When we brought Josie home from the hospital, we lifted her tiny body out of her car seat and laid her on a pretty blanket on the floor. She stared at us, we stared at her, and waited for her to do something. The first weeks are a blur of feeding and diaper changes and crying and bits of sleep.
Josh was able to take a week off of work to stay home with Josie and I. I would not have survived without him. This man woke up at every night feeding to get me more water and snacks. He changed so many diapers, rocked and shhh'd our girl back to sleep and was a swaddle pro. But seven days after I birthed Josie into the world, I was home alone with her. When she woke for the day, I unswaddled our little burrito and walked down the hall to the stairs.
When I approached the steps, a heat wave came over my body. I got dizzy and my breathing quickened. I sat down on the top step, holding my 8 pound baby. I remained there for almost an hour. I realized that Josh had always carried Josie up and down the stairs. I had never done it before. And the fear of tripping and dropping my baby literally froze me in that hallway with the bad carpet and textured walls.
In my recovery room at the hospital, I remember Dr. Brandt (the saint and angel who delivered Josie) saying something about hormones and that I may be weepy for the next few weeks and that this is normal and don't read into it too much. I did not know this could include me spontaneously combusting into tears at absolutely nothing or feeling rage creep up behind me encouraging me to put my fist through the dining room wall. I'd never cried the entire time I'd eaten lasagna before. What was wrong with me?!
When Josh returned home after his first day back, I handed him our daughter and screamed "I hate this! I hate breastfeeding, I hate crying all the time, I don't want to do this!" A few hours later, my phone rang and it was Diane, Dr. Brandt's nurse. She asked how I was doing. I wanted to scream, "Not great Diane!" I may have even yelled this but I think I just began crying. Again. She gave me the Edinburg Test over the phone. This is a ten question screening that helps determine if a mother could be experiencing postpartum depression or anxiety. The screening includes a mom's reactions to statements like "things have been getting on top of me" and "I have felt scared or panicky for no very good reason."
I sat at the dining room table, trying to respond honestly and being completely humiliated by my answers. She let me know I scored quite high on the Edinburg scale. "Katie, I am not going to get off the phone with you until we make a plan to get you the help you need." Diane did not know this at the time, but this is the moment where she saved my life.
As I sit at a coffee shop and write this, over a year later, I wish I could go hug myself as a new mama. I was so riddled with postpartum anxiety and depression that it took every ounce of my strength to pull myself out of bed, feed Josie, and sometimes feed myself. I was in a deep pit that I could not climb out of by myself. And even worse, I did my very best to make sure my closest friends and family had no idea. I imagined telling someone I was depressed and didn't feel a connection to Josie and them assuming I hated my baby and wanted to hurt her so she would get taken away from me.
Diane helped me make a plan. She pointed me to a postpartum support group that I began attending the day after our call and have gone to nearly every Tuesday since. (Shout out to the Maternal Wellness Program!) I began meeting with a therapist and started on a low dose of Zoloft. A volunteer from Moms Bloom came over for once a week for two months. Isabelle snuggled and played with Josie and I knew she was well cared for while I did normal adult human being things like shower and laundry and scroll Instagram. And I did all this while responding to texts from family and friends that I was great and Josie was great and motherhood was great. You know, how you lie to the people you love to not appear vulnerable and needy? You know how you laugh about it so you won't cry about it?
I debated with myself for a long time over sharing my postpartum story. It felt like inviting the world to see all the ugly and messy parts that I needed to keep hidden in order to remain loved by others, be a good mom, and keep up the appearance that a modern woman can truly have it all. (And by "it all", I mean rolling up to work with dry shampoo in, expired mascara on, still in your maternity jeans, and the certainty that spit up isn't on you. Probably.) But I know that postpartum issues are common and not talked about enough. So I hope I can open the door, even just a little bit.
If you get one thing out of this blog post it should be that Postpartum Depression and Anxiety is real and uninvited. Those amazing mamas who suffer from this do not hate their children, they are not lazy or neurotic. They love their child so much that their brain has gone through a thousand scenarios that could put them in danger and can be paralyzed with their responsibility to this tiny, precious life. A new mom without postpartum disorders needs a shower, warm meals, naps, cozy socks, and the reassurance that she is doing a FREAKING GREAT JOB! And a new mom with PPD need all of those too. She may also benefit from a support group, a counselor, medication, and extra help from family and friends. And this is NOTHING to be ashamed of.
Diane asked me one additional question on the phone that day. "Who do you have helping you?" And I cried to her than other than Josh, there was no one. And this was of my own doing. I did not know before Josie that we would need help and I did not know how to ask for it after. I thought I may have been too proud to ask but I really think I may have just been too ashamed. I know we have a whole community who loves us and our daughter and who may read this and say "I didn't know" or "I would have helped!" I know this now and hope you can pass that love and service on to other parents as well.
Friends and family, please know that new parents don't always know what they need. Never show up unannounced or empty handed. Don't ask "what can I do?" Just start doing dishes or laundry or mowing the lawn. Bring them diapers and snacks and food and more snacks. (If you haven't learned by now, snacks are very, VERY important.) Tell the new parents in your life that they are doing a FREAKING GREAT JOB! They need to hear this.
New parents, you were not meant to parent alone. You were meant to be able to rest and heal from the event of birth. You were meant to learn how to feed your child in whatever way is best for you and your family. You are allowed to invite people in and show people out whenever you'd like. You are doing the important and holy work of raising a human being. You are doing a FREAKING GREAT JOB, even when it doesn't feel like it.