Life After PPD : My Story
You guys have no idea how happy I was to see the recent Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta show talk on such an important topic. It inspired me to re-post this.
I originally posted my story back on 07/15/2013, but it is important that every woman suffering with this realize that they are not alone. If you know someone who may be dealing with this: please show them lots of love, support, and patience. Also, encourage them to reach out to others that can help them get through this.
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My daughter went to Boston with my mom in April and she
FINALLY returned on the last day of June. Being away from my daughter for so
long was tough, but it was honestly the best thing that I could have done for
myself and our relationship.
In my second post, I briefly explained my hardships of
living with PPD (Postpartum Depression). In the beginning what I had the
hardest time accepting was that it was happening to me. I was in the ‘denial phase’ for so long because like with most
things I thought “it would NEVER happen to me.” I had never been in such a
state that I had absolutely no control over my emotions. I could go from a
crying spell to full on rage of anger in less than a minute. I use to be very
social and outgoing, but during that time I wanted nothing more than to be left
alone! Even when I was around people I was socially awkward and to avoid
snapping on someone I felt it was better to just stay quiet. The insomnia and
lack of food that I was eating was terrible for my health. I wasn’t doing it on
purpose, but I literally had days when I would be lying in bed and wonder,”
What did I eat today?” For the first few months I tried to excuse it as just
being the baby blues, but one night I asked myself a question that I felt no
mother should ever ask about their child. While Khloe laid in her crib crying I
thought to myself, “If anything happened to her, would I cry or would I even
care?” I knew then that what I was dealing with was not just the baby blues and
that I needed to speak to someone before it was too late.
The first person I decided to talk to was my child’s father.
I knew that I had been putting him through a lot with my rollercoaster of
emotions and I was hoping that he could help me sort through all of my crazy feelings.
That was honestly the worst thing that I could have done because it just caused
a bigger wedge between us. Instead of trying to help me, he would often use the
information I gave him as a way of trying to confirm to me I was crazy. I felt
alone and angry because it was happening
to me and I didn’t have anyone I felt I could actually turn to. Months later,
when I finally had the courage to say something to my doctor, I full out
refused treatment. She gave me two options: talk to someone about my feelings
or take the medication that she prescribed to me. I didn’t want to do either. I
thought it was senseless to pay someone to listen to my problems, and I felt
like if I took the medication she prescribed that I would be admitting that I
was as insane as I actually felt.
I told myself that I was going to do a lot of things that
would make me happy instead of going with the options that my doctor gave me. I
had always enjoyed basketball and writing. I just knew that once I started
writing and exercising it would be enough to get past what I was dealing with.
I was bargaining with myself because I
honestly felt like the only person that was capable of curing that disease was
me.
Even after countless hours in the gym or many failed
attempts at poems, none of the symptoms I was feeling went away. Instead,
things actually seemed to get worst. I went from just constantly being anxious
or stressed out, to experiencing full on panic attacks. It was bad enough that
I couldn’t control my emotions but to feel completely out of control with my body
just stressed me out even more! It made me depressed
and I felt so awful that my daughter had to have a mother like me instead of
someone that didn’t have to go through what I was dealing with.There were many
nights when I thought to myself how much better off she would be without me and
that she would benefit from being in the care of my mother or my sister because
they could easily be a better mother figure for her than me.
Some of the thoughts I considered to give her that better
life was full on crazy! When I realized I couldn’t go through with any of it, I
decided to give the options my doctor gave me a try. I acceptedthe truth and decided to get help. I was
so glad when I finally did. For over a year I had blamed myself for what I was
going through. Talking to someone made me recognize that it wasn’t my fault for
the imbalance that was going on in my brain. I also didn’t realize just how
common this mental illness was. My doctor explained that a study done by JAMA
Psychiatry found that one in seven women will suffer from postpartum
depression.
Overcoming PPD was a traumatic experience. It was no wonder
that even after receiving help and feeling better I went through a period of
what my doctor considered PTSD (Post Traumatic
Stress Disorder).Whenever I felt a little down or blue, I would fear
that my illness was back. I would often stress myself out considering that I
wasn’t finished dealing with it.
My mother is like my angel because my mother recognized this
and was so helpful with my child. The three months that my daughter was away,
it gave me more time to reflect on the mother that I was to her. Being so
stressed out from my illness and dealing with the daily struggles of being a
single parent caused me to be so insensitive of her feelings and I was also so
impatient with her. That break gave me an opportunity to fully recover and to
really begin to feel the joys of motherhood. I always knew that I loved my
child but PPD made it hard for me to REALLY feel it. Now that I’m no longer
with it I’m way more confident in not only the mother that I am, but I’m also
more confident in the women that I am.
In each paragraph I underlined and changed the color to make
it easier to recognize the different stages of PPD. Keep in mind: Not everyone is going to go through the stages in the same order and some people may even go back and fourth between a few of the stages. Also, you may not deal with every single stage. If you’re dealing with it I
want you to know that I UNDERSTAND that IT IS NOT easy! You are NOT alone and
more women have suffered silently with this disease then you could ever
imagine. If for whatever reason you feel like there is no one you could talk to
PLEASE e-mail me: ysfmama@gmail.com
If you know someone who might be dealing with it then PLEASE lend a helping
hand and let them know that they are loved, cared for, appreciated, and have
someone to support them every step of the way. As single women and mothers we
deal with our fair share of BS, and PPD is not something that we should keep on
our plate. Help is available in more ways than you could ever imagine if you
just ask. There is never a problem in
asking or accepting help. I promise to keep your information and story
private unless you make that decision and ask to also share your journey. As
single mothers, we take the work that is designed for a village and do it all
alone, but we can accomplish so much more when we stand up and we do it together.
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