I've been aware of my struggle with depression since college, but looking back I see how it was affecting me even when I was as young as ten.
In college I would have these spaces of time where the thought of getting in the shower and slitting my wrists sounded comforting compared to living with the heaviness of my mental feelings.
I didn't find real help until I was in my 20's and reached out for a third time, and thankfully was sent to a practice where, for the first time, I was given medication and true mental health counseling.
Then, we had a baby, another baby, and one more baby.
After our first baby I was never sure where his fussiness started and my mania began. I felt they were interlinked, it certainly made it harder on everyone that he never stopped crying, however I used to stare at him and have these longings to walk away and never come back. I dreamed and hallucinated some fairly harsh things, and frantically called my dad, a friends husband I'd only met once, and my husband in complete hysterical tears hoping they would rescue me, hoping they would take this baby away all the while being terrified they would take the baby away.
It was 6 months before I had any feelings for my first baby, and I still have these blank spaces with no memories from that time.
With our second baby I went in feeling I knew myself, I had back up plan after back up plan, medications lined up, sitters to help, and the transition was much smoother. So much so that I walked into my third pregnancy without any reservations. I'd never considered prenatal depression, I'd only ever worried about the end game. As stressors began to build that year found us putting our oldest in therapy with concerns broached about Aspergers, my mother in law was suddenly diagnosed with cancer putting my husband in an inaccessible tailspin, then I attended a traumatic delivery and suddenly became convinced there was no way this baby was going to safely make it through. I went off all my medication, terrified it would cause a cardiac defect in the baby.
It was so isolating, I was unable to communicate with my husband and didn't want to add to his already heavy emotional load.
I am still so grateful for my cousins who came and decorated my nursery and sat with me through Sean traveling back and forth to Canada when I couldn't go. I was too far along to fly and attend my mother in laws funeral, and she never had the chance to meet my sweet daughter, something that to this day still makes me so sad. I remember the disbelief and relief when they put Elsie on my chest, and all I could say to my obstetrician was, I didn't think she would be alive as I cried tears or relief. The gravity of that emotion was my first clue that I was not ok. Two weeks in I knew for sure this old intense heaviness was not getting better only worse, as I avoided showering, and finally called my obstatricians nurse crying hysterically.
I am lucky that all along the way there were people reaching out. I was screened at Hanks first pediatrician appointment, at my postpartum appointments, and when I asked for help from my practitioners I received it. With Archie and Elsie my obstetrician looked into different therapies and alternatives for me to help with the process. I was lucky, but a lot of women are not.
Until we watched this documentary together, Sean and I never really discussed these time periods in our marriage and parenting journey. We moved on, we had babies, we raise them and walk past those times of struggle. We are lucky.
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