Postpartum Depression
It's not easy to write about something unpleasant, but I think it's important for me to document this, as it was a very life changing experience for me.
Immediately after Abram's birth I felt guilty, like it was my fault that he had come early. Maybe I had been too stressed out or anxious, etc. I was also feeling very sad that he was in the NICU and not with me. This would change a lot of things that I had planned on, like breastfeeding, which I felt was a big part of bonding, which I had successfully experienced with Samuel. We also had a change of insurance at the time, due to Roberto's new employment, which meant I couldn't get access to an electric breast pump after going home. Oh and I just had major surgery to recover from and a five year old son at home. All of these things were running through my mind and I was feeling very overwhelmed.
The day we came home from the hospital and could not bring Abram with us, was so very hard. Once I was home, I became obsessed with pumping my milk, which I had to do every 3 hours, if I wanted to keep my milk supply so that I could eventually breastfeed Abram exclusively. I was able to use a manual pump and did so for about a week after I had been discharged from the hospital. I would go to the hospital at least twice a day to bring him milk for feedings. I became tired and discouraged, and when I noticed my milk supply was decreasing, I decided to stop pumping milk. I was angry.
I remember going to see Abram on a Sunday with my parents. I had told my mom that I had decided to stop pumping my milk and to have Abram drink formula (again, something I didn't need to do with Samuel) She told me that whatever I decided would be fine as long as I was happy. Then I said, that it didn't matter what I decided, because I would still be unhappy. That's where I think it all started. I was stuck in a circumstance that I didn't want to be in. Things hadn't gone the way I had expected and as much as I tried to cope, I was miserable. I wanted to believe that I would feel like me again and that everything would work out, but I didn't feel that way at all. The more I tried to get back into a routine, the more I felt like "normal life" was so far out of reach. Three days later, I tried going to the grocery store and for the first time in my life, I had a panic attack. I almost didn't get into my car because I was so worked up. It was scary. I knew something was wrong and that I needed to go to someone and get help.
I confessed to my mother and sister that I had felt very overwhelmed and upset and that I thought I should go see my doctor. It had been only 11 days since I had given birth, but I still felt like I needed help, fast. The doctor had me take a questionnaire and it was confirmed that I was depressed. She was about to have me go on medication but she remembered that I had Addison's and wondered if the way I was feeling had something to do with my body recovering from the c-section surgery. She recommended that I adjust my steroid medication and see if that helped. I had a previously scheduled appointment with my endocrinologist (Addison's doctor) coming soon anyway so I decided to just wait until I saw him.
As the days passed, I got progressively worse. It was as if I was living in a haze. Nothing mattered anymore and I just didn't care. The day of my appointment with my endocrinologist came and I told him all that had happened. My sweet mother came with me and was in tears the entire time. I was just angry. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to exist, I just wanted to disappear. The doctor recommended that I get on an antidepressant and soon. That same day I filled the prescription and started taking the medication.
I was very fortunate to have my mother and my sister. They were my support system during this time. They were with me everyday, through every moment, while I was a zombie. It literally took me forever to do the simplest tasks like take a shower or eat. I wasn't good at taking my medication everyday either so it took about a good month after I had started taking the pills before I was taking them everyday. My parents were in the process of packing up and moving so my Mother in Law took over and started coming over everyday to help me out. Abram came home on August 20th and I remember feeling like he shouldn't have come home with me because I was a mess.
At first the medication made me cry, a lot; which I didn't think was that great but at least I was showing emotion and that was progress. I started feeling very guilty about not doing all that I should be doing on my own and ashamed that I had even been depressed, when I had wanted to have a baby so badly. I also kept wishing I could go back to my old life and feeling like having a baby was a mistake. I felt so estranged with Abram. I wanted to feel love for him, but I didn't feel anything but responsibility. The only thing that would get me out of bed would be to help Samuel with homework and get him to school.
My OB had also recommended talk therapy in addition to the medication. I was so far gone that we were willing to try anything that would help. It took a while for me to set up the appointment, I think it was a month after starting the antidepressant, but I was able to go see a therapist. After taking the medication for 8 weeks consistently, I was able to function, do things on my own but I still didn't feel like myself. It was after a session with my therapist that I decided I didn't want to take medication anymore.
I called my OB and asked about stopping the medication and she said I could just stop cold turkey. I had been reading about this online and decided to wean myself off them by cutting the pills and decreasing my dosage slowly over time. I weaned off the medication in 2 weeks. I'm so glad I did because I could feel the affects of it; mainly I became irritated and upset, I would cry for no reason, etc. I was a little nervous about coming off the meds because it could lead to a relapse of my depression but I knew that with the help of my therapist I would be able to deal with it. If worse came to worse, I would just get back on it.
I am happy to report that it has been almost 2 months since I have been completely off the medication and I am ME AGAIN!!! I am so thankful to my God that I am once again the happy person I was. I absolutely love my son Abram, he is so beautiful and his smile makes everyday worth it.
Immediately after Abram's birth I felt guilty, like it was my fault that he had come early. Maybe I had been too stressed out or anxious, etc. I was also feeling very sad that he was in the NICU and not with me. This would change a lot of things that I had planned on, like breastfeeding, which I felt was a big part of bonding, which I had successfully experienced with Samuel. We also had a change of insurance at the time, due to Roberto's new employment, which meant I couldn't get access to an electric breast pump after going home. Oh and I just had major surgery to recover from and a five year old son at home. All of these things were running through my mind and I was feeling very overwhelmed.
The day we came home from the hospital and could not bring Abram with us, was so very hard. Once I was home, I became obsessed with pumping my milk, which I had to do every 3 hours, if I wanted to keep my milk supply so that I could eventually breastfeed Abram exclusively. I was able to use a manual pump and did so for about a week after I had been discharged from the hospital. I would go to the hospital at least twice a day to bring him milk for feedings. I became tired and discouraged, and when I noticed my milk supply was decreasing, I decided to stop pumping milk. I was angry.
I remember going to see Abram on a Sunday with my parents. I had told my mom that I had decided to stop pumping my milk and to have Abram drink formula (again, something I didn't need to do with Samuel) She told me that whatever I decided would be fine as long as I was happy. Then I said, that it didn't matter what I decided, because I would still be unhappy. That's where I think it all started. I was stuck in a circumstance that I didn't want to be in. Things hadn't gone the way I had expected and as much as I tried to cope, I was miserable. I wanted to believe that I would feel like me again and that everything would work out, but I didn't feel that way at all. The more I tried to get back into a routine, the more I felt like "normal life" was so far out of reach. Three days later, I tried going to the grocery store and for the first time in my life, I had a panic attack. I almost didn't get into my car because I was so worked up. It was scary. I knew something was wrong and that I needed to go to someone and get help.
I confessed to my mother and sister that I had felt very overwhelmed and upset and that I thought I should go see my doctor. It had been only 11 days since I had given birth, but I still felt like I needed help, fast. The doctor had me take a questionnaire and it was confirmed that I was depressed. She was about to have me go on medication but she remembered that I had Addison's and wondered if the way I was feeling had something to do with my body recovering from the c-section surgery. She recommended that I adjust my steroid medication and see if that helped. I had a previously scheduled appointment with my endocrinologist (Addison's doctor) coming soon anyway so I decided to just wait until I saw him.
As the days passed, I got progressively worse. It was as if I was living in a haze. Nothing mattered anymore and I just didn't care. The day of my appointment with my endocrinologist came and I told him all that had happened. My sweet mother came with me and was in tears the entire time. I was just angry. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to exist, I just wanted to disappear. The doctor recommended that I get on an antidepressant and soon. That same day I filled the prescription and started taking the medication.
I was very fortunate to have my mother and my sister. They were my support system during this time. They were with me everyday, through every moment, while I was a zombie. It literally took me forever to do the simplest tasks like take a shower or eat. I wasn't good at taking my medication everyday either so it took about a good month after I had started taking the pills before I was taking them everyday. My parents were in the process of packing up and moving so my Mother in Law took over and started coming over everyday to help me out. Abram came home on August 20th and I remember feeling like he shouldn't have come home with me because I was a mess.
At first the medication made me cry, a lot; which I didn't think was that great but at least I was showing emotion and that was progress. I started feeling very guilty about not doing all that I should be doing on my own and ashamed that I had even been depressed, when I had wanted to have a baby so badly. I also kept wishing I could go back to my old life and feeling like having a baby was a mistake. I felt so estranged with Abram. I wanted to feel love for him, but I didn't feel anything but responsibility. The only thing that would get me out of bed would be to help Samuel with homework and get him to school.
My OB had also recommended talk therapy in addition to the medication. I was so far gone that we were willing to try anything that would help. It took a while for me to set up the appointment, I think it was a month after starting the antidepressant, but I was able to go see a therapist. After taking the medication for 8 weeks consistently, I was able to function, do things on my own but I still didn't feel like myself. It was after a session with my therapist that I decided I didn't want to take medication anymore.
I called my OB and asked about stopping the medication and she said I could just stop cold turkey. I had been reading about this online and decided to wean myself off them by cutting the pills and decreasing my dosage slowly over time. I weaned off the medication in 2 weeks. I'm so glad I did because I could feel the affects of it; mainly I became irritated and upset, I would cry for no reason, etc. I was a little nervous about coming off the meds because it could lead to a relapse of my depression but I knew that with the help of my therapist I would be able to deal with it. If worse came to worse, I would just get back on it.
I am happy to report that it has been almost 2 months since I have been completely off the medication and I am ME AGAIN!!! I am so thankful to my God that I am once again the happy person I was. I absolutely love my son Abram, he is so beautiful and his smile makes everyday worth it.
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