Why I Will Never Say "You Must Be So Happy" to a New Mom

I was reading today about an actress who went public with her decision to enter treatment for post-partum depression, and it really struck a chord with me.  I often think about the period after Lewis was born as the darkest time of my life, but I've never really written about it.


I've always struggled with anxiety and panic attacks.   For years, I tried mental exercises with varying degrees of success, but the underlying anxiety was always there.  In graduate school, I finally decided to seek professional help and I started taking Prozac.  Prozac helped temper the anxiety, and I felt like I could finally live a "normal life". 


After JB and I got married in 2002, the thought of having children filled me with anxiety.  However, by the time I turned 32 in November 2007, I knew that we needed to make a decision on whether we should have children or not, because my biological clock had started ticking.  I quickly got pregnant in February 2008.


During my pregnancy, I read a lot of articles about anti-depressants and the effects it could have on the fetus.  I thought I could manage my anxiety on my own and went off Prozac a few months before my due date.  As the end of my pregnancy approached though, things started to feel off.  I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I couldn't breathe, and I would start to panic.  With each passing day, I would grow more and more anxious about the delivery and taking care of a newborn.  I was terrified.  Finally, a couple of days before I went into labor, I told my midwife the symptoms I was having, and she had me start on a small dose of Zoloft.


On Saturday, November 15th, I went into labor.  It was a relatively easy labor and birth, especially with an epidural.  I went into the hospital with it feeling like summer, and overnight, it turned into winter.  The anxiety started early.  Those first two nights in the hospital I couldn't sleep at all, getting only one or two hours a night.  I was consumed with anxiety about falling asleep and worried about Lewis waking up needing to eat as soon as I fell asleep.  I confided some of my feelings to the nurses, and they assured me I was feeling normal.


Things did not improve when I went home.  The overwhelming feelings of anxiety consumed every waking minute, and I found no respite from sleep.  I was awake all the time.  Lewis had a rough first night at home crying all night.  I didn't think I would be able to handle it.  On top of that, I developed a sinus infection and pink eye.


My appetite was gone, and I couldn't manage to keep any food down.  Since I was breastfeeding, JB tried to encourage me to eat.  He went to the grocery store and bought all the foods that he thought would tempt me to eat.  Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, Pop Tarts....I didn't want to eat any of it, and the thought of food revolted me.


My problems with insomnia continued, and I only was getting about three to four hours of sleep a night, despite Lewis sleeping for three hour stretches.  This triggered a new fear in me.  I became terrified that I would develop post-partum psychosis and harm the baby in my sleep-deprived state.  I couldn't seek help for this.  What if they took Lewis away from us and put him in foster care?  I was alone.  I confided my feelings to JB and my mom, and while it helped some, it didn't diminish the fear.  I didn't trust my hands, and I wouldn't let JB leave me alone with Lewis.  I am grateful to this day for a kind and understanding graduate advisor that let JB take off extended time to be with me.  One morning I woke up with this overwhelming sensation that I had left Lewis in my bed and that he was under the covers, suffocating.  I frantically threw the covers off saying that I could feel his body in the bed, while JB tried to tell me he was safe in his crib. 


I also took no interest in Lewis, since I was overwhelmed with my own grief and anxiety.  JB would bring him in to me, and I would look away.  I fed him, changed his diaper, and put him to bed, but I had no other interest in him.  Well-meaning friends wrote me and said how overjoyed I must be, not knowing the hell I was currently going through. 


Slowly, the Zoloft started working.  I had fleeting moments of calm, often in the evening when I knew that I had survived another day.  I clearly remember the first moment I felt joy in having a baby.  It was around Christmas, and JB was photographing a wedding that evening.  I had put on the movie "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers".  I picked up Lewis and started singing that terrible song, "Bless Her Beautiful Hide", and I felt my first moment of connection with Lewis as I sang to him.


It took a lot of courage to agree to a second pregnancy, but I didn't want Lewis to be an only sibling.  With Simon, I stayed on the Zoloft through my delivery. It was a totally different experience.  I still had moments of feeling overwhelmed and anxious, but I could manage.  I feel guilty that Lewis had to experience the absence of his mother the first two months of his life, but he has turned out to be a wonderful, smart, caring little boy.  I find joy and happiness in my two children every day, and I couldn't imagine my life without them.  In the end, it was more than worth it.