The truth about postpartum depression and how it doesn’t end a year after birth.
I had a very traumatic pregnancy. I took forever to dilate, ended up having a C-section, the anesthesia wore off while I was being stitched and I couldn’t hug my baby because we both had a fever. I was defeated. Somehow, that was the easiest part. Postpartum depression kicked my ass. It didn’t last a year, it lasted three. I called my doctor at the 8 week mark and told him I was really sad and he told me “it’s too late for it to be postpartum depression, I can’t help you. Just try to be happy.” Whatever. So here I was on a mission to beat PPD. It was fucking me up though. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know how to properly connect with my son. I couldn’t love this new version of me. I became so depressed that I felt the only way out of that was to die. It sounds so dramatic but seriously, I did not see any way out of that pain. I had lost all the weight pretty quickly but then, I gained it all back. I lost all my friends cause naturally, nobody really wants to be your friend anymore when you have responsibilities and shit. We moved to Florida and I thought sunshine would make it better. It didn’t. It made it worse.
Look, I love my son and if you need a disclaimer. This is it. Christopher is my best friend in the whole wide world. I am who I am now, because he’s here. It’s not like a “ahhhh I hate having kids post” Chris is wavy. This is to talk about how postpartum depression lasts way beyond the timeline the doctors tell you. You grow angry, not just with your child but with everything. The leaves blowing too hard, the rain pouring too much, the TV being too loud. Everything makes you angry and you cant figure out why. You can’t figure out why after giving birth to the most beautiful thing you ever created, you can be angry. How you can feel depression after holding the most innocent human being in the world. How nobody cares about you once you have your baby.
I was on auto-pilot. Wake up. Feed child. Entertain child. Indulge in nap time. Wake up again. Feed again. Keep the kid alive, that’s it. That is your only task. That is the only thing my PPD allowed me to do. It gave me just enough energy to have a dance party once a day. “But Rossy you were depressed how were you able to dance?” Well, I knew how sad I was and how I didn’t have plans to last long so I planned that his memories of me should be happy ones.
But if I’m honest, my memories of him, are a blur. If it wasn’t for the pictures and videos, I fear I wouldn’t ever have a clear picture of what Chris was like growing up. I was in so much pain. I loved him with all I had but I was suffering so bad. I was fighting to survive while also having to wake up everyday and be a mom. I had help, my husband was there, but because I was a stay at home mom and he worked 2 jobs, it was me and Chris most of the time. I had some good days, but for the most part I was a sad, mom raising a happy baby. He is the perfect kid. He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s kind, he’s empathetic, he is the silliest goose we know. I didn’t ruin him.
When he was 3, I moved to Charlotte. I asked my mom to take him for 3 months and I left Florida. I needed to save my life, for him. I moved and healed. (If you’re wondering where my fiance was at that time, he stayed in Florida, finishing our lease and working on his transfer, that’s why I sent Chris with my mom, nosy LOL) I started working, I started drinking water, I started healing. The only way for me to be a good mother to him was to fix myself, to heal the PPD and get better. Find happiness again, find myself again, only then would I be able to be the best mom to the best kid.
He’s in kindergarten now and his mom is okay. We still have dance parties, but for fun now, not for those memories. We play, we smile. I have a work life balance that allows me to be there for all his special moments in school. I have the best team with my husband and we are raising the best kid. We moved close to my parents and his cousins and he gets to grow up around the most beautiful village. I get to enjoy these moments, for real this time. But it messes with me sometimes. The lack of help women receive that cause us to be in fight or flight, that put us on auto pilot. The lack of help that forces us to miss so many little moments of their lives because we are just trying to survive. The moment when they no longer say the words in a silly way, the moment when they’ve slept in your room for the last time and are now in their big boy bed. The day where you walk him into his kindergarten class and he waves bye and tells you to “get away”. That’s it, that’s the moment you are reminded that your fight was worth it, but it shouldn’t have been a fight. You deserved help. You didn’t deserve to be dismissed.
I was a good mother, but it shouldn’t have been so hard. There were no resources for PPD. Once you give birth, nobody cares about you. Make sure the baby is okay. Make sure the baby gets everything, but mama isn’t important anymore. You have to fight that battle on your own, while also taking care of a baby. So many mothers have done such horrid things to their children at the hands of PPD or PPP (postpartum psychosis). So many mothers suffer in silence because they have to go back to work, because they have to figure it out and there is just no time because you have a baby to take care of. The village is for the baby not for you. Nobody asks if you’re okay. If you are. How you’re feeling. Yes, you’re an adult and that’s a baby, so naturally they need more, but that doesn’t mean you need less. Your life changed. Your life is new too. You are a Mother now. It’s a new role. You’ve never done this before, well if it’s your first. You aren’t alone.There is no time limit to how long you should have postpartum depression. There is no rush to your healing and evolving. Give yourself grace. Had I done that sooner maybe there would have been moments that I didn’t have to rely on pictures to remind me of them.
We are best friends, Chris and I. He is my son, but he is also the coolest person I know. He saved me in ways I will never tell him.I am who I am now because I had to fight extra hard to be able to stick around to see the best kid in the world grow up. I haven’t missed a moment since. I still take pictures because naturally I am a parent and that’s just what we do.
Reach out for help mom, ask for help. There is help out there, you just gotta find it (cause nobody really cares bout mommas) Fight for yourself because you need to enjoy this new stage in your life. You deserve to enjoy all the feelings of motherhood not just pain. There’s joy in it too, so much joy. They will only be little for so long. Soon they’ll grow up and be too cool to hang out with you.Every snuggle, every hug, every sticky kiss after eating a shiton of Doritos, I get to enjoy those because I healed. I don’t know why I ever thought that ending it would have been a better life for my son than him having his mom with him.
988 – suicide hotline
1-800-944-4773 – postpartum support international
SAMHSA.GOV- substance abuse and mental health services administration
A Collection of Wavy Essays 