The amount of times I have opened a blank untitled document to write this is countless. I have typed, deleted, cried, typed, deleted, wrote notes on my phone of random things that wake me up in the middle of the night hoping it would help me get through this. I have wrote prompt after prompt and still this subject is hard to write about...let alone talk about. I sit here with my son on my lap thankful that he cant read yet because I am not ready to share with him these dark times. This is not something I thought I would ever share, or even have the courage to share. I haven't spoke with many people on this, and if I have I’ve never gone into detail about it. We all know about the looming “Postpartum depression” that some/many moms get. We know that sometimes it’s the occasional baby blues and it’s just some type of feeling you cant shake and aren't sure why you are feeling those things. Sometimes it goes much deeper. Sometimes it goes so deep that others have to help you pull yourself out of it. Sometimes people don’t come back from it, which results in someone loosing their life. I am thankful I spoke up when I did.
When I had my son it was such a breeze (so to say). Once we got home our breast feeding journey started; which was hard and often times; felt impossible. But we made it a year and I was so proud of myself. Motherhood was amazing. Baylor wasn't the easiest baby. He would cry...scream randomly for about an hour every night for reasons I never figured out. We co-slept and he stayed “on the boob” all day. We watched movies, hung out, played, bonded, and just figured out this new life that we lived in everyday. It was hard but it was amazing. I didn't have any postpartum, or baby blues. I felt nothing but happiness and pure joy. It was your typical “I created this perfect little human and I could stare at his face all day” type of feeling. Like I said, a breeze.
When I had my girls, things were much different. It took about 2 months to get them actually home with us. They stayed in the NICU much longer than Baylor and that was difficult. But once we got home everything just seemed great. My family was ALL together. I was so happy and was ready to start life as a mom of three. Shortly after we got into a rhythm I started to notice that I was just not happy and just felt like I wasn’t feeling that bond like you’re supposed to. Maybe I was just overwhelmed with three kids and just felt too much pressure to upkeep the house and take care of the kids, and oh yeah take care of myself. It just felt like a lot. It felt like my job was never done. That I would get one thing completed and then have to do another and then another and another. But it just kept getting worse. Days kept getting darker, thoughts started to get darker. I just felt empty. But how? How can I feel empty and how can I not be happy with three literal miracles sitting right in front of me. How can I look at my children's faces and not feel joy? I have no clue. I don't have the answers, but it happens. It’s not a good feeling. My days got so dark that I contemplated death at times. I thought of a couple ways that would be best. I thought maybe once my husband gets home I would just slip into the bathroom and take too many pills. Or maybe I’d ask to run to the store and run off the road. Looking at me from the outside you would never know those things were running through my head. People would ask how is it going? And I would say “good, taking it day by day.” I couldn’t just say, “Awful...I’m struggling.” I felt like people would look at me like I’m crazy, or would think little of me and tell me I’m a bad mom. Mostly the reason why I didn’t say anything. I already said those things to myself. You are probably so taken back right now that you are in disbelief. Trust me, I didn’t want to have those thoughts. But I didn’t ask for help because I was embarrassed. You see it wasn't that my husband didn't treat me good, or that my family didn't show me love, or my kids weren't enough to live for...it was just I felt the best option was to take my own life. I felt so overwhelmed and felt like the only way out of the chaos was to take myself away from it. I just thought that Dillon wouldn't have to deal with my depression if I were gone, or my kids wouldn't have to see their mom struggle if I were gone. It just seemed like the best option and life would just be so much better if I weren’t in it. But I was so wrong. If I left then Dillon would have to do life by himself, the kids would grow up without their mother, and my parents would have to bury a child. How selfish. I was just about to let this awful disease win. But that's not who I am. I don’t let life beat me down, I fight against the odds. I want people to know that when someone is dealing with depression and wants to kill themselves it is not a result of you not loving them enough or not doing enough. There isn’t anything you could have done better or more of that would’ve changed the situation. When someone gets to that point the help that you can give them is out of your ability. They have to want to get help.
Postpartum rage is a serious thing that doesn’t often get talked about. Carolyn Wagner does a great job of explaining PPR.
“ Women are more informed than ever about what to be on the lookout for after baby arrives: sadness that lasts beyond the first two weeks, difficulty sleeping when baby is sleeping, intrusive thoughts, excessive crying and trouble bonding with baby, just to name a few symptoms of postpartum depression and anxiety. But there is one symptom that still receives very little attention: postpartum rage.
What on earth am I talking about when I say “postpartum rage”? I’m talking about overwhelming anger. Anger that is so intense it feels like it shouldn’t even be called just “anger.” The kind that sneaks up on you and before you know it, you are exploding. It may be prompted by a seemingly minor annoyance—a load of dishes that your partner forgot to start the night before, leaving you without a clean coffee mug in the morning, or a red light when you’re trying to get home with a crying baby in the backseat. Or it may bubble up out of nowhere—your mom calls to ask how your day is going and suddenly you’re screaming about the awful night before and your certainty that tonight will be even worse.”
A lot of the time all it takes is just talking to someone to “fix” it. Just letting your family or your spouse know “hey, I’m in a dark place. I don’t exactly know why, but I just need your help to keep check on me and to just listen to me.” I myself have been through this. I distinctly remember one night asking my husband “Will you pray for me? I’m not okay. I think somethings wrong. I don’t know if I need to get help or what, but I need you to pray for me.” Ive dealt with depression before so it sort of felt like that but much darker and accompanied with anger. Maybe it was the guilt of not feeling blessed with my kids or maybe it was the guilt from being mad at them when they hadn’t done anything for me to be mad at. Postpartum rage is real and its a strange thing. Being mad at your sweet innocent babies for literally no reason. How awful is that.. Luckily for me, talking about my frustrations and bad moments/days, prayers, self reflecting, and figuring out when I need mental breaks helped/ are helping me get through this.
There were days where I would have to just put everyone in a room and walk away so I could collect my thoughts, or to just breathe and tell myself everything is okay. I want moms to know that doing that is okay. If it keeps you from lashing out on your kids, or keeps you from feeling way overwhelmed then do it. Place your kids in a safe place and step away. In order for you to be a good mom you need to help yourself. You need to take care of yourself so you can take care of your kids. They are dependent on you and if you aren’t even in the right head space you cant parent to the best of your ability. Take a drive, hangout with a friend, have someone watch the kids for 30 minutes, have your families get together to just hangout. I am so so so grateful that I have the husband that I do. He, himself has never dealt with anxiety or depression, but he never makes me feel like my emotions aren't valid. He comforts me when I need comforting, gives me advice, stands in my corner, lifts me up when I need encouragement. You need a great support system. It doesn't have to be your significant other, but you need someone to talk to who isn't going to judge you.
It’s still an everyday battle. It’s not something that goes away over night. I have to remind myself to just take a break, a breather, step away, find joy. This past year has been hard and I’m ready to close to door and move on. I'm ready to be a better mom for my kids and just choose to be happy. Choose to love.
In conclusion, please if anyone is going through a similar situation or you feel like you just need someone to talk to...TALK. You don’t have to and you don’t need to go through this alone. I am always here, and ALWAYS an open ear or shoulder to cry on. It's a scary battle, I understand.
**Carolyn Wanger insert: https://www.mother.ly/life/we-need-to-talk-about-postpartum-rageand-why-it-happens
**PPD Hotline: https://www.postpartumdepression.com/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMIwM3WnYPY4gIVgYCfCh0aHQ_7EAAYASAAEgJnH_D_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds
When I had my son it was such a breeze (so to say). Once we got home our breast feeding journey started; which was hard and often times; felt impossible. But we made it a year and I was so proud of myself. Motherhood was amazing. Baylor wasn't the easiest baby. He would cry...scream randomly for about an hour every night for reasons I never figured out. We co-slept and he stayed “on the boob” all day. We watched movies, hung out, played, bonded, and just figured out this new life that we lived in everyday. It was hard but it was amazing. I didn't have any postpartum, or baby blues. I felt nothing but happiness and pure joy. It was your typical “I created this perfect little human and I could stare at his face all day” type of feeling. Like I said, a breeze.
When I had my girls, things were much different. It took about 2 months to get them actually home with us. They stayed in the NICU much longer than Baylor and that was difficult. But once we got home everything just seemed great. My family was ALL together. I was so happy and was ready to start life as a mom of three. Shortly after we got into a rhythm I started to notice that I was just not happy and just felt like I wasn’t feeling that bond like you’re supposed to. Maybe I was just overwhelmed with three kids and just felt too much pressure to upkeep the house and take care of the kids, and oh yeah take care of myself. It just felt like a lot. It felt like my job was never done. That I would get one thing completed and then have to do another and then another and another. But it just kept getting worse. Days kept getting darker, thoughts started to get darker. I just felt empty. But how? How can I feel empty and how can I not be happy with three literal miracles sitting right in front of me. How can I look at my children's faces and not feel joy? I have no clue. I don't have the answers, but it happens. It’s not a good feeling. My days got so dark that I contemplated death at times. I thought of a couple ways that would be best. I thought maybe once my husband gets home I would just slip into the bathroom and take too many pills. Or maybe I’d ask to run to the store and run off the road. Looking at me from the outside you would never know those things were running through my head. People would ask how is it going? And I would say “good, taking it day by day.” I couldn’t just say, “Awful...I’m struggling.” I felt like people would look at me like I’m crazy, or would think little of me and tell me I’m a bad mom. Mostly the reason why I didn’t say anything. I already said those things to myself. You are probably so taken back right now that you are in disbelief. Trust me, I didn’t want to have those thoughts. But I didn’t ask for help because I was embarrassed. You see it wasn't that my husband didn't treat me good, or that my family didn't show me love, or my kids weren't enough to live for...it was just I felt the best option was to take my own life. I felt so overwhelmed and felt like the only way out of the chaos was to take myself away from it. I just thought that Dillon wouldn't have to deal with my depression if I were gone, or my kids wouldn't have to see their mom struggle if I were gone. It just seemed like the best option and life would just be so much better if I weren’t in it. But I was so wrong. If I left then Dillon would have to do life by himself, the kids would grow up without their mother, and my parents would have to bury a child. How selfish. I was just about to let this awful disease win. But that's not who I am. I don’t let life beat me down, I fight against the odds. I want people to know that when someone is dealing with depression and wants to kill themselves it is not a result of you not loving them enough or not doing enough. There isn’t anything you could have done better or more of that would’ve changed the situation. When someone gets to that point the help that you can give them is out of your ability. They have to want to get help.
Postpartum rage is a serious thing that doesn’t often get talked about. Carolyn Wagner does a great job of explaining PPR.
“ Women are more informed than ever about what to be on the lookout for after baby arrives: sadness that lasts beyond the first two weeks, difficulty sleeping when baby is sleeping, intrusive thoughts, excessive crying and trouble bonding with baby, just to name a few symptoms of postpartum depression and anxiety. But there is one symptom that still receives very little attention: postpartum rage.
What on earth am I talking about when I say “postpartum rage”? I’m talking about overwhelming anger. Anger that is so intense it feels like it shouldn’t even be called just “anger.” The kind that sneaks up on you and before you know it, you are exploding. It may be prompted by a seemingly minor annoyance—a load of dishes that your partner forgot to start the night before, leaving you without a clean coffee mug in the morning, or a red light when you’re trying to get home with a crying baby in the backseat. Or it may bubble up out of nowhere—your mom calls to ask how your day is going and suddenly you’re screaming about the awful night before and your certainty that tonight will be even worse.”
A lot of the time all it takes is just talking to someone to “fix” it. Just letting your family or your spouse know “hey, I’m in a dark place. I don’t exactly know why, but I just need your help to keep check on me and to just listen to me.” I myself have been through this. I distinctly remember one night asking my husband “Will you pray for me? I’m not okay. I think somethings wrong. I don’t know if I need to get help or what, but I need you to pray for me.” Ive dealt with depression before so it sort of felt like that but much darker and accompanied with anger. Maybe it was the guilt of not feeling blessed with my kids or maybe it was the guilt from being mad at them when they hadn’t done anything for me to be mad at. Postpartum rage is real and its a strange thing. Being mad at your sweet innocent babies for literally no reason. How awful is that.. Luckily for me, talking about my frustrations and bad moments/days, prayers, self reflecting, and figuring out when I need mental breaks helped/ are helping me get through this.
There were days where I would have to just put everyone in a room and walk away so I could collect my thoughts, or to just breathe and tell myself everything is okay. I want moms to know that doing that is okay. If it keeps you from lashing out on your kids, or keeps you from feeling way overwhelmed then do it. Place your kids in a safe place and step away. In order for you to be a good mom you need to help yourself. You need to take care of yourself so you can take care of your kids. They are dependent on you and if you aren’t even in the right head space you cant parent to the best of your ability. Take a drive, hangout with a friend, have someone watch the kids for 30 minutes, have your families get together to just hangout. I am so so so grateful that I have the husband that I do. He, himself has never dealt with anxiety or depression, but he never makes me feel like my emotions aren't valid. He comforts me when I need comforting, gives me advice, stands in my corner, lifts me up when I need encouragement. You need a great support system. It doesn't have to be your significant other, but you need someone to talk to who isn't going to judge you.
It’s still an everyday battle. It’s not something that goes away over night. I have to remind myself to just take a break, a breather, step away, find joy. This past year has been hard and I’m ready to close to door and move on. I'm ready to be a better mom for my kids and just choose to be happy. Choose to love.
In conclusion, please if anyone is going through a similar situation or you feel like you just need someone to talk to...TALK. You don’t have to and you don’t need to go through this alone. I am always here, and ALWAYS an open ear or shoulder to cry on. It's a scary battle, I understand.
**Carolyn Wanger insert: https://www.mother.ly/life/we-need-to-talk-about-postpartum-rageand-why-it-happens
**PPD Hotline: https://www.postpartumdepression.com/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMIwM3WnYPY4gIVgYCfCh0aHQ_7EAAYASAAEgJnH_D_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds