When I was little, I had this desire, this ambition to become a mother. I saw motherhood through rose-colored glasses: the big, beautiful table surrounded by children, the ease, the strong, powerful love… However, ideals don’t prepare you for the biggest challenges: hormones and postpartum depression. No, postpartum isn’t just a hormonal dip; no, it isn’t caused solely by life’s stressors—it’s a real depression, in its purest and most severe form.
The “baby blues” that women experience are supposed to disappear within a few days of starting. I
It doesn’t give you dark thoughts or crazy ideas. I have a serious problem with anxiety and impulsivity in my daily life, so that puts me at high risk. Why are others able to control themselves? Why does that so-called “baby blues” eventually go away for other people? Yes. I’ve told myself that often, yet postpartum depression is very common.
My first delivery was incredibly demanding. In just a few days, the doctors were adamant about my condition: it wasn’t just the baby blues; I had something more serious. My mind wasn’t right. I didn’t look at my daughter; I just sat there, close to my new little family, but I felt so far away at the same time. My mind was telling me I didn’t love her; it was at war with my heart. The little one would get on my nerves during her crying fits, to the point where I’d scratch the skin on my forearms. That’s what kept me from shaking her. Instead of hurting her, I hurt myself.
That depression lasted a long time; I couldn’t even say if I’ve fully recovered from it.
I hadn’t even established a bond with my oldest yet, and now I had to form a second one: I’m pregnant! But I was sure it would go well—I felt strong. And yet…
And just like that, our little second child came into our lives. Wow! I was full of energy, my postpartum checkup went great—nothing to complain about. I was going out to parent group activities and community cooking classes; I’d do my hair and get dressed every morning. Then, all of a sudden, my oldest started acting out in very intense and unpleasant ways. Add to that social pressures, the pressure I put on myself to be okay, the baby’s crying fits, and the exhaustion…
One intensely rainy afternoon, I wasn’t expecting that verdict—I thought things were getting better. But the diagnosis was very clear: postpartum depression—again.
My world came crashing down—twice. Just when I should be taking care of my little girls, I’m the one who needs taking care of. How? I’m working on it. Surrounded by wonderful professionals, I’ll get through this. Surrounded by my family and friends, I’ll get through this. Surrounded by my two little miracles, I’ll make it through—but most of all, surrounded by my wonderful husband, who helps and supports me, I’ll make it through.
Don’t give up, moms—you’re amazing! Take care of yourselves; it might come knocking on your door, now or later, but you have to believe in yourselves! Everything will work out! You can do it, too. Don’t wait until it’s too late. Don’t wait—help is essential. You’re not weak if you ask for help—on the contrary, it shows that family life is paramount and that you’re determined to make it work. I’m giving you a little pat on the back, and most importantly, I want you to know that you’re not alone and that this happens much more often than people realize.