Becoming Mommy (part two: post partum)

I've decided not to get into this so much but I think I can now say that I had some post-partum depression when little A was born. In comparison to some, it was quite mild, but it was nonetheless awful for a little while.

Okay, cool, just had to get that off my chest. Probably more to come later. I am so grateful that period in my life is over (and in fact it did not last that long) though I feel so much more empathy for people with depression. Seriously, big sinkholes full of empathy. Big fat cenotes.

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Here's the "more to come" and never mind I guess I am going to get into it. I figure maybe a summary would be educational. From the brief bit I've read about it there is quite a spectrum of post-partum depression and I was lucky enough to be on the short-lived end of things. The end where you think maybe it's just baby blues plus seasonal affected disorder plus I had a colicky newborn plus everyone else is a better mom than me. Except that last part is not true. I am at least average.

Anyway, I'm a little jealous that El Esposo felt such an immediate love and connection for our little sweetie pie from her first cry when she was only halfway out. Here I had felt the little monster dance and perform acrobatics and kick and head butt my bladder and I had read a bajillion books and researched the crap out of all the things we needed to be prepared for her and scoured craigslist and felt that I loved her so much already but at that moment I just felt TIRED. And after that I felt pleased by her adorableness and watching her with "daddy" but also just HEAVY with the responsibility of eighteen years plus forever. Now that I step back, I do think a lot of the bits of happiness I did feel came more from El Esposo at the beginning. I never felt completely removed from him. He was kind of my way of accessing the world I think. Anyway, it probably did not help that I was in a lot of physical pain for the first two months of her life due to major tearing.

The main thing was the first three weeks when I felt something I had never felt before, and that something was NOTHING. No appetite or ability to taste anything, no excitement, definitely none of this "euphoria" which I seem to read about everywhere. Most of the time no sadness either. Just a lack, an emptiness where feeling is supposed to go. And it weighed on me. I felt almost constantly aware of not caring about anything. I knew it was the hormones, though, because it came in these waves that I could feel physically. One minute, I felt like I could at least have a normal conversation. I could at least smile, or even fake it. Then, suddenly, it felt like all the window shades in our house being shut simultaneously and I had just enough time to think, "Oh no!" before it started. I have never before or since felt the physical impossibility of a smile like I did during those, I guess "episodes."

I remember playing a game with my parents (they visited during the first two weeks) and having no desire to win or use any kind of strategy or be annoyed by anything anyone else did, which is the opposite of my normal experience (I was brought up in a hyper-competitive board game-loving family). I had a hard time with breastfeeding and I felt sort of numb and also sort of useless as a human. The poor baby was starving because I wasn't producing enough so she cried and cried and cried and would not sleep. Finally we started supplementing but at first she wouldn't take the bottle from me and so she would go back to crying constantly and not sleeping if no one else was around, and me feeling useless some more. Once we were past that hurdle, she got colicky and we found out she had acid reflux. And this was the pattern, or so it kept seeming, that new challenges kept popping up and I felt in a constant state of oh-crap-did-I-make-a-mistake-with-this-precious-life-what-is-wrong-with-me. I knew absolutely that these challenges were seeming worse than they were (they were quite normal, though certainly not ideal) because I was depressed.

There was no doubt in my mind I was depressed, I just didn't know what to call it: Baby Blues? PPD? SAD (thanks winter for snowing more than any other year)? Another time I remember going out to dinner with my parents and El Esposo and the sleeping baby and ordering something I barely ate any of and participating in the conversation like an outsider, almost like I was watching a movie and occasionally commenting on the action on screen. Since I didn't feel like eating or talking, I found that after I drank three straight glasses of water I started to feel better, as in slightly closer to normal. So the most basic necessity of life became even more a necessity to me. When I felt the wave coming I would grab a glass of water and hope for the best.

About three weeks in I talked to El Esposo about it and said I thought maybe I was starting to get better as the breaks in the clouds I felt were seeming longer. He asked me what I wanted to do if I did not get better soon. DRUGS, I said. I had no qualms. There was no doubt in my mind that I could not properly care for a baby by myself feeling like I did. I was helped immensely by El Esposo at this time. It was perfect that he was able to take a full five weeks off at work. If he hadn't been able to, I have no idea how little A and I would have survived. To say I love that man is a gross understatement.

But here's the lucky thing: I started to feel better. Not a lot better, but enough, and for the most part a little more myself each day. Even as the baby's fussiness was actually getting worse, my ability to cope with it got better. Sure, sometimes I cried right along with her, but it felt normal. I could step back from myself and see that I just felt tired, not sapped of feeling. So I never got the drugs. But, I guarantee you that I would have. That is not a darkness I want to weather any longer than absolutely necessary. I know it can go on for a couple of years for some women and I am so sorry for them and I honestly hope the zoloft is doing its job. Because if it is not getting any better, take the zoloft, honey. Or exercise, or get a babysitter, whatever you need.

Anyway, at some point during all that mess I started to feel like a mom. I could look at my baby and just smile and smile. The way you are supposed to. The way it seemed like all the other new moms around me were from day one. It was maybe two months or three, though to be honest a little bit of it did linger, possibly to six months--it's hard to know. Actually, at first I was really annoyed with the other moms for being so happy and content. I know I only saw the surface and they probably had a hard time with some things too, but even so I do realize now that my experience really was a little different than most and there's no need to be annoyed with the others as I do not wish them to have my experience. I probably was in that unlucky 10%, or maybe the unreported other, which I am sure there is a lot of, that experience post-partum depression symptoms. I guess the only way to really know for sure is see if I feel different next time.

So there you have it. It could have been much worse, and what do I know maybe it is even more common than I am aware and it's going to be like that next time too. At least I'll know what to expect and know that one day soon I am going to be completely in love with the little munchkin. Also my daughter is awesome and has the most darling giggle which is my very favorite sound.