I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the differences between experiencing new motherhood with a postpartum mood disorder and without one, which seems to be my current state. (Knock on wood.) It’s like night and day. The joy I feel mothering my baby girl Madden serves to both free me from the bonds of my postpartum OCD experience, and make me angry and sad that I missed out on this joy with my beautiful boy Jackson.

While experiencing postpartum OCD, every minute, no, every second of every day was excruciating. I had such anxiety I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it through the next hour. I begged my husband to come home for lunch and to leave work early in the evenings. Simply because of a chemical imbalance in my brain, I was convinced I couldn’t handle being a mother. I felt I didn’t know how to keep Jack entertained at all times, as if an infant needs to be entertained at all times! I felt sure that if I put him down, or wasn’t showing him colors and making animal noises and working on making sure he could hold his head up and meet all his milestones properly that I would be failing him as a mother. I had a piece of paper on which I obsessively tracked every hour of the day, writing down when and how much he ate, how long we played and how long he napped. If I didn’t write it down, I felt like I wouldn’t be able to remember and wouldn’t know when to do what. Maybe it gave me some false sense of control …

I loved my son so deeply at that time, just as I surely do now, but there was no joy because I was too busy being scared to death of myself. All of the sudden I had no idea who I was. Who was this person who constantly kept wondering what it would be like if I drowned my son, or smothered him or dropped him? Who was this person who felt like she was walking around inside a strange bubble, watching the world go by but not able to connect or communicate with it? I even remember freaking out over turns of phrase that normally wouldn’t make me think twice. I would casually say to my husband "he’s dead asleep" and almost immediately nearly have a heart attack for saying it that way, as though that meant something dark and terrible was building in my subconscious that could at any moment rise to the surface.

I knew I had a horrible experience, but I don’t think I knew exactly how horrible until now. Now I have a baby again, a beautiful girl that I also love deeply, and I’m happy and free. I write absolutely nothing down, because there’s no need. I trust myself that I’ll know what to do when it’s time to do it, whether napping or feeding or playing. And as for playing, I just don’t have an agenda. We just hang out. Can you imagine?! This time I’m okay with silence, with no plan in place, with no activity to do, without anyone else around. I can just sit and look at her delicate face and an hour might pass. I wish so much that my body would have let me have that same feeling with Jackson when he was so small. I was so ill that I couldn’t experience the beauty of a newborn. Now I look at my baby and think how fleeting infancy is and how sad I’ll be when it’s over and I can’t hold her all bundled up against my chest.

I’m grateful we can get better and experience the wonder of our children. For those of you experiencing a postpartum mood disorder right now, you CAN get better and your child will love you no less deeply than any other child loves their mother. How do I know? My husband and Jack went for a nighttime walk on the beach during our vacation a few weeks ago. They laid down on the sand so they could look at the stars. My husband then asked Jack if he’d ever seen anything so beautiful. Jack answered, "My mom."

Happy Mother’s Day.