post partem depression

Finding Balance Between Body, Mind & Social Network During Postpartum Depression

By Katherine Stone June 7, 2011

Are you still there? Holding your own hand and looking your suffering in the eye, as we talked about in yesterday’s post on wishing away postpartum depression?

If so, then you are probably ready to add some of the “doing” parts into your recovery process. Yes, the “being” and “doing” is a tricky balance that needs to be considered all along the way. Sometimes you may need to allow yourself to slow down the pace and to acknowledge, once again, where you are and how you are feeling.

We know that perinatal mood and anxiety disorders like postpartum depression are a biopsychosocial challenge for women, meaning that they are most likely caused by disruptions or challenges in a woman’s biology (physiological system), psychology (emotional and psychological system), and social network (including friends, family, and community). Usually, finding wellness requires a look into all of these areas to see where there are strengths and where there are challenges. And these systems are usually somewhat overlapping, like the Olympic Games logo’s circles. There are places where strength in one area might allow for strength in the other, and vice versa. But wellness almost always involves feelings of wholeness in each of these three areas.

So, in my practice I often walk women through each one of these areas in an effort to take inventory, so to speak. We look at where she is grounded and full and also where she is feeling untethered and lacking.

This process looks something like this:

PHYSICAL SELF: What are you doing right now to help your physical body to feel strong? What does your nutrition intake look like? How is your sleep? Are you currently taking medicine for your postpartum depression or anxiety symptoms and, if not, is it important to have a medication evaluation? Are you pushing yourself too hard? Are you engaging in some exercise each day whether it be stretching or walking or other more moderate forms? Are you breathing deeply? Are you drinking plenty of water? Are you getting outside to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on your face?

PSYCHOLOGICAL SELF: Are you meeting yourself where you are or do you need to set more realistic expectations? Are your priorities clear? Are you consumed by the “shoulds” placed on us by society, books, family, and friends or are you allowing yourself to follow a path that feels right to you? Are you using words of kindness and compassion with yourself or are you using a tone with yourself that is harsh and unsupportive? Are you engaging in thought patterns that are useful and realistic or are you engaging in perfectionist thinking? Do you find yourself thinking in black and white extremes or are you allowing yourself to be open to all that is in between? Are there old family patterns or unresolved family conflict that is interfering with your ability to be present with your baby right now? Do you have a trauma history that is resurfacing and deserves attention? Do you have a number of stress reduction and grounding strategies that are useful in times of chaos or are you feeling ill equipped in this area? Are you currently working with a trained therapist who can help support you and work with you to find new ways of thinking and managing your stress or is it time for you to find one?

SOCIAL SELF: How supported are you? Are you able to ask for help when you need it? Do you have a community of friends, family, neighbors and/or health providers to support you along this journey through postpartum depression? Are you and your partner able to work together during this time of high vulnerability or can you use some support around relationships?

Sometimes it is helpful to see all of this on paper, to create a sort of a table along the way. If this resonates and if you choose to go this route, you might consider a table in which the vertical columns contain the 3 areas of wellness (Physical, psychological, and social) and the horizontal columns contain space for strengths and challenges:

WELLNESS ELEMENT	CURRENT ACTIVITIES SUPPORTING WELLNESS	IS ANYTHING MISSING?
PHYSICAL
EMOTIONAL/PSYCHOLOGICAL
SOCIAL

I want to reiterate that this is a process that is correlated and, often, requires the help of a trained professional who can work with you to sort through the many layers of your being. Sometimes, sometimes, simply going through this process with intention can help you to feel more empowered and in control of your wellness. Often, this is not the case and unbalanced biochemistry or sleep deprivation is just making it too darn difficult to do what you know that you need to feel better. It is likely that once you find some sense of wholeness and wellness in your physical body (including adequate sleep, nutrition, and balanced biochemistry), the other three areas will be easier to work with. And, usually, when you feel a bit more full in all three areas of holistic health, you will feel happy to great yourself right where you are. And you will find joy in simply “being.”

Kate Kripke, LCSW

June 7, 2011 9:56 am Filed Under: Causes

How Trying To Wish Postpartum Depression Away Can Hinder Your Recovery

By Katherine Stone June 6, 2011

This last week or two has been marked by lots of strategy building in my Boulder, CO, psychotherapy practice. This is an important part of the work for women as they move towards wellness in the postpartum period. At the same time, in the work that I do there is attention paid to a very careful balance between the “being” and the “doing” pieces involved in recovery from a postpartum mood or anxiety disorder like postpartum depression. Often, women want nothing more than to get themselves the heck out of where they are – both emotionally and logistically.

“I cannot feel like this for one more second,” so many of these moms say. “I want out,” they acknowledge. “I want to just get on a bus and disappear,” they determine. “ I should have never decided to have children,” they mourn. “I do not want to have to be in this therapy office,” they declare.

And, oh, how much I wish I could push that big red shiny button for these mamas and make all of the pain and suffering disappear … that would be so wonderfully poetic and such a relief. Being in that place of great despair is so heart-wrenching and conflicting for the women who find themselves there.

And so acknowledging this place of great hurt is difficult. But it is also an important part of the recovery process. Wishing it all away is a natural reaction but also is, quite frankly, self-defeating. Most of us will find that the more we try to feel differently, the less likely we are to move in that direction. Instead, and against all that seems rational at the moment, meeting yourself right where you are during postpartum depression or anxiety is the place that all recovery stems from.

Instead of judging ourselves for our shortcomings, we try to validate. Instead of telling ourselves it is wrong to feel a certain way, we empathize. Instead of getting out the punching bag, we muster up a hug. For ourselves.

With all of the amazing and empowering gifts that motherhood offers, being a mom is also bloody hard work — especially if you are struggling with a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder like postpartum depression. It is back breaking. It is heart breaking. It is confusing. It is exhausting. It is overwhelming. It is draining. It sometimes feels suffocating. It requires us to face our shortcomings. It asks us to be willing to make mistakes. It beckons us to revisit old hurts. It pushes us to look at who we are and where we have been. And all of this can catch moms off guard when the most “expected” thing is maternal bliss and happiness (yes, this happens too, but often not for quite some time for many women).

There is a difference here, I must add, between meeting yourself where you are with acceptance, compassion, and understanding and “settling in” to this uncomfortable place as a way of giving in to the power of these challenges. I am not asking you to give up or to hand yourself over or to decide that this is how you will feel forever. I am asking you to simply open yourself up to what is happening for you as a way of looking it straight in the eye as if to say “Okay. Here I am. I see you despair/anxiety/overwhelm/sadness. I am looking at you for what you are and I am now going to hug myself, hold my own hand, and do my best to close the door on your company.”

And once you do that, you can begin to move forward with an authenticity and a pace that will lead you in the direction that you desire.

(Be sure to check in tomorrow for part 2 on strategizing towards wellness.)

Kate Kripke, LCSW

June 6, 2011 9:47 am Filed Under: Postpartum Depression

Being Open to Treatment for Postpartum Depression

By Katherine Stone June 5, 2011

A Postpartum Progress reader made the following comment in an email to me last week:

“If only I had been more open to medication in the beginning, maybe this wouldn’t have taken as long?”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that, not only in relation to medication but to any treatment at all. So many have told me after the fact how much they wish they’d reached out for help sooner or been more open to certain treatment methods sooner.

We are all so convinced we should be able to get over perinatal mood and anxiety disorders like postpartum depression ourselves. So we wait. We hope it goes away on its own. We hope we figure out the key to getting better. Many of us do everything other than ask for help, partially because we are afraid of the treatment itself. It’s not an uncommon thing to do, so don’t beat yourself up about it.

At the same time, I hope you won’t prolong your misery any further. Whether it’s therapy, or medication, or some combination thereof in addition to sleep, nutrition, exercise, acupuncture or whatever you do, please do it. I know it’s scary. It was scary for me to go see a counselor. It was also worth it.

If you feel you have the signs of postpartum depression or anxiety, ask for help. The right people can help you and hasten your recovery.

June 5, 2011 10:40 am Filed Under: Postpartum Depression

The Battle Hymn of the Warrior Mom

By Katherine Stone June 3, 2011

Postpartum Progress reader Amy Perry sent me this email, and agreed to let me share it with you:

Do you, a warrior mom, have a battle hymn? A theme song, if you will? And, do you think your readers may, too? Mine will change from time to time, given what’s new, but the one I’m stuck on right now and love to run to is “Dog Days Are Over” by Florence + The Machine. For, with a little determination, some help from my friends, and a lot of hope, I think the dog days will be over soon.

I loved the way Amy put this and wanted to share it with you so she could get your input. What songs got you through postpartum depression or anxiety or antenatal depression? In the comments, let us know what your Warrior Mom Battle Hymn was or is! I'd love to know too!

June 3, 2011 8:23 am Filed Under: Warrior Moms

Need Help Finding A Postpartum Depression Specialist?

By Katherine Stone June 2, 2011

Fotolia - © Vladimir Vydrin

On the Postpartum Progress Facebook Fan Page, a reader asked about how to find the best help for postpartum depression or related illnesses. My advice? Ask a mom who knows. I think the best people to talk to are women who have already been through PPD who have been to someone who was really supportive and helped them recover.

There are a lot of survivors hanging out here with us at PP, so I feel fortunate to have gotten to know a lot of the specialists around the country thanks to them and my advocacy work. I am always happy to connect you with them. You can find some listed on the Postpartum Progresspostpartum depression specialists page, or you can ask me a question on Facebook, or you can email me.

Another great thing to do is speak to local advocacy organizations. They often have the best knowledge around about who has a lot of experience in your state treating women with perinatal mood and anxiety disorders. We have a list of postpartum depression support organizations – just find your state alphabetically in the list and contact the organization directly.

Please note, when I say “postpartum depression specialist” that is shorthand for a specialist in perinatal mood and anxiety disorders, also called reproductive psychiatry or perinatal psychiatry. This means this person should be able to help you regardless of whether you have postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety, postpartum OCD, postpartum psychosis, antenatal depression (depression during pregnancy) or whatever. So don’t feel that if you don’t have PPD there is no one who can help you.

I try wherever possible to include special treatment centers from other English speaking countries as well, including the UK, Australia and Canada, so if you are from one of those countries, you may be able to find good contacts from our support organization and specialists lists as well.

Oh!, and DO NOT feel uncomfortable asking me for help, silly. That’s what I’m here for. YOU. So ask away if you just don’t have the energy to search yourself.

Just wanted to do a quick refresher for those of you who aren’t sure how to find someone to help you.

June 2, 2011 12:54 pm Filed Under: Postpartum Anxiety, Postpartum Depression, Postpartum OCD

Why Mindfulness Should Matter to Moms

By Katherine Stone May 26, 2011

I have had one of those weeks in which each moment of each day has felt like playing catch up. You know the weeks: I find myself exhausted upon waking up, harried through breakfast with my kids, late for preschool drop off, barely on time for my first client session of the day, behind on paperwork, late for pick up, short tempered through dinner and bath time, impatient during book time before bed, too lazy to eat anything other than cereal for dinner, and then exhausted again at bed time. And all that is not including the time that I have tried to occupy keeping the house in some kind of order, paying my bills, folding laundry that has been sitting in the laundry room for days, supporting friends who just had babies, staying connected to my husband, playing with my daughters and, if I am lucky, getting to yoga.

It has been one of those weeks.

Which kind of makes me laugh, to be honest, because there are many, many times that people assume, since I am a specialist in the field of mental health and perinatal mood disorders, that I’ve figured it all out. That I’ve got it down. That I am some how Superwoman.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

You see, we are all human. And we all have to practice being the best that we can be. And we all have these weeks, no matter how much we love our children or our jobs or our friends. And we all survive.

I'm writing on mindfulness today because I was reminded of something incredibly important in my yoga class this weekend (yes, I actually got there!). Whether you consider yourself a yoga practitioner or not, much of the philosophical or spiritual practice that yoga entails is a bulletproof reminder of what’s important in times of stress: Mindfulness. And while these times of stress may seem infinite when struggling with PPD or another perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, they will still be there from time to time when you have recovered.

And so I invite you, just for a moment, to step on to your “mat” – in whatever way that “mat” presents itself to you:

Close your eyes. Yes, if you feel safe enough to close them for just a moment. Notice your breath. Are you breathing quickly? Shallow? Not at all? Slow it down. Bring that breath all the way to the bottom of your belly. Notice for one brief moment the space between your inhale and your exhale.

Then, become aware of your surroundings. What do you hear? What does it feel like to be sitting in your chair? What does it feel like to be you right this second and in all of your complicated glory. What does it feel like to be you without all of the self-judgment but simply just the way that you are? Oh, and don’t forget about your breath.

Now, to what I was reminded of today. My teacher this morning spoke about how what happens on the yoga mat is a perfect reflection of what happens in our lives outside of the yoga studio. Do we rush through postures? Do we forget to breathe? Are we judging ourselves and becoming frustrated when we can’t get into a certain pose or aren’t “good enough” at yoga? Are we comparing ourselves to the others in the room? Are we paying attention to what feels right in our bodies or are we doing what we think our bodies “should” do and therefore putting ourselves at risk for injury? What happens when we exist in these ways in a yoga class? We lose our balance. We fall. We become more frustrated.

Instead, what would happen if we decided to slow down? To breathe. Deeply. To pay attention to what feels right today, not yesterday or tomorrow, but today at this very instant? What would happen if we choose to look inside rather than around the room at others? If we decided to give our bodies and ourselves the benefit of the doubt?

I’ll tell you: We would balance.

You see, it’s a common tendency to speed up when we become stressed or overwhelmed. We try to cram more in so that we can feel more accomplished. We try to push ourselves because we feel like we should, and we become tired and depleted in the doing. When we are stressed most of us speak in ways that are unkind to ourselves, judgmental and very non-empathetic. “I can’t believe you can’t do this,” we say. “You are so lame for being such a failure and for falling behind,” we criticize. “Obviously you will never be able to do it,” we command. And, usually, we forget to breathe. And we lose our balance.

The message is fairly simple and I needed a good dose of reminding myself. The more mindful we are the more grounded we become. When we move and make choices with intention we are rewarded with calm more often than not. Being a mama is hard and we are pushed and moved in more ways than we can all count. Add a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder and we can feel more off balance than ever.

But practicing mindfulness does not have to happen in a yoga studio or on a real life yoga mat. It can happen anywhere. Sometimes it takes practice, but it is most certainly worth the try.

Kate Kripke, LCSW

May 26, 2011 11:02 am Filed Under: Alternative Treatments, Postpartum Depression

When Bonding Isn’t Immediate: Feeling Like You Don’t Love Your Baby Enough

By Katherine Stone May 24, 2011

Monday I read this post from Lexy at Mammywoo about not bonding with your child right away when you have postpartum depression and just loved it. LOVED. IT. I’m thrilled she granted me permission to reprint it here for all of you, as I KNOW you will relate. So many mothers feel they will never experience that bonding, that postpartum depression has ruined it forever, and that’s just not true.

‘A woman with a child rediscovers the world. All is changed – politics, loyalties, needs. For now, all is judged by the life of the child … and all of the children’ ~ Pam Brown

Yes thanks Pam.

Anybody who has ever had a bump the size of Albania bulging from under their t-shirt will be able to attest to the fact that when you are visibly pregnant you seemingly, and against your will, become public property.

If you don’t believe me, I absolutely recommend you take a small dog, or perhaps a bean bag, and shove it up your jumper and head to the shops to test the theory.(Maybe not a small dog, the whimpering and squirming may put you off your stride.)

Having a rather large bulge just above your nether regions (and I don’t mean a hiatus hernia) must just give the impression that you are simply desperate for everybody to come over and touch it, and/or offer you unwanted and mostly unwarranted advice.

Out of nowhere you go from not showing and having a romantic little secret, to showing and having every man and his dog run their hands/paws over your growing uterus while offering you words of wisdom and tiny pearls of poo. (I call them pearls of poo, because a lot of the advice I heard off strangers while pregnant really wasn’t advice at all, it was poo. Pearl sized poo.)

Don’t reach up or the baby will be strangled on the chord … (Really, Aunty Pat?)  Try not to eat so much … (Rip, Sarah.) There is no such thing as a due date … (Huh? I think you will find there is old woman!) Don’t call the baby a stupid name … (We like Radiator Leak Doyle, what business it is of yours?)  You are huge, are you having twins? … (SLAP!)

The list is endless, but the one which I heard, interestingly enough, from people who both knew me well and were mothers themselves (so I felt I should listen and believe them) was:

“Motherhood will change you.”

“What?” I would stutter, “Why does everybody keep saying this to me? Do you think I need to change? You don’t think I’ll be a good mum as I am now? How will it change me?” was usually my nervous, insecure, blimp-like and panicked reply.

“Mwahahahahahaha,” they would cackle as they threw their heads back with evil glee, “You will see! You will see!” And with that they would sweep their flowing black capes from out behind them, with all their children clinging on for dear life, and disappear into the night like terrifying visions of the ghost of Christmas Future.

In fact I heard this phrase so often, combined with its partner in crime “You will feel a love so overwhelming you won’t remember life before him,”that leading up to my due date (that didn’t exist) I actually became rather worried that as soon as I had given birth, my memory of life pre-pleb (as we had nicknamed the bump) would be completely wiped out and I would wake up as an entirely different person. Bette Midler maybe, but with a bigger nose.

Lifting my half-numb legs an hour post-birthup on to the bed that was to be my home for the next seven days, and with the little ferret parked in a plastic basting tray next to me all wrapped up and looking like a cute prune, I began to worry that other than being a little bit teary, absolutely knackered and in a huge amount of agony, I still felt like me. I was officially a mother now, so wasn’t I supposed to feel like a changed person?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I had just had a baby, so of course I was over the moon, overwhelmed and overweight, but other than the obvious changes to my anatomy, including far too many stitches and a drain, I had to be honest that I didn’t feel any different, and upon further examination, I could still remember my life before birth too. What was wrong with me? Wasn’t I supposed to have forgotten my entire life leading up to this moment?

“Would you like some tea and toast?,” the floating head of a midwife appeared from behind my curtain and kindly asked me in a soft, sleepy voice.

“No, but could I please have a strong black coffee, a bag of square crisps and a pillow?” was my reply.

Definitely still me then.

Maybe I will feel different in the morning, I thought to myself after spending an hour-and-a-half trying to have a wee. Maybe you have to sleep on it.

We hadn’t been home for long before I was feeling intensly sleep deprived and hugely grumpy. Visitors came and went and for a while I wondered if The Irish One had started a guest house without telling me. I just wanted to shower, to sleep and then sleep some more.

(Wouldn’t it make more sense if the visitors came at leastamonth after you are home? Because seriously, the last thing you want when you are having to walk like John Wayne and every second step makes you screech like a banshee is a coach load of distant relatives traipsing through your house and man-handling the goods, you know?)

The Irish One was constantly professing to me his love for Newborn Woo. He was a doting daddy and it pissed me off. (I can’t explain this. It just did.)

“I know,” I would mumble, irritated, from underneath the duvet (the guests had got bored of me whacking my breasts out while they were trying to drink a brew and eat us out of house and home, and had finally buggered off). “I know, yes,” I would repeat as he droned on about knowing the meaning of true love. “I love him too, but don’t tell me he is awake again, is he? He isn’t is he?” I would panic, terrified the next round of nipple torture was about to start.

“If you feel like that about him waking up to see you,” he said pointedly, removing his (ginger) head from inside the moses basket, “Maybe it is time to stop breast feeding! He isn’t taking enough anyway and you don’t seem to have any coming out, so what harm can it do? Let’s give him a bloody bottle.”

“Shut up!!,” I raged back. “How dare you!” The pressure I felt to succeed at everything was immense. I resented his insinuation that I was failing. As it was, I am not sure that The Irish One even knows what the word insinuate means, never mind having had the energy or inclination, at that time, to follow it through! He was just worried about me, but I was too scared to see it.

Did I feel different when the decision to stop breastfeeding was made? Nope. Stopping breastfeeding just confirmed my failure status. I had gone from probable failure to failure absolut with one sweep of a plastic teat. (The lanosil is still in the fridge as a constant reminder of what could have been. I can’t be arsed to take it out. It’s next to the jam that has been there since 2002. Some jobs I just never get round to.)

I was officially a crap mum, who could remember her past, and (shock horror!) even missed the easygoing way it used to be! I would have killed for an hour in front of the telly uninterrupted! I also wasn’t sure I was any different at all – other than my inability to hold my bladder when I sneezed, or stop eating mayo by the ton, motherhood hadn’t changed me at all! And yes I loved my son but (are you ready for this?) it wasn’t overwhelming! (MONSTER!!!)

I loved him because he was mine, sure. I loved him because he was gorgeous and I loved him because he was cute and sweet and tiny. I loved him because he was my son and I had to love him, didn’t I?

I felt like I had to love him because if I didn’t who else would?

This is extremely hard for me to admit, and I have tears rolling down my face as I write this. Not because I still feel the same, but because nobody told me this could happen, so I thought I wasn’t normal. I beat myself up, and I broke my own heart. I became convinced I didn’t love him enough and there was something wrong with me.

Every new mother I spoke to would go on and on and on and on about how much they loved their child, and how easy it was, and how natural it felt to them, and how they had whipped up some mange tout while expressing breast milk in to a pre-warmed bottle, while cooking a roast for their husband and then pleasuring him while changing a nappy. The pressure for ‘motherhood to change me’ and for my love for him to be ‘overwhelming’ was too much. It hadn’t happened overnight. So I was officially a horrible, nasty, selfish freak of a person.

The health visitor arrived 8 years later, after many calls from the Irish One reminding her I still existed, to examine ‘A.J’, as she infuriatingly kept calling him, and to check on me. She obviously had a thing about abbreviating and changing names as she surprised me by calling me ‘Mum’ while examining my son. I was caught off guard and somehow ended up blabbing that I had stopped breastfeeding because of the pain. She shook her head in disappointment and said ‘That’s a shame Mum.’

Who me? Don’t call me mum! That doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t fit with me yet. I don’t feel like a mother or a mum. I can’t even breastfeed right, can I? I am not his mum. I am just the person who cleans up poo, spends 40 minutes of every hour chasing an elusive burp and who will never again drink a hot cup of tea.

My name is Lexy. Not ‘Mum!’

“Do you feel depressed?,” she asked in response, using a totally inappropriate sing-songy voice.

“Me?,”I asked, while wiping sick off my filthy t-shirt with yesterdays knickers. “No! Not at all! I can’t believe he is here! He is amazing! Isn’t he beautiful? I love him so much. I think my heart may fall out. It is just overwhelming!,”I cooed while staring at him in pretend awe.

She left happy enough, after clearly ignoring all the signs of postpartum depression, and the next time I saw her was seven months later, when she was knocking on my door because my doctor was concerned I may be a potential suicide risk.

Addison had been very poorly for a good while, and I was exhausted from fighting with doctor after doctor to get them to listen. I wasn’t suicidal. I was just knackered and pissy, but nevertheless she left happy that day too. She hustled in and hustled out. She didn’t want to help. One day I will write her a letter and tell her to get a job as a clown. She would be much better suited to a role with barely any responsibility, and her lipstick was always all over her face anyway, so it would make for an easy transition.

Addison is my son, and nothing will happen to him on my watch, I would profess to the Irish One during the endless days in hospital, all the while mistaking love for duty.

It was three months on from Allergy-Gate (as I now call it) when Addison was ten months old and still had a grisly bottom that I finally snapped.

“I bet you can’t remember life before him can you?,” my aunty Kathleen gushed at a family gathering. “He is just simply gorgeous isn’t he? Isn’t it an overwhelming love? Motherhood just changes you completely don’t you think?”

At the time, in fairness, Addison had just shat up his back for the third time in a three-hour period and I wasn’t in the mood for a gushing, drunk relative, no matter how well placed her intentions were.

“Actually Aunty Kathleen,” I said bluntly, “Yes, I do remember life before him; it was only ten months ago for Christ’s sake!! I had a baby, not a lobotomy!! I remember life before him, very well in fact! I used to get some sleep! And while we are on the subject, yes he is cute, and yes I do love him, but is it overwhelming? The only thing which is overwhelming to me currently is the need for a lie in!”

She stood glass in hand, staring at me, like a rabbit caught in headlights. (She has big teeth.)

“And as for motherhood changing me?,” I raged in her face, “the only thing different about me, is I am four stone heavier and my nails are constantly caked in crap!!” And with that I flounced out of the room in search of the changing bag. (And a big glass of wine.)

It felt such a relief to finally be honest! Although, thinking about it now, I should probably ring my Aunty Kathleen at some point and apologize.

My first Mother’s Day was possibly the darkest and most painful day I have experienced since having Addison.

“Don’t give me that sodding card!,” I screamed at the Irish One, holding my beautiful boy. “I am not a mother!!! I am just a babysitter!!! This is nothing to do with postnatal depression!! This is because I am a freak!! I don’t love my son enough!! I can remember what happened before he was born!! I don’t feel changed!!! I am still Lexy!! I am not a mum!! I am a letdown!! A failure!! I hate you, I hate myself and I hate Mother’s Day!!! Just piss off and leave me alone!!”

It was awful for everybody involved.

And then something began to happen, much like the phoenix rising from the ashes I slowly began to enjoy waking up at the crack of dawn and seeing my son’s face. Instead of it being a chore, I began to enjoy the moments we spent laughing and watching him grow.

Instead of waiting for the light to switch on at the end of the tunnel, I began to run towards it. It happened naturally. My self-hatred slowly began to thaw and in its place something else arrived.

Hope.

Last night, exactly four hours before we were due to leave for the airport on a holiday we have been looking forward to for months, Addison was sick. He was clinging on to me for dear life and burying his head in to my shoulder.

“We are going nowhere,” I told the Irish One instinctively. “There is no way I am putting my son through this journey when he is feeling this poorly. I am absolutely gutted, but he comes first.”

Strangely, and without even properly thinking about what I was doing, I put my feelings of disappointment over a missed trip to one side and got on with the job of cleaning him up and consoling him. He was broken, and it was my job to fix him, just like I had done all those times before.

And then, even stranger still, while walking in to the doctor’s office this morning thinking about how I should have been landing in Spain and hugging my dad, I pulled my son to me, inhaled the smell of his head and was hit by a bolt of lightning. (Not literally, but if you had seen my hair you may have thought this was the case.)

The only thing that mattered was Addison. I loved him more than life itself. The love I felt was … dare I say it? … overwhelming.

“Are you his mum?,” the locum asked while feeling his tummy for swelling.

“Yes,” I grinned back proudly, while kissing his forehead (Addison’s, not the locum’s). “Yes. I bloody well am.” And against my will I puffed my shoulders out.

My boy is beautiful! And he is all mine!

I walked back to the car, dancing on air, clutching my son’ssmall head to my bursting heart.

As it turned out, motherhood did change me. It made me a better person. It just took me a while longer to feel and recognize those feelings of attachment. Yes, I can still be a grumpy moose, but I am making progress.

I loved my son, I did. I just didn’t bond the instant I saw him. I loved him, but it wasn’t overwhelming from the first instant we met.

I see now, this doesn’t make me a freak. This is just my journey. Everybody is different.

It took me ayear to see what it is all about. It took me a year to recognize something I knew all along.

I forgive myself for that. (Except, based on the fact that I did always love him, I did always care for him and I did always ensure he was happy, safe and fed, I am not sure there is actually anything to forgive myself for … )

If I was to see a pregnant woman in the street now, I would be unlikely to approach her and jump in to motherhood 101, but if she struck up a conversation with me, my advice would probably be:

“Don’t pressure yourself into feeling anything more than you do in the moment. Everything you feel, at every step of the way, is unique to you and no matter what happens, the bonding will grow and emotionally, so will you. Everything will turn out alright … oh, and good luck … and join Twitter.”

“When you are a mother you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.” ~ Sophia Loren.

Now that I can finally agree with.

May 24, 2011 11:21 am Filed Under: Postpartum Depression

Warrior Moms of the Week 5/20/11

By Katherine Stone May 20, 2011

Dishing up some courage with a side of honesty for the Warrior Moms of the Week …

Mammywoo on PPD and everybody's fave song from Annie … The Sun'll Come Out Tooooomorowwwww!

Amanda writes a guest post on Scary Mommy about postpartum depression and all the reasons why she didn't want to call her doctor

Erika Krull of Psych Central shares her experience with postpartum depression as part of the APA's mental health blog day

Karen Kleiman from the Postpartum Stress Center on the small things you can do to help yourself feel better

Several people guest posting at Not Super Just Mom about their experiences with PPD, including Nicci and Yaeland Katie

May 20, 2011 9:14 am Filed Under: Postpartum Depression, Warrior Moms

Drop Kick Despair With Postpartum Progress

By Katherine Stone May 18, 2011

Several of you have asked me if you could publish public service ads on your own sites for Postpartum Progress Inc., and let me say how grateful I am that you asked. Hugs and love and sloppy kisses for all you do to spread the word.

So, with the very limited skill I have in design, I tried to create a few. You can use any that you like, and you can resize them if you need to, as long as they're still readable.

If you have a website or blog and are willing to support our nonprofit work by placing one of these badges there (say, in a sidebar, empty ad space or on a PPD resource page), see below for the designs and embed code. Anyone who clicks on the badges will be taken to our nonprofit website.

Do you like any of these? Hate? Have ideas yourself. Share!! Send me your own idea for a design or give me feedback on what's here!

Embed Code for 275 x 201 "drop kick despair" button:

Embed code for 275 x 180 "Broken Mind" Display Ad:

End of the Tunnel Display Ad (300 x 200)

Embed Code for 300 x 225 Heart in Storm Clouds Ad

Embed Code for 150 x 173 Warrior Mom Get Help Button

May 18, 2011 10:07 am Filed Under: Postpartum Progress News, Postpartum Progress the Non-Profit

Why Me? Struggling With Postpartum Depression

By Katherine Stone May 17, 2011

A dear friend of mine posed this question the other day in relation to her mental illness diagnosis: “Why me? I don’t deserve this.”

The only (pretty inadequate) response I could think of?: “Nobody deserves this.”

I get the “why me?” question a lot. I had that same question myself once. What the hell did I do to deserve this kind of mental torture? Why on earth do I deserve postpartum depression?

You hear the same thing from people who get cancer, and people who lose loved ones, and people who are robbed or attacked, and people who lose jobs and people who are abused or abandoned … all of us are asking the same question: “Why me?!!!!”

Is there a good answer? I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with philosophy and life being full of suffering no matter who you are and what type of suffering it is. Maybe it has something to do with the concept that we learn through suffering and become better people, so problems are really gifts we are given. Maybe it has nothing to do with anything at all, and these things are random occurrences.

I really. don’t. know. I don’t know why you.

I have to wonder, though, whether any answer to that question be acceptable to you. “Well, friend, you got postpartum/antenatal depression/anxiety/psychosis so that you could _________________.” What could someone put in that blank that would make it okay for you to be suffering the way you are at this moment? Probably nothing. I mean, yes it does help to know that you had risk factors, real ones that have been identified by medical research that show you didn’t just randomly get PPD for no reason, but even then some people have those risk factors and don’t get sick, which brings us 360 degrees back around to “Why me?”

Maybe if there’s no good answer to the question it would be better if we tried to stop asking it. That would mean acceptance, right? Acceptance is hard, but maybe it helps us to move on toward a resolution of some sort, or toward finding a way of living and taking care of ourselves that allows for some improvement, like asking for professional help. Maybe we need some forgiveness, too. We need to forgive ourselves and know that we didn’t do anything wrong to end up with postpartum depression. We’re just here now and we’re doing what we can to change things.

Clearly I don’t know what I’m talking about here. I’m not a philosopher, or a therapist, or an expert on hope and acceptance and forgiveness. I just don’t know why you. I’m here for you, though. That’s all I’ve got. I can sit with you and virtually hold hands, and do my best to help you get through it. You’re not alone.

May 17, 2011 10:26 am Filed Under: Causes