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Hi, my name is BuzzyBat00517. I've been diagnosed with postpartum depression
Hi everyone. I am a mother of 3 girls, ages 10, 12, and 15. I suffered with postpartum depression after my 2nd, and I don’t think it every went away.. if that’s possible? I’m looking for a support group to talk about some of my feelings through motherhood and see if anyone else can relate. I feel like it’s almost like grief, like I had babies and I was needed, and then I woke up one day and they were all grown and my babies were gone ☹️ I love my girls, and I love seeing them grow and learn and thrive… I just feel like a bit lost. It’s almost like I’ve been trying to catch up and I can never get caught up because I don’t want to leave our old life behind? I don’t know, This might not be making any sense at all.. it’s hard to put words to.
Does anyone know of a place where children of mentally ill parents can talk to other kids? I had a year long psychotic episode when my kids were four and six. My symptoms started when I was 36, before that I just had postpartum depression and maybe 2 years of cyclothymia. I had nothing until I was in my early 30s. My kids dad and I had a very rough start to coparenting and divorce and joint custody and extended family support after I got out of the hospital. It was a difficult two
months, especially for my younger one. I was a stay at home mom and very close to my children. Their dad had his own emotional problems after my second was born and was acting threatening so I didn’t push him to bond the way he did with my daughter. It took time for all of us to adjust to him being the primary caregiver while I got back in touch with reality. I can parent when I’m not stable, but I can’t do it when I’m psychotic.
We’ve talked about it and the kids are older now (9 and 11) and doing well, but that can’t have been easy. At this point my ex and I are amicable
and have been coparenting smoothly for four years. We may not agree on everything, but we communicate well and agree about the children. We just naturally fell back into a pattern of me being primary caregiver when I stabilized.
Every time I find a story about kids growing up with a parent who acted like I did it’s a complete disaster and the parent never gets better. But most mental illness stories aren’t as extreme
as bipolar one with psychotic features if the parent is doing well.
I’ve been looking for stories similar to what my kids went through so they have someone to talk to and realize the aren’t alone.
Anyway if any one knows of a group for children of mentally ill parents to be able to talk to other kids I’d really appreciate it.
From the moment your baby is born, they are held by many hands - yours, your partners, nurses, doctors, family members - but who holds the mother?
Your baby is cared for, checked on, tests given -
but who checks on the mother?
I was forgotten.
They say that from the moment your child is born, you are instantly connected and in love - but what happens when you only get less than a minute to hold your baby and by the time you finally do you feel empty?
You see, my son was born a month early, due to my medical condition he had to be - my body, the place that was supposed to keep him safe, wasn’t. He was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck twice - I held him in my arms for less than a minute when they noticed he was having difficulty breathing and then he was taken into the NICU. Two moments that will live with me forever are me sitting in my hospital room without my baby, and several days later the empty car seat in the back as my husband and I drove home because our son wasn’t able to leave NICU yet.
The entire experience did something to me, it changed me, and with each passing day I became less of the version I’ve always known myself to be.
Postpartum depression hit me hard. I felt like I was in a room, surrounded by people, screaming for help, but no sound would come out. How is it that my mind was constantly racing with thoughts, but my voice was silenced? I didn’t even feel like it was my life that I was living, as if I was watching a movie, my life was playing on the screen, but I wasn’t truly living it. Most days, it felt like work to physically lift my body out of bed, let alone breastfeed (which I pressured myself into because society has told me that I’m an awful mom if I don’t), hold my baby, eat, or even drink water - I just wanted my bed to swallow me whole and relieve me of this overwhelming sense of nothingness. I felt certain that my family would be better off not having me around, my dark messy cloud pouring rain all over them.
I’m not sure what was worse, the hollowness inside of my body or the excruciating guilt from having this amazing baby and not feeling like I could connect to him. I’ve spoken to many women before, women that shared my struggles, that have experienced the very thing that I was and where I showed them compassion, I had none of that stored for me. I was a failure.
I was given a lot of well-intentioned advice: Go for a walk, play with your baby more, pray, go to church, find a hobby, just wake up and choose to be happy - but what no one understood was that I was drowning and no amount of forced positivity was going to remove me from the dark hole my mind crawled itself into. All of this advice that was given to me, any and everything except for what I really needed which was Zoloft and talk therapy. Those were the things that I personally needed, but there is so much shame around mental illness and medications that I deprived myself of the help I needed because I was more worried about the opinions of others. Now, I was failing myself.
By the time I had my 6-week postpartum checkup, my depression had gotten so bad that I was pretty sure that at any moment I was going to be eaten alive from the inside out, by the monster it had become. I finally decided it was time for help and completed the survey provided to me as openly and honestly as possible, and I’m so glad that I did.
I didn’t start my medication on a Friday and feel like a brand-new woman by Saturday - this was not a get better fast process, it was going to take time and patience. At first, it felt like I had the flu, and I was suddenly more tired than ever, and I really wanted to give up. But the first day the medication began to work, it was as if my vision was suddenly clearer. I slowly started to find it easier to get out of bed, and with every day that passed I began to feel lighter and laughed more. My senses were heightened - the air was crisper, the sun shined brighter, and I was able to look at my son and feel so greatly connected to him, and revel in his warmth and scent. I was beginning to feel like me again. I was beginning to feel like a whole person.
When I look back at that time, there are a few things I wish would have been different:
I wish that mothers were checked on before their 6-week appointment, and definitely more than once. We need to hold the baby AND the mother. Our bodies just went through this earth-shattering journey, our lives are drastically changing, we’re sleep-deprived, hormonal, and we are no longer living for ourselves - we need to be held.
I wish that there wasn’t a stigma against mental illness and medications, we should all be able to openly get the help that we need. Sure, things like exercise and sunlight can be helpful, but they are not the only solutions, and they definitely weren’t the only solutions for me.
I wish that I gave myself more grace - why do we never grant ourselves the same love and care that we do to others?
Lastly, I wish that there wasn’t so much societal pressure to be perfect. Does anyone do everything right? We’re all flawed. No one can do everything right 100% of the time. It’s not possible and putting that pressure on ourselves to be perfect is only setting us up for failure (admittedly, I’m still working on this one).
I am not a perfect mom or person; I’ll probably never be and that’s okay - sings to myself “I can see clearly now the rain is gone…”.
I called my OBGYN yesterday and so they made me an appointment for today because I told them I think I have Post Partum. It was with a new Dr. I told her how severe my depression is right now to the point I’m crying every single day multiple times a day, can’t do anything because I’m just not interested, having severe panic attacks, jumping at every single tiny noise etc… Told her how overwhelmed I am. I can’t even focus on anything like watching tv. She said there’s nothing she can do because I’m already on 200mg of Zoloft and 200mg of Lamictal. I don’t understand why not try a different medicine? Do something but if I’m asking for help and you turn me away and recommend going on psychology.com or something. I was on Prozac years ago and it stopped working so my old Dr. switched me to Zoloft and it’s worked for almost 5 years now! Maybe it just stopped working. Idk She’s like we don’t like to perscribe stronger anxiety medicine because of peoples tendency to get addicted. Well what about people who need them?!! Like you try waking up in the morning and having your heart racing and feeling like you can’t breathe and hiding under the covers because you feel absolutely terrified of having to go another day or sometimes no reason at all! Then have these attacks multiple times a day! It took so much for me to go out today and ask for help. I almost canceled this morning because I was terrified of the thought of my having to go somewhere by myself. I was hoping at least for some help until I can get in to see a psych doctor next month! So now what?! I just live every single day like this until hopefully next month I can actually get help! I literally answered all the questions on the scale of having post partum except wanting to hurt other people because I’d never hurt another person! Just frustrated. Thank you for listening and Izzy says hi ❤️ #Depression #Anxiety #PostpartumDepression
Today the veil is lifting.
Fleeting moments of intense optimism and excitement.
I get to see my son get older and wow at how he’ll be.. imagining the conversations we’ll have and looking forward to all the happy memories we’ll make. It feels crazy at how positive I can feel in one moment when yesterday I could barely hold my head up. Feeling opposite ends of the spectrum so intensely within 24hours can’t be “normal” can it? It’s not. I know it’s not. But is this more than depression? Do I maybe have bipolar? I’ve read many account of people who went undiagnosed before.. Is this the bpd that I was diagnosed with in the past? I have found it so so hard to accept that one and I feel so vulnerable writing it down. Just saying depression and anxiety has always been easier.
Anyway. I’m here to say the veil is lifting and remind anyone in a similar situation (specifically my post yesterday) that the veil does lift. It always does. Even though in the moment it feels like it never will.
I’m here to remind myself also that this has just been a very very hard episode and I’ve had these episodes and periods before. It always gets better. The sun will follow the rain ✨
Not wanting to be here.
This being a near constant
An, every other day feeling
What’s the point?
What’s the point of trying to put into words?
So when I’m not here, my son can know..
It was nothing to do with him.
It was everything to do with this plague, this cancer, this curse.
I worry that all my wishings to not be here will actually take me away from him sooner than he can cope. And I can’t bear to think of him suffering because of me. I can’t bear to think of him feeling alone in this world. Wanting me. Wondering.
I am sitting here breastfeeding him. Hating myself for these thoughts. Worrying they are somehow passing onto him. Wanting to stop breastfeeding in every moment, just get him off me for fear of him “picking” this up. Trying to think of other things but these are not just thoughts. This is feeling. This is embodied. Me. I can’t get away from it. Nothing else feels quite as real or familiar anymore. The thought of wanting to put him down upsets me because I know one day we won’t be here. Never being this close to have him feed at my breast and I resent myself for wanting to stop. But my back also hurts and I feel so frustrated!
I hate who I am these days. I hate who I’ve become. Always moaning. Always annoyed. Always on the edge of pissed offness. Always tired. Exhausted. Not wanting to be here. All the time. Can’t be bothered. Don’t care. Caring too much. I don’t know. Doubting myself. Criticising myself. Criticising others. Tired. So tired. Always tired. Feeling weak. Pathetic. Miserable. Then, when I have come away from being with others, how fake I feel. They see the best mum ever. They see a positive, inspiring, encouraging, nurturing, caring friend. They see lovely, so lovely, so kind, considerate and thoughtful. Because I am. I know I am those things aswell but I feel like that’s me only 20% of the time now.
With my son I know I am so patient, kind, loving, nurturing, everything good in me most of the time. It’s as soon as he goes down for a nap and I curl up on the sofa I let a little bit of the heaviness out. Within minutes of my partner being home and having a go at him because I am genuinely so irritated. I sit on the floor and play with my son and I’m only physically there. Inside I am sad. I stare at his face and feel a sense of wonder. I watch him and feel awe. He comes over to me and I feel love. This is why I could watch him all day. This is why I record him so much. Because he is the only thing I feel genuine joy at these days. So why do I feel so bad when I am with him all day and I do get to watch him all day. Because of me and my lack of energy and my moods and how I FEEL inside. Having to do housework. Having to leave the house. Having to do things just feels like such an inconvininece to me all of the time.
This is obviously severe/chronic depression and in some ways I think I accept it but for the most part I don’t and can’t. It feels too unfair and I don’t want to accept this is my reality and will be my reality for the rest of my life. I don’t want to have to take a hundred supplements a day and be radical in getting exercise and diet just to maintain a balanced-ish way of being. I just want to be normal and fine.
After 2 months of my ex disappearing he finally came to see the kids yesterday and meet our newborn for the first time. He basically just walked in my bedroom out of nowhere while I was asleep and we all were napping! He played with the kids and held the baby one time. He didn’t say anything to me or even barely look at me! I had so much to say and tell him but I couldn’t get anything out. It was just so much pain and I couldn’t say anything. I was hoping he would say something first but he didn’t. After 3 hrs he left he kissed all the kids and the baby goodbye. He went to leave without even saying anything to me. I started crying and told him I loved him and he didn’t say anything back. I went to kiss him and he turned his head so I could kiss his cheek. It crushed my heart after all these years nothing and I don’t even know what I did!!! I’ve been crying all day. I feel like how can I hold this together with 5 kids and a 2 month old! I honestly am sooo tired and don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t give up because of my kids but I want to so bad! He still thinks I am going to call the cops on him and am planning stuff against him which I’m not. I know he had a mental breakdown but I miss the old him! I text him that I got a notice from the landlord on the door! Finally he text me saying he would pay the bills for the kids so we won’t get evicted until I find something cheaper. That’s a big load off my shoulders because that was one of the main things I was worrying about us being homeless! #Anxiety #Depression #PostpartumDepression
Hi, my name is Sara. Wanting to surround myself with fellow humans in our walk to live every day as deeply and intentionally as we can. Even if that means just waking up.
Wife. Mother. Stepmom. Author. Photographer. Farmer. Seeker. Believer. (and cow, cheese, and cat enthusiast).
#MightyTogether #Anxiety #Depression #PostpartumDepression #AnorexiaNervosa #emetophobia #ptsd #emotionaltrauma #religioustrauma
Hi, my name is kelleyspencerwrites. I'm here because I have a family history of mental illness and have battled anxiety, depression and panic disorder for over a decade. I'm a published author writing my first nonfiction book about my experience with mental illness aimed at helping women of faith find healing.