Baby Blues or PPD?

If someone had asked me before I gave birth to Lorenzo what it felt like to be depressed, I honestly would not have known how to answer them. This is my story of how I felt after giving birth for the second time, and the progress that I have made in dealing with my emotions afterwards.

As some of you would have read in Lorenzo’s birth story post, I did not have an easy delivery with him. After he was born, he was taken right away from me, as he was not breathing. He spent his first night in the Special Care Nursery, where I was not allowed to stay with him. We missed the most vital time together. We had no skin-to-skin contact, and he had only fed from me once. At the time, I knew he was where he needed to be, to make sure he was okay. But, it didn’t stop me from feeling as though I was abandoning him, and that I wasn’t going to be there when he needed me.

Complications kept arising after his birth. He required 48 hours of antibiotics, due to him and I both having high body temperatures during his delivery, to rule out any possible infections. This was performed as a precaution (it turned out that he was actually okay after we received his blood results, after the 48 hours). Just as we thought we were out of the woods, he developed Jaundice. This is highly common for babies that are delivered using forceps, due to the bruising on their heads. He required light therapy before we were able to be discharged home.

Because of the trauma during the birth, and then all of the complications afterwards, it took around five days for my milk to come in. We were having to supplement with formula in the hospital, to keep his blood sugar up. I felt as though the one thing I was supposed to do as a mother—I couldn’t do it. My body was under so much stress, and was trying to heal itself after delivery, it just couldn’t keep up with his demands.

I was emotional, I was stressed, and I was missing my first baby more than anything in this world. Those five days were the longest that I had ever been away from him, and it absolutely KILLED me!

When we finally got back home to Brisbane, things only went from bad to worse. I was constantly crying, and no matter what I did, I just couldn’t help it. Every single time I looked at Lorenzo, I pictured his limp body being pulled from me, and it haunted my thoughts. I would lay on my bed all day, and not move, and just cry. I couldn’t sleep, as when I closed my eyes again, I kept picturing him. I thought to myself, “Okay, I have the baby blues." I thought that it would pass in a week or so.

It didn’t go away. My emotions got worse. My sadness turned to anger, and the smallest things would make me so angry. I was lashing out at Paul because, in my mind, he just couldn’t do anything right. I would have to put Lorenzo down for a couple of minutes when he was crying, so that I could recoup myself. Sometimes, I would have to leave the room. I was lonely and resented Paul, because he got to leave the house every day—even if it was just to go to work. I had a fear of abandonment.

I was experiencing such vivid nightmares that I was too scared to go to sleep. I would dream that my house would burn down and I couldn't reach the kids, or I would have a car accident, or that someone would break into my house and harm the kids. I was exhausted from not sleeping, and the lack of sleep only made me more irritable.

It was at this point that I knew something wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal, and this wasn’t fair for me or my family. I wasn’t getting better, and I needed help. I understand that not everyone will come to these realisations on their own. I guess I was lucky that I was able to understand that if I didn’t speak out and seek help, I ran the risk of putting myself, and my family, in danger.

Depression can be so unpredictable, and going through this is the first time in my life that I understood how a parent could accidentally hurt their child. I knew in my head that I would never harm myself, or those around me, but I also knew that those parents would have thought that, too. I didn’t want to let the darkness take over and control me.

I had spoken with my child health nurse, who I had grown a close relationship with, who suggested that I needed to speak with a GP that I could trust to seek the help that I needed, so that I could put myself first. I made an appointment, without hesitation, with the GP that my nurse had recommended, and waited anxiously all weekend for my appointment.

Walking into the doctors office on that Monday morning was the most nerve-wracking thing I had ever done. I was so worried about the judgement, and them thinking that this made me lesser of a mother, incapable of looking after my babies. I pondered over thinking whether I was making the right decision.

Three weeks later, now from then, and I can tell you that I feel like an entirely new person. I still have a long way to go, but the change already is incredible. My doctor decided that it was in my best interest to start antidepressants right away at my appointment, and to see a therapist to talk through my trauma from Lorenzo’s birth.

I still have negative thoughts. But, instead of overthinking it and getting upset about it, I have another voice inside my head that is there to tell me that I don’t need to think that, and I can just shake it off. I can calm myself down if I do start to feel upset, and can see the brighter side of life.

I’m not some superhero with no feelings, and I definitely do still have my ups and downs through my process, and will have my days—especially going through therapy. But, for the first time, I feel really content with not only who I am, but also the life I am living—with no regrets.