Only a woman who has been through postpartum depression can truly, deeply understand. It’s that way with most things, isn’t it?
I can certainly empathize and try to imagine what it is like to have cancer, but I haven’t gone through it and cannot put myself squarely in that place. That’s why we postpartum depression survivors need each other so, and why so many of us dedicate a portion of our lives to helping other women who will as surely as death and taxes experience the same thing.
No offense to the doctors and the husbands and the friends who really care and try to support us through postpartum depression, but no one else gets it like a woman who has gone through it. And to tell the truth, we can see deep down the faint glint in so many eyes that says, “Is this what’s really going on?” Yep. We see it. We may be mentally ill but we’re not stupid. As much as you try to hide it we can see what you’re thinking — even if you yourself want to believe us and try to tamp down your thoughts. You’re thinking:
- Is she just weak and over-emotional?
- Is she just selfish? Does she just regret losing her wild and carefree life to the sleepless nights and diaper changes and constant responsibilities of caring for a child?
- Is she just exaggerating to get attention? Can it really be that bad?
- Is it even possible for someone to have thoughts beyond their control? What kind of mother thinks of drowning or suffocating her child? I mean, I’ve had stress, but I’ve certainly never thought of anything like that.
- She could just get over it if she really wanted to.
- What kind of person is she, really?
We’re suffering from an illness that cannot be seen. We don’t have a fever, swelling, vomiting or diarrhea. No rash, cramping or stiffness. No open wounds that will not heal — at least not the kind you can see with the naked eye — so many wonder if we’re really sick at all.
And guess what? So do we. We wonder whether we’re really just defective people who are unworthy of being mothers. We understand the glint of judgment precisely because we’ve had it ourselves. Before we got sick, we looked at others and thought “I would never think that,” “I would never do that,” and “I would never be like that.” Until we did and until we were, and now we don’t have that glint anymore.
We can see what you’re thinking, and we understand. We get it. But it still hurts. A lot.
Photo credit: © denevt – Fotolia
Thank you for writing this. You hit the nail on the head. The look, the wonder, the hurt. Again, it's healing to know we're not alone. I posted this on http://www.lifeafterbaby.wordpress.com as I thought it would be so helpful and reassuring to other moms as well.
This was a wonderful and very accurate article that describes what we survivors all know to be true. I have printed the article for distribution amongst my perinatal patients. Seeing this in print will help validate what they may have yet to express. Thank you!
I have to say that was a wonderful article. I even cut and paste it and sent it to a friend of mine who's wife is suffering and struggling terribly with PPD. I can hear her cries for help, but he does not get it. I sent it to him to make him see. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!
this is a great post. Even the most loving spouse, friend or partner cannot feel what we are feeling. I remember how very alone I felt and how scary that was. Finding others who have been there is like the deepest breath of relief.
I think, although I've had help and am working with a therapist even now, five months postpartum, my husband stlil thinks these things. Even though we KNOW, having done this once before. Even still, even yesterday, I know he thinks these things.
THe hard days are hard. I love that other people understand that.
I have not suffered PPD myself, but what I do know since becoming a mother is that the depths of feeling, whether joyous or despondent, are not something we can ever truly control. I sincerely hope I've never had more than a "Wish I could take away your pain" glint in my eye.
Yep. Exactly. I remember my sister saying "every mom has guilt…. every mom feels overwhelmed…oh every mom has hard days" She didn't get it AT ALL. Then something interesting happened. She went out and bought "This isn't What I Expected" – and my mom bought "Down Came the Rain"… And I saw that they actually did deeply want to understand this mysterious illness that had broken their loved one into bits. Reading those books helped them to understand, and showed ME that they wanted to understand – which was healing in itself.
how can we the partners,husbands help?
I didn't know I had PPD. "Just" some major depression, and horrid thoughts I learned much, much later were called intrusive thoughts.
Some of how my behavior was–was pretty bizarre. I think, at times, it would be in some ways harder to be the loving family member standing by, often invisibly, wringing their hands with helplessness.
I think it was better being in my "crazy" shoes (at least kind of knowing what I was thinking) than being the one standing on the outside, trying to look in, trying to help, trying to understand.
Both places are so hard. Both places.
I know this is wicked old, but it caught my eye just now on your "personal favorites list." This is EXACTLY how I feel. You read my diary (pretending I have the energy to write in one) and then wrote this post. I have no friends in the "real" world that have suffered PPD. I have friends from HS and college on FB to talk to, but mostly I have you and BA and Alexis and the other great Warrior Moms that you have guest post or make reference to that I have become followers of. Thank you for putting words to the thoughts in my head. I will probably never meet you in person, but I will hold you in the the highest regard for the rest of my life. Daily, I thank God for you and your work, Katherine.