Warrior Moms. Survivors. Surviving. Fighting Back.
I use those words for a reason. I created the Warrior Mom logo because I was so sick and tired of the few portrayals of women with postpartum depression, or any other perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, as "less than". Like we are women with something missing. Women who can't keep it together. Women who just aren't as strong as the rest of the group.
That pissed me off.
So I decided, with Postpartum Progress, to take a different approach. I wanted people to see women with postpartum depression as people who have had an illness and who have recovered. The illness isn't who we are. It's not even a large part of who we are, though it is powerful enough to seemingly take over everything for a while.
I also wanted to find a different way of looking at what I went through for my own benefit, because it helped me. I could look back on my experience with postpartum OCD as a black hole or I could look at it as a period of growth and strength. It allowed me to reframe what happened, or at least how I viewed what happened. The Warrior Mom helped me as much or more as it has helped any other person who has ever read this blog.
However.
I read a piece today from Chemo Babe, where she writes beautifully about cancer and the people who have made it through and the people who haven't. She wants to make it clear that the people who haven't survived cancer have no less character than the people who have. Her words made me stop and think.
When I talk about Warrior Moms, I want to make sure you know that I do so because I want you to feel empowered, instead of small. I want you to feel you can fight back, instead of surrendering. I don't want you to feel defective, or lacking in character or mothering skills or anything else for that matter. Because I know how easy it is to feel those ways, having been there myself.
I don't, however, mean to imply that the women who didn't make it were lacking in some way. It crushes me when I read about a new mother's suicide or infanticide, or when I read about a woman who has lost her family because of perinatal mood and anxiety disorders. I often wonder what the details were. I want answers. Was she just so good at hiding it because she believed no one should ever know? Was she in so much pain that she felt this was the best or only solution? Was she suffering from delusions that led her to fully believe ending her or someone else's live was the right answer? Did she receive poor or uninformed treatment from the medical community, or was her treatment ineffective? Was she limited in her ability to seek or receive help because of geography or finances or health insurance or some other reason? Is there any answer to this at all, or is there, as is true in some cases, no why to be had?
The one thing I don't ask is whether she was tough enough or good enough or strong enough.
Some people recover and some people don't.
I wish everyone did.
I hope that when I write here of triumph and survival and strength, you'll know what I mean. And what I don't.
Yes, I think we all do know what you do mean, and don't mean, when you write about warriors and survivors. But I still thank you for taking this pause to discuss those who do not triumph over these illnesses. I feel I carry them, those whose names I know or don't know, with me on this path, and make me more determined than ever to make things better.
Thank you for writing this Katherine. Your blog has given me such hope. Even now 2 years out, I am just now seeing a glimmer of hope of becoming a warrior mom..there have been times I felt I didn't know if I belonged here..thank you for clarifying. You are a huge inspiration to me and so many others. I also subscribe to your daily hope messages..they also have been a tremendous help.. all I can say..is.. thank you. <3
Thank you so much for putting these thoughts together for us. My baby is now 4, but I carry the guilt of PPD with me everyday. It wasn't until I started reading your blogs that I was able to allow myself to feel like a Warrior Mom, and now I KNOW that I am!
God bless those who were unable to get the help they needed… and thank God that I was!
I have never thought that your blog, or the term "warrior mothers" diminished the struggles or the loss of those who didn't make it. You simply don't hear about PMD's in the mainstream media unless there's a suicide or, more often, infanticide. I think you are generally balanced and sensitive in your approach to these issues.
When I hear those stories now that I've been somewhere close to where those women were, I get angry. They were done a disservice due to lack of education or knowledge or proper treatment, I do not see it as a personal failing on there part. The best thing we can do is to get the information that's out there into as many hands and heads and hearts as possible — survival IS possible, this crap DOESN'T last forever, you DON'T deserve this.
My babies (twins) are just over a year old and, as I look back on my experience of PPD and PPA and then the post-trauma effects of having those illnesses, I acknowledge that I was, in fact, unable to "keep it together". Terrifying, to be sure, but not a reason for shame (I realize now, that is).
For me, the experience was both a black hole and an incredible growing and learning experience, not one or the other. With the help of medication and therapy, I fought my way through, and it was indeed a fight. I am now a healthier and happier person than I was before I was pregnant and it is because of my experience with the hellish experience of my illness and the tiny, excruciating steps I took to find my way out, as well as the gut-wrenching endurance during the stretches of time when I found myself unable to take any steps at all.
I applaud your envisioning of the Warrior Mom and your sharing it with all of us. I just want to add that I don't think that a lack of strength or resilience make anyone "less than". We simply are what we are and are all doing the best we can. Falling apart the way I did following the birth of my babies and being unable to care for them for a time to the point that I briefly thought I might have to give them up for adoption to ensure their well-being, was the darkest, most terrifying experience of my life. It terrifies me to look back and acknowledge how truly vulnerable and helpless I felt, how much crushing emotional pain I was experiencing and how truly unable I was to function, but only in recognizing and accepting that I really did "lose it" have I been able to heal and move forward.
I personally don't believe that "tough enough" or "strong enough" have any relation to "good enough". We were born good enough and mental illness can not change that. It may rob us of our toughness and strength for a time, or it may hand us a degree of pain that even the toughest, strongest person would struggle against, but we need to know that the struggle is a reflection of the cards we've been dealt and *not* a reflection of who we are.
Our culture seems to honor achievement and competence and independent resilience. It shames people who "can't keep it together" because it is really scary for anyone to contemplate that such a thing can happen to any of us. I'm glad that I have come to understand that losing my mojo for a while was nothing to be ashamed of. I only wish I had known back when I was still in the darkness or trekking uphill through the dim light of early recovery that it wasn't my fault, so I would have been able to seek and accept more help from the people around me. It is only just recently that I have found myself able to talk about my illness more openly and acknowledge how much help I need in parenting my children, but I needed people's support and help a long time ago!
As it is, I'm really glad I made it out alive and now find myself in a better world than than the one I knew even before I experienced PPD. I have worked really hard and come a long, long way in difficult circumstances, so I guess I am a Warrior Mom, but I am also the mom who felt so wounded that she just couldn't do anything for a while, and I am okay with that. From your post, it sounds like you're trying to communicate that you're okay with that too. I'm so glad I made it and say a little prayer of peace for those who didn't and the people who loved them.
I think that the minute a mom wakes up in the morning in the face of PPD, she's a warrior…whether she triumphs or not. We are all fighting tooth and nail. For those of us who succumb to this monster, it doesn't mean that they were any far less than a warrior than a woman who keeps on fighting…just like cancer…if a woman succumbs to her illness is she any less of a fighter than someone who beat it? No. She's not.
We all have worth in this battle which makes us all warriors.
absolutely. your heart is in the right place – you have given so many of us HOPE!
it's a delicate balance isn't it? finding the right metaphor that empowers us and helps us face our challenges without diminishing others who have not made it, whether emotionally or physically.
i am honored that my blog spoke to you. we share a goal of wanting to break silences about women's struggles, to let people know that they are not alone, and that there are others who know what they are going through. thanks for including me in the conversation.
Bravo, PrivateMomma. Beautiful. And thanks to Katherine for writing this, too. You have put words to a feeling that has been lurking in me for a very long time. Because I was NOT that strong. There were days I could not and would not "fight." I gave up over and over again, and luckily had a husband and parents who simply would not let me drown.
I did not survive this disease because of the strength of my character. In fact, I don't know why I was lucky enough to recover and find happiness while others were not. It's certainly not because I fought harder or prayed harder or deserved it more. It's not fair that some women don't make it through. I, too, hold them in my heart.
While the "Warrior" image has never done much for me, I know it is a help to others. I have always felt this site has offered excellent support and a source of hope–so keep on keepin' on.
I feel the same way! Like I carry them with me. Beautifully put.
Thank you Regina! Of course you belong here. I really hope the readers will tell me if I do or say something that doesn't feel inclusive, because that is SO important to me.
– Katherine
So glad to hear this Rachel. It's hard not to carry the guilt. I know that. But I'm glad you realize it's not your fault and you got the help you needed!