't look the same in each person.

The stigma needs to be removed.

Postpartum depression is real.

It does exist.

Don't ignore it.