Tag Archives: Postpartum Mood Disorders

12 Days of Christmas Challenge: Postpartum the Sneaky Mood Disorder

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Just last week, I put a call out on Twitter for Christmas Song Suggestions for a blog project. Today starts this project. Last year, I did a 12 days of Christmas during which I took 12 Postpartum Myths and explained them. This year, I decided to really challenge myself. It’s not meant to be as informative as last years but is instead a bit more free-spirited. I’ll be rewriting 12 Christmas songs for the next 12 days to fit the theme of Postpartum Mood Disorders and the experience they impart. Some may be more fact based than others but keep in mind the format to which I’ve constrained myself. I have to keep with the flow of the song in regards to syllables, etc. And no, I will not be offering audio versions of these songs. Well maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. What do you think? (I warn you, I’m not the best singer in the world. Please don’t make me sing.)

Today’s post is based on “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” Enjoy and have a happy holiday season!

Postpartum, the sneaky mood disorder,

has a very stealthy mode.

And if you ever have it,

you would even say it blows.

All of the other mommies

used to laugh and bond with baby.

They never let us see them

fail at their baby games.

Then one tough morning

Mama came to say:

“Postpartum with your mood so foul,

won’t you let me laugh tonight?”

Then all the mamas rallied

as they shouted out with zeal,

Mama, you’re not alone,

we’re heading off to heal!

Depressiva: For the 20%

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Coco Chanel. Valentino. Dior. Givenchy. Gaultier. Armani. Versace. Saint Laurent.

All top current or past fashion houses. Associated with luxury.

Ferrari. Porsche. Mercedes. BMW. Lexus. McLaren. Bentley. Audi.

All luxury automobile companies. Associated with luxury.

Godiva. Lindt. Cadbury. Jacques Torres.

Chocolatiers. Associated with luxury and indulgence.

Depression.

Mood Disorder. NOT associated with luxury.

So often we wish and covet the finer things in life. Good chocolate. Fine cars. Nice clothes. Materialistic, yes, but we are by default, human, and have materialistic cravings. It happens.

I remember the last time I thought about wanting a decadent truffle. Or a nice dress. Or even thought about my dream car.

What I don’t remember, however, is the last time I wished for depression. The last time I thought to myself, hey, you know what? Depression sounds really good today. I think, along with a hot bubble bath and a cup of the world’s finest hot cocoa, I’ll slip a little Depression into my day. It’s just too damn bright and sunny today. Today needs a touch of Depression. Where do I get that? What does it look like? Is it a pair of glasses I slip on to grey down the bright sunny day? An iPod with Ben Stein’s monotone voice repeating over and over how much today sucks? Or is it food that looks delicious but tastes like nothing? Oooh.. I know.. it’s a bouncy house… grey… with an entrance which closes behind you and doesn’t re-open until you manage to find the right secret compartment containing a magic map to show you the way out. YES! It’s a grey bouncy house!

Depression is not a luxury.

It’s not a sumptuous bubble bath into which one sinks at the end of the day.

It’s not a delectable hand crafted dark chocolate truffle.

It’s not a magnificent engine encased in fine steel able to handle curves as if they don’t exist.

It’s just as real though.

It’s just as tangible.

It’s there for up to 20% of new moms.

It’s there for millions of Americans.

They didn’t go to a showroom to purchase it.

They didn’t click on a link to choose it.

They didn’t put it on a gift list.

It wasn’t swag.

Like an unwelcome guest, it showed up at the front door, pushed inside, and stayed put for much longer than necessary. It fed on shreds of happiness, sanity, and gobbled up hope. Like a squatter, it showed no signs of leaving.

If that’s your idea of luxury, if you truly think that falling into the deep dark pit of depression is luxury?

You need more help than I ever did.