Monika: My Journey with Birth and Severe Postpartum Depression.

Monika:My Journey with Birth and Severe Postpartum Depression.

We got pregnant the first try and I was absolutely thrilled about becoming a family of three.  Little did I know how much things would change and in more ways than one.

I went into labor at 10 pm Sunday, March 15, 2009, although I didn’t know that’s what it was.  I went to a doctor’s appointment Monday, March 16, and I get the news that yay, we are going to have our baby.  I believe that our appointment was about 11:30 or so that morning and I got checked into my room.  I labored all that day with and finally made it to about 4cm.  I didn’t want to have pit, but my doctor said that if I didn’t make progress by 6:00 am I was going to have pit. I prayed and prayed for progress, but no such luck.  I felt pretty fortunate that because I was admitted with broken waters, that my doctor said no hands in the hoo ha until I ask to be checked, so as to reduce infection.  I could have hugged him for that.  Sure enough at 5:45, after asking to be checked, and I had not made any progress, I get pit and THEN the contractions start.  And WOW, did they hurt.  I had my two doulas and they were my voice!  We compromised and I was able to walk the halls for 30 minutes and then be hooked up to the monitors.  I had severe back labor and was not able to labor on my hands and knees like I had wanted.

My daughter was born on March 17, 2009 at 2:25 pm and she was 7 pounds 12 ounces of perfection.  I began to feel that something wasn’t right that night.  I didn’t want her in my room with me. I wanted her in the nursery.  I guess, though to ease my mind, I put a picture of me and my hubby on her bed in the nursery.  I remember that night after a feeding, that I went to my room and felt so very alone.  I didn’t feel the joy that so many new mothers feel.  I trembled at the thought of going home.  I was breastfeeding, but I dreaded it.  I resented this child, this thing that interrupted my sleep every two hours.  The breastfeeding didn’t last long.  I wanted so desperately to breastfeed, but how could I have fed someone from my breasts that I, in a sense, hated.

I remember one night in particular that it was raining, and my daughter was crying and I had seen a snapping turtle sitting in the water in the back yard and I wanted to throw her out there so the turtle could eat her, to make her shut up. I wanted the crying to stop! I was so tempted to shake the baby, but I didn’t.  My daughter was about 3 weeks old and I remember driving down the road and just crying because my daughter didn’t deserve an ill mother.  I wanted to drive off the bridge with my daughter strapped in the backseat.  I had all of these thoughts in my head about what the Texas State Police would tell my husband, who was at work; what would my mother- and father-in-law think to hear that her daughter-in-law killed herself and her child.  They have no other grandchildren.  They would be heartbroken.  I went for my six week checkup and I just cried it out to my doctor, who I guess was a mental health doctor for me at the time. I just needed someone to cry to and he was there.  Anyway, I asked him for help. I was prescribed something and it took about a week at least for me to start to feel different.  I began to mend and I read a book, Dr. Sears’ The Baby Book,  that changed how I looked at my child.  There was a phrase that said “when you hear your baby crying, don’t think of it as crying, think of it as your baby not bearing to be away from you and needing your warmth.   I began to mend and instead of dreading her cries, I looked at them as her only way to communicate her need for me.  Looking back, I know I could have breastfed! But hindsight is 20/20.  My husband took me to Houston for a couple weekends and I missed her. That was a huge turning point.  I began to love, really love my child. I also became an attached mommy.  The funny thing is that after I was on my medication for about 7 months, I was cleaning out in my kitchen and I found my medication tucked away in a drawer and I had forgotten about it.  I know this was really supposed to be a birth story.  It was more like an after birth story!

Anne-Marie’s Postpartum (Postnatal) Depression Story

This should be the happiest time in my life but why do i feel like this ???????????

Let’s start at the beginning. I wanted a baby so much with my partner. It was the one thing I wanted to do. Yes I was only 18, but all I wanted to complete my happiness was a precious baby to hold in my arms to make this perfect time complete.

We started trying and after 12 months there were still no 2 lines on that test, so I went to see a doctor. They told me there was a problem with my tubes and I would have a 50% chance of getting pregnant. Oh great, is the only thing that ran through my head. I was so upset by this I thought it was never going to happen. Another 12 months went by and nothing. By this point, I started to lose hope. It was starting to take a toll on our relationship as I was so upset about everything. We were arguing over nothing. After 4 months of this, we decided we needed a break. We stayed apart for 2 weeks and decided we would start over again and see how things went. Guess what, 3 weeks later I was due on and nothing happened. I just blamed it on how I was feeling, but then 2 weeks later I did a test and those 2 lines were there. I was ecstatic! It was the best day of my life. For the next 8 months I was on cloud 9. Yes, morning sickness drove me crazy, but i was pregnant. I was going to have a baby.

At 20 weeks we were informed we were having a baby boy. My partner was over the moon with that. I wasn’t bothered, as a baby’s a baby and as long as it was healthy, I didn’t care.

The next 20 weeks went by so quickly and my due date arrived. I had been in slow labour for 2 weeks before my due date, but this time something was different. I went into hospital at 12 noon on the 14th February 2008 (the perfect Valentine’s day gift hahahaha), and I was 4cm dilated. Come 4pm, I was still only 4cm dilated and was in so much pain, but I refused any other pain relief. At 7pm still no progress, I felt it was never going to end. I was stuck at 4cm. Suddenly, the pain got intense and I felt like I needed to wee, but nope, my back waters broke.

By 8.15pm I was ready to push. This was to my disbelief. I couldn’t believe I’d dilated so much in so short time. I screamed so much I burst a few blood vessels in my throat. Woops. By 8.49pm, I was holding my precious little boy in my arms with a big smile on my face. Even with a 2nd degree tear I was still smiling.
Later on I was allowed to go home. I couldn’t believe I actually had a baby of my own. We arrived home and reality hit me. I loved my son, but I couldn’t bear to hold him. As the days went by, I was losing myself. I was forgetting who I am. I couldn’t leave the house and all I wanted to do was stay in bed. I didn’t want to see anyone.

The midwife came to visit and we found I had a womb infection. I just put how I felt down to that and nothing else.

A few days later I was feeling very emotional and didn’t know what to do. Apparently it was the baby blues, so I just carried on, regardless.

After 2 weeks of getting worse and worse, the doctor decided I had postnatal depression. I was so upset. Why on earth did I feel like this? I had my precious baby boy and I loved him with all my heart, so why oh why did i feel like this? I wanted nothing more than to be "normal" again but I had forgotten what normal was. When I left the house, sheer panic would come over me; I was so scared. If I was around people I didn’t know, I was extremely anxious and just couldn’t cope. I would cry all the time over nothing and worse, I felt unloved, unwanted, unappreciated. I just didn’t want to live anymore. I even told my partner that him and my son would be better off without me. But madly, the one thing that stopped me taking my life was my son. I kept thinking of my son. I started taking some tablets and going to a PND group and I realized I wasn’t mad and I wasn’t alone like I thought I was. There were other women out there feeling similar to me.

The tablets weren’t working very well, so we tried some more. I started getting worse. WHY WAS I GETTING WORSE??????????? I thought the tablets were meant to be helping. It got to the point I wouldn’t get dressed. I wouldn’t leave the house at all. I wouldn’t even answer the door or the phone. I couldn’t eat but I knew I had to do something to keep me going for my little boy.

Went back to the doctors and we finally found a tablet that was helping me. It was a very slow battle but after 2 years, I was starting to go out again and was starting to see people again. Fantastic, I was on the mend. Life was getting back to "normal" then...

Oh dear. Two more lines. We were expecting our second child and after 3 weeks of knowing, I started to bleed. Sadly, we lost that baby. Even though I had only known a few weeks, it hit me like a rock and set me back a few steps.

In August 2009, guess what? Two more lines. The worry that went through me was horrible. I was so so scared. Then the 12 week scan and everything was fine. I could relax a little more. Twenty-two weeks came and we found we were having another boy. As 32 weeks approached, I started to feel worried about everything and crying. I couldn’t cope with all this so went to see the doctor. I was starting with the postnatal depression whilst being pregnant. I didn’t want to feel like I did last time. On the 15th April 2010, my beautiful little boy was born.

The only difference in how I was feeling was I just wanted him to be with me. He had to be in my sight at all times. The anxiety came back, the panicking came back. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I was drained. And still to this day I can’t leave the house much, but I’m getting there. It’s taking baby steps I need to do and I’ll get there. I’m just so so happy I have 2 beautiful children that make me smile. I just wish I didn’t feel like this.

Sorry for going on with myself and writing an essay but there just aren’t enough people out there willing to admit they have or have had postnatal depression. It IS an illness. You’re not going mad, but it does make you think why do I feel like this when this precious child is what I’ve always wanted.