You're reading this in anticipation, sitting on edge wondering what I'm about to confess to!
It's nothing glamorous or torrid, or anything of the sort. Fact is, its something that a lot of women deal with, and its the second time that I have.
I have PPD, or for people who aren't familiar; PostPartum Depression.
It's a depression that happens after having a baby. I'm told it can happen up to any time after delivering a baby. It happened to me when Georgia was 6 months old, and this time around the same time with Delilah.
Don't worry, if you've read the symptoms and are worried about me hurting myself or the baby -- its not like that. PPD covers a really broad range of feelings and emotions. For me its anxiety and anger, and overall feeling of mopeyness.
I knew something was wrong when the smallest, minute things would make me mad. And not just any kind of mad -- like a crazy "Hulk Smash " mad. Seriously. I felt bad for my kids and husband because the smallest things would set me off. That wasn't me. It was usually the result of anxiety building up inside of me.
When you come home from the hospital, PPD is monitored by paperwork you have to fill out when you visit your OB and when you take your infant to the Pediatrician. ( mine is, at least ) There are questions on this questionaire asking about how well you're dealing with things, if you're so sad you cry a lot, if you have trouble sleeping because you are depressed. Well some of the questions are stupid. Things are getting on top of me? Really? I have three children now and I have to clean up after them, myself and my husband. Things may occasionally get on top of me. Yes. Thanks for reminding me that I have laundry to do when I get home.
But seriously. I was never really honest when it came to those things. I never felt depressed, or sad or like hurting anyone or myself. I just felt like I was always in a state of being wound up tighter than a spring, waiting to pounce at any time. And when I did - oh boy. Do NOT be in the same room as me. It was terrible.
So, upon admitting to myself ( really hard ) that I was not getting better and the fact that I was striking fear into the hearts of those I loved, I took myself to the Dr and told her that I felt as though I had PPD.
So, I have PPD. Now what? I am getting better. I am coping quite well and do not "hulk smash" things as much anymore. I can ask for help if I need it and the overwhelming feeling of having too much to do is subsiding. I am taking some medication to help with the anxiety, but I like to regulate that on myself because I feel as though if I just ask for help when I need it and talk through what angers me, that I can pull myself out of this state I am in. Some days I don't feel like that. Some days I want to lie in bed all day long. To be truthful, some days I don't clean a thing in the house and the kids and I just watch Disney Princess movies all day. I can do better than that, though... and I will. Eventually. Let's take it one day at a time.
Don't feel bad. Because I only sometimes have pity parties for myself. I will be okay. Admitting that I wasn't right was the hardest thing for myself because I'm not one to ask for help. Asking for help was hard for me. I'm not sure why. But this time I recognized what was wrong in myself and immediately took myself to the Dr. I also asked my husband for help with things and told him I was overwhelmed. Even though he was also overwhelmed with a lot of things, he stepped into his husband and father role and it helping me quite well.
I can't imagine that there's never a time that any mom doesn't feel like she needs to lock herself in the bathroom for couple of minutes and scream into a pillow. Or is that just me? No. I have heard from other moms that they sometimes need to take a minute to regroup as well.
So, if for some reason lately you think I've been hermit-ish and lingering around my home a lot and being anti-social. Well, I have been. It's not anyone's fault. I am just dealing with things as I see fit. And taking children out by myself sometimes springs unwanted anxiety attacks. I'm not sorry. But if I have excused myself from an event or anything lately, please don't take it personally.
I actually feel better having admitted these things. For anyone else who is dealing with it and feels like they want to talk about it. Send me a message/email. Drop me a line/whatever. I heard that talking to other people with it makes things better. I actually messaged a friend recently about it and she told me the things that she was going through when she had PPD. It made me feel like I was normal, because she was feeling the same things as I was. >Phew, I'm not a Loony Toon After all! <
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