Here’s a quick list of some moms who are speaking up across the blogosphere about their experience with Postpartum Depression:
Paige @ Walker World “It Snuck up on Me”
Melissa @ YogaMamaMe “Turn Turn Turn …or not: What I learned at 6 months”
Shuggilippo “Lately I really suck at being nice.” (focus on delayed PPD)
"Day 6" by samwebster @ flickr
Kanga-what?
Kangaroo Mother Care is when a human mother and her infant snuggle skin to skin with the infant lying prone on mom’s chest. It’s a term coined after the Kangaroo’s close relationship with her little joey who doesn’t come out of mom’s pouch for four months after birth. Instead, joey relies on mom’s warmth, nutrition, and support for his “fourth” trimester. Research has concluded over and over again that this care is invaluable for both human moms and babies as well.
In 2007 a study published in the Oxford Tropical Pediatrics from researchers at the Instituto Materno Infantil in Brazil concluded that Kangaroo Mother Care may prove helpful in warding off postpartum depression. Researchers evaluated mothers at the beginning of NICU care and at the end of their Kangaroo Mother Care. NO mother developed depression during their Kangaroo stay. Let me say that again. NO MOTHER developed depression during their Kangaroo stay.
WHO, the World Health Organization, also offers an article regarding Kangaroo Care in the early months of infancy. Their article focuses on the bonding and encouragement of breastfeeding that Kangaroo Care provides. Many of the after-birth procedures and examinations can take place while baby is on Mom’s stomach in the prone position thereby improving chances of maternal and infant bonding.
There’s also another personal story proving the very value of Kangaroo Mother Care. Carolyn Isbister, a mom out of Edinburgh, saved her infant’s life with a Kangaroo Cuddle. Her little one had been given up on by doctors. Carolyn cuddled with her infant to say goodbye. She and her husband watched as their daughter’s breathing and heart beats regulated. They watched as she went from grey to pink. Carolyn’s little girl is now healthy and home, thanks to Kangaroo Mother Care.
One of the calmest moments I had in the midst of my own downward spiral was as I sat with Charlotte snuggled up on my chest. We were in the middle of the NICU, beeps and boops all around us. The fragility of life hung heavy in the air. Her many wires, tubes, and other non-baby items draped across me as well. But all that mattered was her soft warm head resting peacefully under my chin, her breath caressing my chest. I wrapped my arms as tightly as I dared around her tiny body and closed my eyes. This was a moment in which I wanted to get lost. I wasn’t experiencing many of those at the time. Time stopped as we stepped out of the NICU and into our own little world for a bit. Even as I type this I can still smell her fresh baby scent and feel the weight of her little body curled up on my chest. It is a moment I will always cherish and never forget. My eye in the midst of a hurricane from hell.
If you’re a new mom struggling with bonding with your new infant, please try Kangaroo Mother Care. It’s free, it’s easy (mostly naked baby, mostly topless parent) and it does wonders.
There is a website dedicated to the promotion of Kangaroo Mother Care as the standard of care for all newborns. They do sell products there which I am not endorsing in any way shape or form. But the website is very informative and something worth checking out if you’re interested in trying Kangaroo Care, know or work with a population who may benefit from this option. You can reach Kangaroo Mother Care by clicking here.
Maybe it was my kids being sick for over a month this summer.
Maybe it was struggling to finally celebrate and enjoy my new life with my family (once they were healed).
Maybe it’s having to process the whole Otty Sanchez thing.
Regardless, I’ve been struggling lately to write about anything Postpartum related. And I mean REALLY struggling.
School started a few weeks ago, my husband started a new job, and I’ve been the family chauffeur to boot. In the middle of the day, I now have time to myself with just Cameron. We’ve been laughing, bonding, and just getting a kick out of getting to really know each other. He’s 20 months old now, walking, learning new words, and developing a really hilarious sense of humor while he’s at it. His favorite thing? To walk around in circles whilst screeching “wheeeeee!” almost at the top of his lungs. Second favorite is watching Mama make the cross-eyed and tongue stuck out funny face. His laugh instantly warms the room!
So forgive me for leaving you hanging – I’ve been enjoying the truly important things in my life – my kids, my husband, and just life in general.
I promise I haven’t forgotten about you!
Communication today is often done via email, text, twitter, facebook status updates. It’s become much less personal and much less formal. For some, this is good. For others, not so good. Some things get lost in translation. It’s easy to type something and hit send without thinking. It’s also easy to apply this short communication style to every day life, leading to quick judgments, misunderstandings, and worse, the planting of grudges and beginnings of the end of relationships. The art of the thoughtful conversation seems to be drifting by the wayside.
Many women and families with whom I’ve worked have expressed to me that the biggest challenge they face is enabling those around them to understand what is going on without increasing stigma or losing their formerly close relationships. It’s a struggle to go through a Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorder let alone try to explain the complexity of it to a loved one from whom you need support.
When I spoke with my parents about PPD, they were understanding, compassionate, and actually did their own informative research. The one thing that stood out to me when I was hospitalized came from a phone call with my dad. He said something simple yet profound (my dad is full of those – I LOVE him for it). My father told me not to let anyone tell me I was “crazy” for the way I was feeling given my situation. My situation was that two months prior I had given birth to our second daughter who was then subsequently diagnosed with a cleft palate and by then had undergone two surgeries, one major to help lengthen her jaw in order to allow her to breathe safely. I held it together as long as I could but finally collapsed on day 56. Turns out for me, falling apart was precisely what I needed in order to pull it back together.
I’ve spoken with Mothers and their Parents alike who are frustrated and upset by the lack of information, communication, and the subsequent misunderstandings that follow all too often in the wake of a Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorder. Often these very issues only serve to compound a family’s recovery.
Today, I would like to take the opportunity to check in and see how (or if) you told your parents (or in-laws) or kept up appearances with them. Did you let them see inside the dusty window or did you keep the shade pulled down and pray no one would accidentally flip it up?
Let’s get to Just Talkin’!
On Tuesday, this was a comment left by a mom who had never shared her story with anyone besides her husband (who lived it with her). I emailed her to ask if she would be comfortable with me giving it a post of it’s very own. Her story begins when she is 34 weeks pregnant and continues through to postpartum. I hope you find it as inspiring and as strong as I did…..
This is my first time to share my story in any capacity…. I don’t know if I’m ready, but here goes nothing…
My depression started around 34 weeks into my pregnancy… I had never heard of PPD and I didn’t know what ante partum depression was… I started to realize something was wrong somewhere between 30 – 34 weeks. I’m not afraid of medication, and think of it as an aspirin would be to a headache.
I have had depression and anxiety before so, I somewhat, recognized the signs. I told my husband that I wasn’t quite feeling right, and he encouraged me to speak with my OBGYN. At my next appointment I told my doc that I was worrying excessively, and not feeling quite right. It was really a whole new type of depression for me.. I never could and still have difficulty describing the way I felt. But worry was a BIG concern. The OBGYN said it wasn’t a big concern, and not to worry lots of new mom’s worry a lot.
My husband is a member of the “mind over matter” club. While he, I’ll say, tolerates, my need for meds to get my depression under control, he definitely is one of those, “Just push through it,” kind of people.
I saw my OBGYN on Tuesday, and she prescribed me Prozac, I ended up going to the E.R. on Sunday because I felt very overwhelmed; with what exactly, I do not know… They gave me an Ativan shot, made sure I calmed down and sent me on my way, with no real information. Or possible expectations. I then saw my OBGYN again on Wednesday, explained what had transpired over the weekend, and she prescribed me some Xanax. I felt so horrible that day, that we went straight to the nearest pharmacy and filled the script so I could take one. That Sunday I woke up and I felt worse than I thought I ever could. I told my husband that he had to take me to the E.R. So they could take the baby out so that no harm would come to her, if I did end up harming myself.
I thought this was a completely rational thought process; and was even more distressed when they told me that instead of delivering my baby early, they were sending me to the Nut House. All of this scared my husband to death, not only was he in fear of losing his wife, but that there was a possibility that he could end up without a wife and a child, or raising a baby on his own. And it was definitely one of the two, because the baby could not stay in me anymore.
I think that is when he realized, after two weeks of doctors and E.R. visits, that something was really wrong and a real threat existed not only to my life but to our unborn daughter’s life as well! I went to the psych. ward at a private hospital, where they were fairly knowledgeable about pregnancy related depression. The one thing that is VERY FRUSTRATING in my case, is that, since I was pregnant I was having a OBGYN come in and check on me daily, and since I was high risk (because of a blood disorder) I had a specialist coming to see me daily as well. They kept telling me it would be okay for me to get some Ativan, which had provided tremendous relief at the E.R. Visits, but the psychiatrist that was assigned to me when I arrived, REFUSED to give me anything other than Benadryl and Celexa, neither of which were providing any immediate relief.
As I have learned over the past year and a half since this all occurred, most psych. Wards have limited visitation, and mine was no different. My husband could come to the evening visitation and spend an hour with me. The first few days all I did was cry the whole time he was there. He was so scared. I was breaking his heart and that just made me feel even worse. I really just wanted to give him the baby and leave (you know d-i-e…) I didn’t want to burden him with all of my problems anymore. The thought of me not being around anymore, was the thing that was really bothering him. He got it in those moments.
I got out of the hospital and managed to hold it together until 38 weeks!!! YAY ME!!! When my OBGYN, asked if I wanted to go ahead and deliver, I practically took myself straight to the hospital right then. Coincidentally, I went into labor on my own the day I was scheduled to deliver. My delivery was easy… But there were some complications with my epidural, which lead to added stress. It is the most horrible feeling in the world to think back onto that day and to look at pictures and to know in those moments there was no joy, no love, and no want, for my beautiful, brand new baby girl. You can see the blankness in my face and the fakeness in my smile in all of the pictures… It breaks my heart to think of it. Will she understand, what was wrong with me then? Will she know how much she has ALWAYS been loved and wanted!
This was my husband’s first baby, but my second. I have a, now 10 y.o., daughter from a previous relationship, so I had been through the nursing and diapering and everything before. I was uncertain of myself because of my depression and anxiety, but I knew what I was doing automatically. My husband second guessed everything I did. He questioned my positioning of the baby while nursing, and was convinced that she was not getting any milk, despite the fact that the nurses had told him multiple times that everything was going fine. As one would assume this only compounded the problem I was dealing with.
A couple of days out of the hospital and other than the epidural complication I thought I was feeling much better! I look back now and think that the depression was just masked by the Vicodin they were giving me for pain after the delivery. I probably had about a weeks worth of Vicodin, and within a few days after that, I was back in the E.R. I won’t go into all of the how I was feeling… But I ended up back in the psych. Ward.
Telling my husband the second time felt easier to me… With the flawed logic of depression, It seemed very simple. I leave (aka die) and then he doesn’t have to worry about me, he now has his child, life will be easier without me… Yada yada yada… The same visitation schedule existed, naturally, I had just been there little less than a month before… My husband came to all the visitations and brought our daughters. (the first time I lied to the oldest about where I was, she still doesn’t really know why I was there either time) again, in the moment, he was understanding, apologetic, and sympathetic. He just wanted me to do what ever I need to do to get better, and come home to our family.
We had tough decisions to make. Since I was nursing, and since I had the same psychiatrist that I had had previously, she was equally unwilling to provide me with any REAL meds, until I agreed to stop nursing ( as I type that, I think I hate her for that!) Up until the point in which I agreed, I pumped and dumped, my milk every few hours in my room there in the ward. That too was heartbreaking, but I was finally at a point mentally where I knew I had to get better and go home, and without me at home, there wouldn’t be breast milk anyway! So I stopped pumping and finally got some relief!!!
When I first came home my husband was great!!!! He did the laundry without being asked, he made sure there were meals for everyone, he helped out with our new daughter a lot. But as time passed and things have gotten better his back to his same old self. Mind over matter. He really does spend a lot of time wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
I’m glad to report, that I’m now doing great, as long and I don’t have to talk about the time around my daughter’s birth, (this post has resulted in the need to take some Ativan!) And you don’t talk to me about having another baby, which my husband definitely wants to do, and I’m not so sure I can handle it… I can’t even type out what happened to me without having a panic attack!!!! But for the most part I’m GREAT! ;o) I’m down to 30 mg of Cymbalta a day, and Ativan as needed (which is rare!). We are working on weaning off the Cymbalta, but I’m in no hurry! I want to be well and I want to be here with my family.
I’m looking forward to sharing this post with my husband. I think I have stated fairly well, what I will need him to do better next time. I have also printed of a “Me First” letter (got it from a post on a PPD site) and will be well armed if we decide to have another baby! I wish my husband had a better understanding of depression. I which he could remember how VERY REAL everything we went through during our daughter’s birth was. Maybe then he would have more compassion for my now fleeting struggles, and be WELL prepared for the next time!