Postpartum Depression

When I had my son I experienced absolutely no postpartum issues. I heard the stories and knew the statistics but I turned out fine. I considered myself lucky to come out of pregnancy and childbirth relatively unscathed. When I became pregnant with my daughter, my firstborn was 10 months old. I remember sitting in my kitchen, about 3 months pregnant and telling my husband to watch out because this pregnancy was different. I felt different – couldn’t put my finger on what it was. But I had the presence of mind to alert him to the changes and moved my concerns quietly to the back of my busy brain.

Due to a job change and housing relocation we moved 3 times while I was pregnant. Our last move took us from NYC to the Bay Area; I was 7 ½ months along. Once in CA we camped out in temporary corporate housing and quickly searched for a house. My husband got up to speed on the new job, we put an offer on a house, the offer was accepted and I gave birth. 2 weeks after our daughter was born (via c-section) we closed on our new house and there I was, painting the ceilings, washing walls, picking out carpets, schlepping my children back and forth between homes. When my daughter was 5 weeks old we moved for the 4th and final time of 2004 into our new house. Furniture came out of storage, more painting, moving furniture, getting set up, nursing infant, getting toddler comfortable, landscaping...

And then we were finished settling in.

And then I started to unravel.


It was little things at first. I couldn’t seem to accomplish small tasks, couldn’t even muster the brain power to make a coherent list. Then I started crying out of the blue, at the drop of a hat. Then it progressed to imagining what would happen if I just died and someone else took care of my kids. The color of the sky made me weep uncontrollably. One night as I tried to hush my 8 week old to sleep while my husband was traveling for work, I could literally feel darkness descending around me. I was terrified – what the hell was happening to me? I looked down at my sleeping daughter and knew something was horribly wrong…but I still couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. Why couldn’t I pull it together?

I can honestly say I’m one of the more together people I know and have never in my life been depressed. I am always on the go, fairly organized, confident – there really isn’t much that I would change about how I tackle mothering and the world. I was completely unprepared for what was happening to my mind, my soul, my life.

One night as I was pulling out of our street on the way to pick up my husbands dry cleaning I came to a screeching halt. Literally. I found that I was unable to move the car – it was like I had forgotten how to drive. I could not pull out of my street and instead dissolved into tears a few feet from the busy intersection. I turned around and went back into my driveway and called my best friend, marian. Between that phone call and a long talk with my husband that night I realized that I was in the throes of postpartum depression and that I needed help.

I didn’t know anyone in my new town – all of my close friends were 3000 miles away. I received a blessing from my husband and found a therapist through my insurance company. I was willing to do anything to get out of this awful dark fog I was in, but all she recommended was exercise, making lists and spending some time away from the kids each day. I was skeptical…but I followed her recommendations.

I came out of my postpartum depression relatively easily but I think that’s because I worked hard at getting better and I was just lucky. I fell in love with my husband all over again as he was completely supportive and wonderful throughout the entire process. And I fell in love with my children again. I wanted to be their mother and I was grateful to have them in my life. The sky looked blue again, voices were clearer, food tasted better. My soul took a breath.

I have been quiet about my experience mainly because there is such a stigma attached to depression and mental illness in general. My family still doesn’t know what I went through. So why am I bringing it up now that I am healthy and happy again? Because I met a woman at a Christmas party a month ago and realized that it’s OK to talk about postpartum depression. We were at a small gathering of couples from our ward, chatting in small circles when “Anna” (as I’ll refer to her) walked over. I knew her from church but didn’t really know anything about her. I complimented her on the sleeping 6 month old in her arms and asked her how this, her 3rd baby, was doing. She smiled and said that only in the last month had her life returned to normal, as she had been in and out of the hospital suffering from postpartum depression. My jaw dropped. Her candor was astonishing. She was completely open to answering questions and talking about her experience. Because of my brief conversation with Anna I realized that we as a community of women and mothers need to be more open about topics as charged as depression. How I would have welcomed that kind of candor when I was going through it myself.

Someday I will have a 3rd baby and there is a good chance that I will again experience postpartum depression, probably more acutely than the first time. When that time comes I will be armed with information, the name of a counselor and the knowledge that it’s OK to talk about.