I had the thrill and honor recently to attend the recent Special Legislative Commission on PPD meeting with Representative Ellen Story this month. My new friend (and fierce advocate and mental health professional) Mara Acel-Green extended an invitation to the open meeting – and upon walking in, I was floored by the feeling that Postpartum Progress belonged in the room.
The Commission invited Deborah Wachenheim to speak about her sister Cindy, whose story was featured in The New York Times earlier this year. Listening to Deb speak about the events leading up to her sister’s postpartum psychosis and death, I was struck by the genuine interest and concern of the room. This was a meeting full of top tier mental health and birth professionals, legislators, and non-profit leaders. Their heartfelt appreciation for Deb’s willingness to share something so personal (and freshly raw) and thoughtful questions gave me hope that the meeting was not just government lip service.
As the meeting progressed, organizations checked in with progress reports, included MCPAP for Moms, the Department of Public Health and the Community Health Center pilot programs. Throughout each of their discussions, time and time again, the question that kept resurfacing was “How do we make sure screened mothers are being supported after their diagnosis?”
What these doctors are really concerned about is How do we get moms to follow through with their diagnosis and treatment? The Commission has been focused up until this point primarily on training primary care physicians, pediatricians, and birth care workers on screening for postpartum mood and anxiety disorders. But as any survivor can tell you, screening and diagnosis (though absolutely essential) are only the first of many hurdles on the path to wellness. As suggestions were shared, I noticed that their solutions all focused on actionable items for healthcare workers. And it seemed to me they were missing a piece of the puzzle.
Postpartum Progress doesn’t just “drop kick despair.” It kicks stigma in the teeth.
After my own diagnosis, 5 months postpartum, I continued to struggle for almost 6 months with treatment compliance. It wasn’t that I refused treatment, but instead that I was still struggling with so much shame that I just couldn’t comply. Depression and anxiety rob a person of their sense of truth and rationality. Psychosis steals reality itself. How anyone could expect me to take responsibility for my own mental health treatment in 2009 still leaves me in disbelief.
I attended therapy regularly but fought against taking medications. And though I knew the right answers to my therapist’s questions and believed them on some level, deep down I still carried such stigma about mental illness that I couldn’t separate myself from my disorders. Not until I found Postpartum Progress.
Reading stories of other mothers just like me, I found my own courage reflected back to me. Here were women who had battled the same terrible thoughts, who had raged at their babies, and who had felt worthless in their roles as mothers – and I looked up to every. single. one. Postpartum Progress doesn’t just “drop kick despair.” It kicks stigma in the teeth.
This is why I credit Postpartum Progress and #PPDCHAT with saving my life. Not because Katherine Stone or Lauren Hale treated my anxiety and depression, but because they showed me I was worth saving – that I could and would get better.
This is what legislators, healthcare professionals, and non-profit organizations need to know: the key to getting mothers to follow through with treatment? Is to disintegrate the stigma. No one does that better than the Warrior Moms.
I’ll be meeting with the Commission staff and other Massachusetts organizations in the coming months to make sure Postpartum Progress is a part of the important conversations they are having about treating and supporting mothers during and after pregnancy – because the patient community? Is that final piece of the puzzle.
Author’s Note: Postpartum Progress recently collected survey data from its Warrior Mom community and FaceBook fan page. 75% of respondents indicated that Postpartum Progress increased their likelihood to seek professional help for their condition. You can read the entire report HERE.
photo credit: Susan Petcher
It’s an essential piece of the puzzle. Health care workers screening and treatment practices must be up to snuff but if women and families don’t buy into treatment, feel supported and feel like they’re not alone it will never work. Kicking the shame and stigma to the curb cannot be more important. Thank you for going to this session Susan and for your active advocacy work.
Yaaayy xx great piece x
It seems the only time legislators, “experts,” people within the postpartum mental health community, or ANYONE (for that matter) seems to care is when a mother kills herself and/or her child. Deborah Wachenheim was invited to speak about her sister. Wouldn’t it be revolutionary for an actual survivor of such a catastrophe to speak, instead? To give a first-hand account? But there aren’t many of us – we’re either dead, indefinitely incarcerated (if our children were involved), and/or indefinitely institutionalized. Then there are the few that through some leniency, were able to re-surface into general population, post-release.
Everyone wants to blame the health professionals for not enough or dismissed screenings. And there is validated truth behind that consensus. But equally, there’s truth on the stigma even within the support system itself (i.e, Postpartum Progress and Postpartum Support International). Certainly, when I reached out years later, I was met with apathy, an automated email reply, minimal support or even acknowledgement that I shared my experience, and no support. So, if we happen to be the unfortunate few who have survived this, there’s no one and nowhere to turn for support. It’s a silent message that even with recovery, you’re forever damaged (“and we won’t and cannot support this…so if you happen to attempt harm on yourself again later in life, sorry”). Well, no one here has ever said that, verbatim, or close, but the message is clear in the indifferent response.