Crazy is no joke

"I felt incapable of mothering my baby. I felt my life was over, that I was losing my mind, and would end up dead or institutionalized." -Amelia, 34, Teacher, California USA

"Why do mothers have to pretend that their mental health is not going to be effected by massive rapid change (following childbirth) combined with prolonged sleep deprivation? Why does PPD have a certain shame to it...when it is, in fact, the most logical manifestation on the face of the earth? As a friend of mine put it, "Labor is a set of contractions…and then a mother is born." -Ava, 32, At Home Mom, New South Wales Australia

"If you have PPD, don't blame yourself for how you feel. Don't ever underestimate the magnitude of the challenge you're experiencing. Applaud yourself for going through it and be proud of your willingness to face up to the struggle. You'll grow and develop from it. Motherhood is a true crucible. You are surviving the heat that melts you and the hammering that bends you into shapes unimaginable. You will never find final form, but you will discover the enduring strength of steel, the breath-taking strength of your own courage and abilities…and the inspiring strength of you." -Shelby, 32, Librarian, Michigan USA

June 2012
I have 3 kids.  3 beautiful little miracles that I wouldn't trade for anything.  So then why, at this time in my life, a time that society tells you the ways in which you SHOULD be feeling, why do I feel this way?  Panic, anxiety, sadness, lonesome, fear, scared, dread, numb.  These words describe how I'm feeling 3 weeks after having Max, my 3rd child.  
In my experience, moms don't talk about this...because it's ugly....and shameful.  We feel ashamed, embarrassed, guilty.  We don't want people to think we are bad mothers or bad people.  We don't want people to really know what we're feeling, the depths and horror of our raw emotions. The truth is I think people should know, need to know, because left untreated, post partum depression can destroy lives.  I've decided that I'm going to talk about it. I'm going to write about what I'm feeling and experiencing, no matter how scary, vulnerable, or judged I feel. Writing has always been therapeutic for me, so I figured that maybe writing how I'm feeling and the experience that I'm going through can maybe not only help me through this, but also other moms that might have or are going through the same thing.
I experienced this some with my first child Grace.  After 24 hours of labor where pretty much everything that could go wrong, did go wrong, I ended up with a c-section.  After an epidural that went horribly wrong, I had a period of a time where I could barely breathe and couldn't swallow at all.  This was by far the scariest moment of my life.  My labor stopped after that, and fear from the doctors that the same thing would happen with another epidural, I was left to labor hours and hours after that, virtually pain medication free.  I'm not telling you this for pity, or attention.  I'm writing this because I've realized that this was one experience that aided in my PPD (Post partum depression).  One reason that makes sense as to why I would wake up in the hospital with panic attacks that left me feeling that I couldn't breathe.  I'm writing this because it's helping me heal from an experience that happened 6 years ago, and in turn might help me heal from it this time around.  
I remember times where I would be standing at the sink doing the dishes, and out of the blue I would just start to cry, and my breathing would start to shallow, and panic would paralyze me..and I didn't know why.
I felt a certain disconnect with Grace. I knew I loved her, but I didn't feel like I thought I would feel.  When I heard her cry in the night I didn't want to get up, I didn't want to take care of her.  The last straw was when my c-section scar got infected.  I had to go in and have the part of the scar that was infected re-opened and packed with this long gauze like stuff.  That was it.  I lost it.  I told the doctor what I was feeling, that I think I needed help.  I was put on an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant.  Yes, Tom Cruise....I take those medications, medications which I attribute to my healing.  Call me weak, I don't care.
To make a long story short, I got better.  Slowly.  I remember one night that my mom and sister were at our house, and I was finally able to join in on our family ritual dance party.  My mom said that was when she knew I was getting better.  I could start to do the things that I used to do, and they started filling me with joy again.  i wasn't a zombie anymore, wasn't emotionless.

Fast forward to my third baby Max.  I had him on June 7th, 2012.  My scheduled c-section went great, without a hitch.  In fact the next week after went great as well.  My mother in law took Grace and Gabe, my two older kids for a week so that David and I could have some time with Max by ourselves.  It went pretty well.  He slept all the time, and David and I found ourselves repeatedly watching infomercials on t.v, twiddling our thumbs and looking at each other with kind of vacant nods.  We didn't know what to do with ourselves!  I honestly thought I was in the clear, that this time would continue to go great and smooth.  About the 4th or 5th day after being home I started feeling a little off.  It happened mainly at night, and I remember the first mini panic attack (I say mini, because much bigger ones were to follow).  My brother's girlfriend was here, helping out, keeping me company and helping around the house.  We were watching tv and I suddenly felt the panic coming over me....my breath getting shallow, tears coming to my eyes.  I looked at her and told her what was happening, and I'll never forget how she handled it.  She didn't stare at me like I was a crazy person, didn't judge, didn't get flustered, didn't even bat an eye really.  She simply got up, looked at me and said in such a calm voice, "Ok, what do we need to do, do you want to watch a movie?  What can we do to make you feel better?"  She knew I needed a distraction, and it helped.  I will forever be grateful for how she handled that situation. That  panic attack didn't last very long, but they started coming more periodically.  Everything felt different this time around.  Nothing felt right.  I was not only overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxiety ridden, but I was terrified, defeated, and hopeless.  I remember thinking "I can't do this....I just can't."  My experience was worse with Max.  I don't know why, but everything was different with Max.  Nothing felt right.  I was paralyzed with anxiety.  Paralyzed with panic and fear.  Paralyzed with every horrible emotional possible.  I felt like I honestly 100% couldn't do it, couldn't raise three kids.  I remember thinking one night, my worst night, that I should honestly be taken to a hospital, be put in a psych ward.   My mom was here, and I had this panic attack that lasted forever.  I remember pacing around the house, trying to catch my breath, trying to calm down....and I couldn't......all the while telling my mom that I couldn't do this.  I can't do this.  I can't do this.  I wanted to run away from it all...run away and never look back.  No mom should ever have to feel like that.  The feeling I had was something I don't wish upon my worst enemy.  I thought I was going to go crazy....the kind of crazy you curl up and die from.  I didn't want to take care of my son.  I resented him for being born...for how I was feeling. He wasn't supposed to come....not for a few years.  So I resented the fact that he came when we weren't ready....messed everything up.  My husband is a full time grad student....always busy.....money is super tight....our house is too small...how are we going to make this work?  

Fast forward to October 10th, 2012.  I wrote the first part of the blog in the depths of my sickness.  I couldn't finish the blog because it was too painful, too much.  So much I couldn't say...so much I wanted to say.  It was all too much.  Luckily, with all the experience I've had, I knew the warning signs...knew when I needed help...knew when to surrender.  I went back to my doctor 4 times in the first month.  They were so helpful, so understanding, so worried.  I'm lucky to have the support I had.  Once again, I started to feel better.  It took longer this time, but eventually I started feeling myself level out.
I ache for all those mothers out there who go through the same thing.  It's the hardest thing i've ever done. The hardest thing I've ever had to go through.  And I'm such a better mom, wife and person because of it.
Max is now 4 months, and the happiest baby I've ever seen.  His smile can light up a room and melt my heart over and over.  I no longer feel any of the resentment I felt in the beginning.  He is one of the best things to happen to me in the last year.
So let's start talking about these things, moms.  Because for the longest time, I felt completely alone...like i was the only person in the universe that was experiencing this.  But what I found out was that some of my best friends had gone through the same thing.
Women need to know that this can happen....that these feelings/experiences are sometimes just part of who we are.  We aren't weak, we aren't crazy (well, maybe me....) we shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed or any of those emotions.
I am a better person because of the things i've gone through.  And it feels good to write it all down.  Call me crazy, you're probably right.  Call me weak, you're a fool.  Call me a bad mother, shame on you.
I am proud of who I am, the experiences I've gone through, and the outcomes that have arisen.  My circumstances don't define who I am.  They only make me stronger.