Tag Archives: postpartum depression

PND in Dads is not a fallacy

The main reason I started this blog was to lend a voice to the experience of having a baby after postpartum depression. At that time, my advocacy for families struggling with Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders was in its infancy.

Over the past few years, my experiences, both personal and online, have lent to an understanding that it’s not only moms who experience depression after the birth of a child.

I’ve interviewed dads like Joel Schwartzberg and Jeff Tow who have personally experienced it. I’ve lived with a dad who experienced it. I’ve spoken with experts who have conducted research in the area and also with experts such as Dr. Will Courtenay, who provide counseling and support for men who experience what is properly termed as “Paternal Postnatal Depression.”

Yesterday, The Guardian published a piece by Barbara Ellen entitled, ” ‘Postnatally depressed’ dads? Give me a break.” I read it this morning as yesterday I was on the road. Barely awake and still blinking to bring words into focus, I saw a tweet on my timeline referring to the article. I clicked. It was a response post by the folks over at Mind Hacks. I knew this required more response than I could provide via Twitter. So here I am.

[tweet https://twitter.com/mindhacksblog/status/191478302169501696 align=’center’]

The Guardian has a less than stellar record when it comes to Postnatal Depression stories to begin with so I’m not terribly surprised they allowed something such as this to be posted. More often than not, stories involving PND at The Guardian include gruesome details with no trigger warnings, and they also link to further triggering articles. No resources or further information is ever given.

Let’s begin by examining the definition of postnatal:

post·na·tal (pst-ntl) adj. Of or occurring after birth, especially in the period immediately after birth.

It states “after birth,” yes? It does not state “after giving birth.” Postnatal depression, for most women, is intrinsically linked to childbirth, but according to Ms. Ellen, adoptive parents are also excluded from the experience of Postnatal depression because they fail her test for the qualifications to achieve proper “Postnatal Depression” legitmacy:

“Were hormonal levels tested? Was postpartum bruising measured? How about the emergence of a human head in what – in deference to what might be your leisurely Sunday breakfast – I will refer to as the front-bottom area?”

What about women who had a cesarean section? Given that their child also did not technically emerge from “the front bottom area”, are they also excluded from experiencing Postnatal depression?

Ms. Ellen, in her bashing of men who experience Postnatal Depression, does not just bash them. She completely denigrates any experience of Postnatal Depression. It’s clear she read the research but I wonder if she bothered to even talk to any men who have experienced Paternal Postnatal Depression. Or frankly, if she even cares to, given her obvious feelings on the topic:

“The research from Oxford University is all about new fathers becoming stressed and depressed, their condition triggered by the sleepless nights, strain and the responsibilities of parenthood. I believe the official medical term for this is: “Pissed off, knackered and yearning to be carefree again.” “

The addition of an infant, to any relationship, is a difficult one. There are sleepless nights, there is strain, and there absolutely are responsibilities of parenthood. Some of us fight even darker demons after the birth of a child, regardless of our gender, regardless of how (or even if) we gave birth, and, regardless of our socioeconomic status.

I watched my former spouse fight Paternal Postnatal Depression as I fought my own battles with Postpartum OCD, Depression, and PTSD. His experience is no less valid than my own, and I certainly did not feel as Ms. Ellen states I should have felt,

“…were having to put up with such exhausting narcissists as partners – men incapable of hiding their sulky self-absorption…”

There’s an importance in acknowledging men with depression after the birth of a child. Why? Because men are far more likely than women to complete suicide. They are also more likely to TAKE THEIR FAMILIES WITH THEM.

This is not solely a male v. female issue. This is not men attempting to lay claim to “…a foul, debilitating condition directly related to the physical act of pregnancy and childbirth?” This is a family issue, just as it is with a mom. This is a mental health issue. Men, yes, are capable of experiencing depression. It doesn’t make them any less of a man, it doesn’t mean we suddenly have to contend with “male PND.” It means we should be understanding, accepting, and supportive of fathers, a group who is largely forgotten after the birth of a child and is simply assumed to carry on as if his life has not changed.

Men are more involved in the childbirth experience than ever before. They are in the delivery room, they are staying home to take care of their children, and they are engaging in their children’s lives. Why shouldn’t we acknowledge their struggle? Men experiencing emotion is not new. It’s simply not accepted by society and therefore brushed under the rug.

Let’s stop doing this.

As I told my son, who broke down in tears after Skyping with his Dad, it’s okay for him to cry. Anyone telling him any differently is wrong. It’s okay for a man to cry. It’s possible for a man to be depressed after the birth of a child – it’s not him feeling “pissed off, knackered, or yearning to be carefree.”

Stop giving ignorance a platform, dear media. Just stop.

#HAWMC: haiku, haiku, haiku

mothers, babies, snuggle
in quiet cover of night
lone tear slides down

whirlwind swirling round
fall down stand up breathe in out
exhausted collapse

bright blue sky overhead
clouds drift across as I stare
remembering peace

tiny leaf bud clings
tightly to branch, mother hug
yearning to escape

#HAWMC – Ekphrasis

(The picture I’m describing can be found here. The user disabled downloads of her work so I’m not able to share it with you on my blog post.)

Purple flowers hang upside down, surrounded by sharp green blades of grass, but it’s not how they’re meant to be seen. It’s how the camera sees them, how the artist sees them. It’s all a translation of beauty, seen from a different angle.

There’s a quote beneath the photo, “Life takes your dreams and turns them upside down.”

I can’t think of a better description for Postpartum Mood & Anxiety disorders, can you?

For many of us, we painstakingly plan our pregnancies, buy the right things for the nursery and laugh and giggle at our baby showers. Others may not feel the same way but hope to feel better once baby arrives, banking on birth to improve their mood. Still others are just struggling to adjust to even being pregnant as it’s unplanned.

Whatever your situation, there are hopes and dreams you have attached to the outcome of your current journey. When those hopes and dreams are dashed against the rocks by the trauma of a PMAD, things get a lot darker. You feel turned upside down and inside out. As if there’s no escape from the hell in which you’ve found yourself.

But, even in that darkness, even when you least feel it, just as those purple flowers, you are still beautiful. Flowers begin as a seed, some as a horrific bulb which is then planted in the dark earth, covered with dirt, and forced to fight it’s way out into the sun. Once it emerges, you don’t see the dirt for long. It shrugs it off and speeds toward the sun, toward blooming into a gorgeous thing of beauty. Flowers require care, sunlight, water, nourishment. They need to be tended to in order to bring joy to the world. Think of how bland the world would be without the colourful variations of flowers springing forth in even the most difficult of places.

You are not destined to spend eternity in that dark place. One day, you too, will burst forth, speed toward the sun, and bloom into a gorgeous blossom.

(This post written as part of WEGO Health’s Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge. You can check it out and join here: http://t.co/kp15ymv1)

#HAWMC: Why I write

After I fell down the rabbit hole so far that only a weekend in a mental hospital helped me, I realized I wanted one thing. To talk to another mom. I needed to know that my crazy wasn’t permanent. That I was okay, normal, and I would be well again. Even if I wasn’t going to be well again, I told myself, I need to know I’m not here in crazyland by myself.

During my stay, a psych nurse told me something which has stuck with me for over six years and I suspect will stay with me for quite some time. She told me I didn’t have to tell anyone where I had been that weekend. I know, you’re hearing the record scratch in your head too, right?

It’s a moment in my story I have discussed several times here at my blog. But it’s an important moment, I think, one which truly sums up the state of mental health awareness in our country, even among those who are involved in directly treating those struggling. The message it sends is chilling.

Sssshhhhhhhh. Don’t tell anyone you’ve been to the crazy house.

Why the fuck not?

Why would I remain quiet about this? Why do I deserve to be judged for something which is no more my fault than the breast cancer? Would a nurse dare tell a patient in for Chemo they don’t have to tell anyone where they’ve been?

I get that health is private, HIPAA and all that. We have a right to remain quiet about our health, physical or mental, but to suggest to someone that it’s absolutely not necessary to tell anyone where they’ve been is simply neurotic. This did not happen while signing papers or during admission. No, this happened during a casual conversation during my first day there.

What, was I supposed to go home and pretend I’d gone to Bermuda? Would I be given parting gifts to help fake my weekend tropical get away? Quite frankly, if they wanted me to believe I’d been in Bermuda, they should have given me stronger drugs. But I’ve digressed.

The more we give into this culture of silence and stigma surrounding mental health, the more we enable the stereotypes to stand. Yes, I had depression and a whole slew of other issues (OCD, PTSD, suicidal ideation, intrusive thoughts…) but you know what? I’m a perfectly normal person. I’m just like you. I think, I eat, I breathe, I function quite well most of the time. I hit a rough patch and needed help to get through it. It’s no different than someone being hospitalized for a serious injury or infection. At least, it shouldn’t be any different.

This is why I write. I write because it’s important to acknowledge that people with mental health issues aren’t of the insane Hollywood variety. We are normal people you see every day. We are your sisters, your wives, your cousins, your mothers, your aunts, your friends, your co-workers. We are human too. Treat us as such.

#HAWMC: If I had a superpower

I have a superpower.

It’s compassion.

When you hear the word “superpower” you think of a super hero able to leap buildings in a single bound or swing from building to building with just a web, fly at top speeds or change the weather to defend themselves.

Compassion is a superpower. Not everyone has the capacity for compassion. It’s a combination of things, really. The ability to listen beyond what someone is saying, to hear what they’re saying, and to make them feel safe in saying whatever they need to in order to help the hurt disappear. Compassion is making someone else feel heard, loved, and safe. It’s not judging their journey or their thoughts about their journey. Compassion is a skilled art, honed over time, but only if the person working toward this goal is blessed with the capacity for love and understanding to begin with.

I use my superpower every day to help new mothers as they struggle along the road of Postpartum Mood Disorders. I empower them to seek help, enable them to realize they are not alone, and provide a safe space in which they can flop down, sigh, and pour out all their worries, concerns, and questions.

I’m grateful for my superpower.