The Hardest Thing I had to Admit to Myself

I watch my daughter playing on the floor happily and I’m thankful she is playing happily on her own. It won’t last. I know that and she knows that.

Resting my head in my hands I wonder when the switch will flip, and will I be able to handle it this time? She really is a good baby, but I can’t seem to escape these feelings that I’ve been having about her. I think I need help, but I’m probably ok.  I’m overreacting, everything is going to be okay.

But everything isn’t ok.

I can’t go to sleep at night, because I’m plagued with these negative thoughts and feelings and I have to get them out of my head somehow. So I grab my journal and begin to write.

But I can’t do it. I can’t write the words let alone admit them to myself in just my thoughts. These words that will make me the worst
mother in the world are right there at the edge of mind and the tip of my pen.

So, I take I deep breath and write the words anyway. The words that brought all the walls I’d put up crashing down around me.

“I think I resent my daughter”

The awfulness of seeing those words in print cause me to sob, and everything I’ve been feeling and thinking comes out. How can I resent her??  She’s my daughter and I love her, but I can’t do this anymore.

I close my journal and head to the computer. Maybe I can find something that will help. You can find just about anything on google, but instead I find myself on my moms group message board and my heart stops at the most recent post another mom put up.

PPD

Is that what I think it stands for? What are the chances? I open the link and I begin to read her story, that sounds so much like my own.  She got help, and can remember the day she looked at her daughter and realized those negative feelings had disappeared and the love for her daughter overshadowed everything else and overwhelmed her. I wanted that too.

They always tell you that lots of people suffer the same way, but still no one talks about it. I could barely write those awful words and I still couldn’t admit to myself that I needed help and to give what I was feeling a name. That would make it real, and it would mean I failed. I always said I would get help.  I know better. My mom and sister both suffered, I should know better. But I didn’t.

I went on facebook and found more random posts about PPD, and I couldn’t escape that feeling that I was being pursued by Someone. Someone who saw my pain even when it seemed like no one else did. He saw and He was pushing me to admit it to myself, and to get help.  God was carrying me through that difficult time.

So I finally did.

I read those awful words over and over, and finally admitted to myself that I am suffering from post partum depression. I tried every day to over come it, but I couldn’t do it on my own anymore.

I finally told my husband and he said he knew. Of course he knew. He is more observant than I give him credit for, but a part of me still wanted him to say something, rather than wait for me to say something. We agreed that at Meghan’s next checkup we would talk to the doctor, and get the help I needed.

It was her 6 month checkup when I finally told the doctor that I was not doing well.  6 months of suffering and trying to fix myself.

She prescribed me anti-depressants and within a few weeks I noticed a difference. Similar to the other mom’s story I was finding myself falling in love with my daughter all over again.  I loved her during those first 6 months, but it wasn’t enough to escape or overcome the depression and resentment I felt.

Now Meghan manages to help me heal even more every day, with her smile, and her crazy antics.  She still drives us crazy, but my love for her continues to grow.

So, don’t wait 6 months, and if you think someone else is struggling, don’t hesitate to say something. They will probably deny it, but maybe you saying something to them and wanting to make sure they are okay, will help push them to get the right help for them too. Just because someone else cared enough to notice, and to do something about it.

I love my girl so very much, and I still struggled, but I found ways to cope, and I’m happy to say that I am almost completely off of the
anti depressants.

The hardest thing about Post Partum Depression is admitting it to yourself. Once you can do that, the rest seems to fall into place, and you’ll look back and know that you made the right decision.

I did it for Meghan, and I did it for Caleb. They needed their mommy back and my husband needed his wife back.  It was the hardest and the best decision I made, and I have no regrets getting the help I needed and going on anti-depressants.  Just that I didn’t get help sooner.

Now I look at her face and wonder how I could ever feel like that, but it happens.  Maybe it happened to you.  I hope you had the strength to get help, and I hope my story helps you.