I've returned to this blog because I have a new story to tell.
On May 22nd, I received something that changed my life forever, the birth of my son. 37 days later, I received something else that changed me forever: a diagnosis of postpartum depression and anxiety.
I post a lot of pictures of Jackson. Maybe too many. A lot of shots of smiling or sleeping or cuddling or playing. All the things you would expect to see from a first-time mom. Truth be told though, there was a lot going on that was unseen, things I had never expected in a thousand years - Overwhelming depression, and anxiety so deep that I surely thought it was solidified inside my bones.
Now, I’m certainly no stranger to the world of anxiety. And not ashamed of it, either; I’ve been quite open about my struggles. I blogged about it, posted encouraging memes, shared my story with fellow sufferers.
But PPD/PPA has been a different beast. Though I have come a long way since my diagnosis, I had never felt so ashamed of anything in my life. To admit it to myself in the beginning crushed my spirit. I railed against it for so long, thinking that I had no right to feel this way, not after everything I had gone through to get pregnant, stay pregnant, and give birth to Jackson.
Like my infertility journey, my journey to motherhood did not go the way I had planned. I suppose I had always believed that getting pregnant was the end of the struggle.
I was wrong.
I was terrified while I was pregnant. It just seemed like one thing after the other went wrong. I had an anterior placenta so I could hardly feel him move for the longest time.
I had extra scans and blood tests because of IVF, and an early one revealed that Jackson had pyelactsis, dilated kidneys, which led to MORE scans and tests and several visits to a perinatologist. Other medical issues popped up after his birth, but we are making our way through them.
We found out early that he was transverse breech, and despite going to a chiropractor and an acupuncturist, he would not flip. I remember the day my obstetrician apologized to me, knowing how important it was, but told me that I would not be able to have a natural birth, that Jackson could not be safely maneuvered, and it was medically necessary to deliver by C-section.
I struggled with breastfeeding, the one thing I told the nurses in the Mother Baby Unit I would not concede. My body had been useless in all other regards, but no one would take that from me. But it was months of struggle and stress and anxiety, though I am very, very proud to state that at nearly sixteen months old, Jackson has never had a bottle, nor a drop of formula. I finally see my body as something amazing.
One by one, each experience broke me down a little more. I fought like hell for 3.5 years to become a mother, and I finally was – but I was so depressed and so anxious, when all I hoped to feel was joy.
Though I should have anticipated it. it broke my heart to get the diagnosis of PPD/PPA. I felt like a failure as a mother.
Some days, I still do.
I grieve over the times I struggled. I worry that my husband and my child will resent me for the way I was in the beginning. My grief is compounded over the fact that, more likely than not, we will have no more children. I feel like I screwed up the only opportunity I had.
Therapy, medication, and time have helped heal the wound, but I have a way to go. Every day is different. I still cry, but I smile a lot more, too.
Jackson is the light of my life, and I can say with absolute certainty that he has been worth every procedure, shot, scan, and tear.
If you are suffering from feelings of inadequacy, failure, or are having trouble bonding with your baby, please know you are not alone.
It is not your fault.
There is help.
Please reach out.
