Kim's Story
"I'm falling in
love with him"
That was the
thought that entered my mind as I gazed down into the face of my beautiful
son. My heart was exploding with love
inside, like the pictures you see of an atomic bomb - it was that big, that
powerful, that earthshaking. After all
the waiting, there we were, finally closer than ever.
"I'm falling in
love with him"
Did I really
think that? Was that my voice? My eyes welled up at the thought. I couldn't believe that after all the pain,
all the tears, and all the despair, a small sprig of hope was breaking through
the dry ground. You see, this wasn't my
newborn son, fresh from the womb and warming my arms. It didn't work that way for me. This was my ten month old son - and I was a
mom entrenched in a battle with postpartum depression.
The illness of
postpartum depression, or perinatal mood disorder, hit me like a truck... one I
didn't see coming until it blindsided me.
Before giving birth to my son I was a confident, joyful, strong,
self-sufficient woman. Within days of
bringing him home, I became the exact opposite.
I felt stupid, anxious, overwhelmed, and out of control. I was irritable, angry, and often cried as I
rocked my crying son. If I had been a
strong tower before, I was nothing more than a pile of rubble after. Thoughts entered my mind such as "I hate my
life," "I hate being a mom," and "I have
just ruined my life." People would come
up to me, gushing, "don't you just LOOOooove being a mom??" I would look at them blankly and tell them
no, I didn't. It was hard and
overwhelming, and as much as I loved my baby, I didn't love being a mom.
At the time, I
assumed every new mom felt that way.
"Baby Blues," right? I figured
everything would fall into place once I hit that 6 week mark when other moms
said things got easier. I held on for
that milestone, counting down the days, but it came and went and I was still a
mess. I began noticing that my other
mommy friends were bursting out of their baby blues and evolving into
beautiful, satisfied and fulfilled moms.
They genuinely loved being mommies!
They admitted it was difficult in those first weeks, but they never
thought they had made the biggest mistake of their lives. They never wanted to run someone over in the
Babies R Us parking lot. I was jealous. I was grieved. I was a failure.
When Noah was 5.5 months old I bought the book This Isn't What I Expected: Overcoming Postpartum
Depression. I learned that I did, in
fact, have this illness, and I needed help.
When I met with my OB/GYN and explained what was going on, he prescribed
anti-depressants. I hated the stigma
associated with these, but I knew that life could not go on as it had
been. My poor husband. My poor baby.
They had both been so patient and loving, but it was time for me to take
control of the situation.
The first
medication I took helped me feel better.
However, the dreams it gave me were like feature length films. I would wake up in the morning exhausted
because I never entered into deep sleep - it was as if I literally dreamt all
night long. Although it was helping me,
the lack of sleep became too difficult and I weaned off just before
Christmas. This was not great
timing. My memories of our Christmas
travels are a blur of anxiety, tears, and resentment. I could barely care for my son on a short
flight because I was too anxious. Things
that seem easy now were nearly impossible for me at that time. Meeting family for dinner, driving places in
the car, nursing him out and about - the stress caused by these things was
immobilizing.
When we returned
home I knew I needed to find someone to talk to. I searched online until I found a
psychiatrist who specialized in PPD. She
was 40 minutes away but I would have driven anywhere; I was desperate for someone to understand
what I was going through. Meeting with
her began my journey toward the light at the end of the tunnel. She encouraged me that I would get through the illness and feel like
myself again, and she was committed to finding a medicine that worked for
me.
We recently
celebrated Noah's 1st birthday. I had a
blast. So many people, plans, food - and
I rolled with it! I was a fantastic
hostess and even dressed up for the sailboat theme (with dear hubby in a
captain's hat of course). I remember
months ago having friends over after church to celebrate Noah's
dedication. At that time I recall
sitting up in his nursery crying my eyes out before people started to
arrive. What a change I have seen. Praise God!
Three things
have greatly impacted my road to recovery:
- Prayer:
Recognizing the lies (I was a failure, a
bad mom, I would never feel better) and speaking out Truth (I was a great mom,
God chose me, I would feel strong again);
- The support of
others who have been through PPD: These
women were invaluable - the compassion and understanding they were able to
provide were unparalleled;
- My friends and
family: Without the support of my husband and my best friend Jennifer, my
family life would have been a shambles and I don't know how I would have coped.
The day that I
fell in love with my son was an amazing gift.
It was a ray of hope, a settling of heart, and an answer to many
prayers. The journey leading up to it
and beyond has been filled with highs and lows, but by the grace of God I
continue to heal and grow.
And now I can
truthfully say, "Yes, I love being a mom."
