Dear New Mama:

Let me just start by saying, being a mom is hard work, right? I mean, I think you know this already, but we can both agree that you don’t REALLY know just HOW HARD it is until you’re thrown into the thick of it.  I know I didn’t know what “hard” meant until I was surviving on three hours of sleep a night and questioning/obsessing over every interaction with my daughter. Not to mention being spit up on. As a severe barf-a-phobe, that was a difficult transition. No lie.

I had a rough pregnancy, filled with gallbladder issues and pre-term dilation that ultimately led to bed rest. My labor wasn’t any easier, as I was induced at 38 weeks due to pre-eclampsia and had a failed epidural, which turned into four hours of un-medicated pushing. I was lucky enough to have a baby that didn’t really have colic or feeding issues, and was relieved to simply not be pregnant anymore. I stayed home from work for three months, and returned to work at 32 hours a week. We were making enough money with my reduced hours, had a beautiful daughter, and seemingly everything was perfect.

Except, I wasn’t happy. I started to resent being a working mom and having feelings that I wasn’t a good mother. I would go from feeling okay to lashing out at my husband followed by hiding in the bathroom crying, within a matter of minutes.  I didn’t know what was happening. I assumed my hormones were leveling out, that this was just a phase. I was also having what I now know to be anxiety attacks, but self-diagnosed them as stomach problems.  It wasn’t until I started having recurring thoughts of hurting Abby or myself that I totally broke down. I was so embarrassed, ashamed and scared. How could I admit ANY of this to anyone? How had I let things spiral out of control? I felt crazy.  I didn’t want anyone to take my daughter away from me. I was afraid I’d be locked in a mental hospital.  For a few weeks, I searched “postpartum depression” on the Internet and felt like that could be me … but it had been EIGHT MONTHS since I had given birth. I felt like something else must be wrong with me, and being the “fixer” I am I felt defeated (and ultimately more depressed) when I couldn’t make things better myself. I finally decided to contact my midwife, who suggested I see a therapist.

I was upset – I just wanted to stop feeling like I did. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to be back to normal. I thought I needed medicine to make everything go away. However, I agreed with my midwife and my first visit to my therapist was, as they say, the light bulb moment. One hour unloading all of my pent up feelings and emotions to someone who wouldn’t judge me, was (and continues to be) one of the defining moments of my life. To be told I was not alone, that these feelings were typical, that there was a name for what I was experiencing: postpartum anxiety (PPA) and depression (PPD), and possible postpartum PTSD. I was shocked. I thought, at most, it was a bad case of PPD. I didn’t even know there was a name for the other two.

Does any of this sound familiar? If it does, this is me looking you in the eyes and telling you it’s okay. You’re not alone. You’re not crazy for feeling the way you do. 

There’s help. 

Therapy helped me for a long time. I was taught that although I created a life, that my own life (and health) needs to be most important. The following year, despite making headway with my PPD, the anxiety got the best of me and I started medication. Last October, after a year on medication, I was able to discontinue the pills and was back to being me. Me, without severe depression or anxiety. I still had my moments, but learned so much from my therapist that I could conquer nearly any situation without needing medicinal backup.

Unfortunately, I suffered a miscarriage earlier this year. It was difficult and unimaginable, and I knew before I let my mental health get out of hand that I needed to pay my therapist a visit. She’s given me new tools to cope with this totally different form of PPD.  I am so thankful that she has taught me to be self-aware.

There’s always help, no matter your situation.

If you take away one bit of advice from this letter, let it be this. If you’re feeling at all like your thoughts or feelings are starting to get the best of you, reach out to someone you trust. If you are afraid to talk to a family member or friend, chat with your OB, midwife or family doctor, or do what I did on my midwife’s advice: find a therapist who specializes in postpartum issues. My therapist is the warm, cozy blanket I wrap myself in when I can’t shake the cold thoughts and anxieties.

You’ll get through this. No matter how deep and dark of a place you’ve been, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I hope knowing there are other moms that have been in your shoes will help to guide you a little closer to that light.

Please, take care of yourself. You’re important.

~ Jenna

Jenna lives in Minneapolis with her husband, 3 year old daughter and farting cat. You can find her rants and musings on life and motherhood at her blog, Blogged Bliss , or catch her in 140 characters or less@jennamariebee. You can also find her in the shoe section of any department store, talking herself into a pair of ballet flats she can’t afford.

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