When I had Oliver, I assumed what I was feeling was normal. I didn't think twice about my short fuse, my empty heart, or lack of attachment I felt toward Ollie from the very beginning. I assumed it was natural and that people simply exaggerated the feeling they had when their baby was handed to them.
And then Ollie got sick and was admitted to the hospital. I thought I was being strong. I shoved down any feelings that came up while I saw them poke and prod my baby. I watched them do a spinal tap multiple times. I felt myself becoming more and more detached but I ignored it. I wanted to be the strong, unselfish new mom. I thought I was doing a good thing.
When the nurses kept asking me about nursing Ollie, I wanted them to just leave me alone. I already felt violated enough so to feel like I was being judged for pumping made it even worse. I would hide in the pumping room every three hours, feeling empty.
After we got back from the hospital, Jake would come home from work and ask me about my day. I didn't have anything to say because I hadn't felt anything all day so I didn't feel like I had anything to share. I pumped, washed the parts, fed the baby, burped the baby, changed the baby, put him down, tried to sleep, and then it would all start over.
I then started working from home. I said I was ready. That I felt good. The truth was I wasn't feeling anything and I hoped working would help me feel something again. I used to love working, maybe it will bring a spark back into my life. Instead it just made me feel anxious and overwhelmed. I would swallow those feelings and not share them with anyone.
"How are you?" "I'm great! Ollie is a great sleeper! We are so lucky!"
Jake and I would fight because I felt overwhelmed, but instead of working through it, I would back away and withdraw more. I thought I was simply becoming less sensitive, growing a thicker skin.
I would spend my spare time taking pictures of Ollie. Everyone said babies change all the time so be sure to take pictures every day. So I did. I would post them on Instagram to make sure people saw I was doing okay. I really just wanted to hear what people thought of my baby because I wasn't sure what I thought, so I needed affirmation.
"Are you sure you are doing okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine."
I wasn't fine, but I couldn't tell. My days were filled with sitting on the floor, pumping because my baby needed breast milk, playing candy crush and posting pictures of my baby.
I remember I went to go get my hair done but I was so absent. We barely spoke. I was truly a shell of a person. It is scary to think how I really thought nothing was wrong. It wasn't until I was visiting St. George with my sister and I heard myself laugh. I realized that was the first time I felt a spark of anything or laughed in months.
My mom asked me how I was doing. "I'm fine." "No, Katie, how are you really?" My sister asked me if I had depression. "I don't think so?" But then once I started talking I realized that yes, something was wrong and I don't know what or how to fix it. It couldn't be postpartum depression though, because I don't want to hurt Ollie. I take care of him. I think I love him but I've never had a baby so I don't know what it's supposed to feel like.
That night, it took all the courage I had to tell Jake that I thought something was wrong. He was so supportive but I was terrified.
The next few weeks were full of anger. I was mad that something was wrong. I was mad that so much was expected of me. I was mad at everyone around me for one thing or another.
In addition to the anger, I was so full of anxiety. One day I had convinced myself Jake had gotten in a car accident and died on his way to work because I couldn't get him on the phone. I was anxious about ruining Ollie's sleep schedule so I hated going anywhere. I had so much anxiety that going outside seemed impossible. It was a battle every day.
I tried to stay aware of what was going on. I tried to keep talking through things with Jake, although it was the scariest thing I've ever done. I voiced my deepest, darkest thoughts that I hadn't even realize were there. I was resentful, angry, and empty all at once.
I wrote things down in a word document that helped me address more thoughts and feelings, it helped them feel less abstract. I identified what could possibly be preventing me from being myself, from being happy and tried to change those things.
The first step I took was to stop pumping and feed Ollie formula.
The next was take out sugar to help me from turning to it as a way to feel something.
I talked very honestly with Jake about my emotional needs and expectations.
I made it a goal to make Ollie smile/laugh at least once a day.
Slowly, things started to get better. I started to build a bond with Ollie and I started to feel glimpses of love. It wasn't better overnight. I still have bad days. But slowly, through communication in my safe spaces, I have addressed the negative thoughts and have been able to build a relationship with Ollie. My anxiety was replaced with love and my need for outside validation was overshadowed by the fun I was having by simply playing with Ollie.
I have learned a lot in the last 8 months.
First, postpartum depression is different for everyone. Just because you didn't experience it like I did, or your best friend, doesn't mean you don't have it. Some people feel it right away, like I did, others experience as late as a year after having their baby.
Second, never invalidate someone else's feelings simply because you don't understand them.
Third, find a safe space where you can voice your darkest thoughts. A therapist, a friend, or a spouse. This will allow you to address and talk through the scary corners of your mind. This allows the space for healing.
Fourth, we will all work through this at a different speed and through different avenues. What worked for me may not work for you, but try to be honest with yourself to find what will.
And last, we can't do this alone. Countless women experience postpartum depression or anxiety, but many may not realize what is going on, preventing them from getting help. We need each other. There are experiences that are so unique to womanhood that we can't possibly go through this life without other women in our corner who are willing to share their experiences. I want you to know, I am in your corner. Always.