When You're Supposed to Be Happy

Postpartum (yeesh, give me that word in a spelling bee, I'll spell out every time!) depression was not something I'd thought about. I'd heard about it, but never really considered that I would end up walking through it. That kind of thing was responsible for news stories of moms who killed their own kids.

Within four weeks of Piper's birth, I found myself fighting postpartum depression. It was like looking through a plexiglass window, where you can't hear anything on the other side, but you can see people going about their lives, occasionally tapping the window to see if you'll respond.

Here I was, a new mom, with the whole world expecting me to be bouncing off the walls about it. But they didn't know that Piper had just sort of happened to me. I hadn't spent my whole pregnancy dreaming about her arrival. Pete was studying for the Bar, and I didn't want to leave him behind. Just before we got pregnant, I had four months of really good health for the first time in years. Ten months later, I had exhausted adrenals, a renewed attack from my Lyme disease, a different body, and a baby who demanded all of my time.

Everyone made assumptions that I was happy. I couldn't just say what I finally blasted at God:

I feel like such a lousy mom. I feel so self-centered, but I know it *is* healthy for me to have a break sometimes. I guess I feel like You're supposed to have more control of this all somehow, so in a way, I guess I'm kinda mad at You. I don't want to be, really, You're just the one that things get directed at.

I know You already know all this stuff is inside me. I hate it. I don't want it to be there. I have such visions of spending time with her, cuddling, talking, loving, and when it comes down to it, she screams and screams and I can't do anything but make it stop, and somewhere along the line I lose my sanity over it and feel like I can't even be my own person.

I don't want to admit that I wanted this. I don't want to remember that I decided to try and trust You with it. I don't ever want to get pregnant and have a baby again. And I wanted to trust You with that too.

I miss Pete, God. I miss spending time talking with him without a baby squalling in the background. I miss being independent and having some time for myself to email or blog or whatever--now I can't even do my photo-editing!

I don't know how all this is supposed to work, but I know You're supposed to, and if You could just somehow make it easier...? I feel horrible asking, like I'm such a wimp, and why can't I handle all of this, but God, I don't have anything left. Am I just having a pity party here? I mean, women throughout history have dealt with all of this before, and why should I be any different?

But I guess I'm just desperate. I feel like I just can't take any more. Please, I need You to help me, because I just can't keep going on like this, and nobody else understands, and I can't explain it all to them...

I have discovered that a lot of women go through postpartum depression. My doctor told me that it can take ten to twelve weeks for hormones to normalize after a pregnancy. Mine haven't normalized because of the effect of the Lyme disease on my pituitary gland.

In my opinion, postpartum depression is the worst kind of depression you can experience. You're supposed to be happy with this new baby that you dreamed about, enjoying the attention, and learning to live a completely new, wonderful life. But because of the depression, you can't enjoy it the way you dreamed you would, and those around you blame you for having a bad attitude or not being grateful or... a million other reasons.

And their blame doesn't begin to approach the weight of your own guilt, because you just know that somehow it's your fault.

I want to say it's okay, but it doesn't always feel okay. It's scary, and it's something that I can't go through alone. It helped when I ran across a post in September from a mom who was encouraging postpartum depressed moms. The two things that encouraged me the most were her suggestions: making a list of things I was thankful for, and being kissy with baby.

The thing that helps me the most is looking outside myself and remembering that I am not alone.

I'm now 17 months from Piper's birth, still dealing with depression, still dealing with the herxheimer reaction. Still learning to trust. Still waking up every morning. Still not sure if I want to have another baby. I pray for quiet, for naps, for something done. I pray for happy - or at least, content. I am reminded in small ways that God is good. I know He is more than I am.

I'm not bouncing off the walls; but I find peace. And there is sunlight on my fingers as I type.