To All Moms,
Our silence is killing us. Literally. Today, I wept at the loss of one of our own. A precious new mom who thought the postpartum depression she felt was wrong. Unable to understand the hand she had been dealt, she took her life. She leaves behind a loving husband, a baby girl, and a slew of family and friends who wish they had known.
As I wept, I wondered...how many other moms are struggling? Maybe the story isn't postpartum: maybe it's an empty nest, a child following a path you don't understand, a dream that looks different due to illness, parenting while grieving, parenting without a partner, mommy guilt...there are so many reasons we hurt. Suffering in silence because we don't want to intrude upon others. Suffering in silence out of fear.
How many other moms are waiting in the wings, ready to share with fellow comrades how they overcame adversities? Willing to share, but only when asked. Keeping silent because we don't want to intrude. Keeping silent out of fear.
Mamas...our stories, experiences, difficulties...they are worth sharing. Sharing boldly with each other. Reaching out both for help and to help.
So, today, I share one of my struggles for the one I wish had reached out for help...and for her friends who wish they had shared. Her story..."stuck" in a sea of depression...is also my story.
He was my last baby. Our family now "complete." Our rainbow baby born after a devastating loss. We gave him a strong name because God gave us him. And, less than 48 hours after he was born, I looked at him and thought, "This is not how I should be feeling right now. I should not be grieved in my spirit. I should be singing, 'It Is Well With My Soul.' I have really messed up this time." I cried tears as I put my sweet boy in his carseat for the first time. This baby I loved with all my heart, I didn't deserve. I was going to mess up his life forever. In fact, I thought I already had.
With two other children waiting excitedly for our return home, I was no stranger to postpartum blues. Those anxieties were rough and left me feeling momentarily defeated...and they passed after a couple weeks. This...this was so much different.
Within two days of being home, my three and five year olds most common phrase became, "Mommy, why are you crying AGAIN?" This made me cry more. I had ruined their lives, too. I began to envy them as they giggled and played. Wishing to be young again...longing for their naivety to be mine, too. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother envies her own children's joy? I thought I was an awful mother...unworthy of these sweet babes.
My husband became the target of all my anger. He didn't know whether to run or hold me when I started my tirades. I didn't know what he should do either. I said things to him that I would have never said before. I knew it was wrong, but I could not stop. I felt like I would explode. I thought he would be so much better off without me. I thought I was unlovable.
My anxiety was so extreme that I felt unable to breathe at times. I slept with all the lights on. I threw things. I had dizzy spells. I would stay on my bed, sobbing, for what felt like hours. It was during one of these moments that my husband said, "We are getting help."
I was terrified the doctor would think I was insane. Just the opposite...she reminded me that this was all very normal due to hormonal and life changes out of our control. I was placed on a low dose medication and advised to get counseling. Our first counseling inquiry fell through so I decided I didn't need it. Forgoing counseling was probably a big mistake because while the medicine helped with the anxiety, the depression came flooding in.
Months of not wanting to do anything, feeling like I was failing as a parent and wife, and making poor choices in several areas wore on me. I felt like my family deserved something better than myself. I replayed in my head every mistake I made over and over again. I walked around under a cloud of guilt, shame and anger. It was a dark, scary abyss and I thought I would live there forever.
Thankfully, my story doesn't end there. Others shared with me during my darkest hours. Members of my Bible Study shared their own experiences in parenthood. Other ladies at church mentioned their own daily struggles. Most didn't even know what I was going through; they were just being real in their own lives. Most have no clue that I listened intently. Watched them intently. I learned so much from them.
Some of those who were aware of my battle, jumped into the trench with me. My husband was my rock...the one responsible for getting many to pray...the one who held my hand...the one who endured the worst, but never left. My sister listened to all my thoughts...ALL my crazy thoughts and assured me over and over and over again that I was a good mom, a good wife, a good person. A sweet friend checked in daily and made sure weekly playdates (aka: Mommy Therapy) happened even when I didn't want to get out of the house. Another came over and cleaned my entire house while I was out of town and would take my children out for fun when she could sense I needed time. They offered their friendship and refused to let go. People prayed and encouraged me to pray and fight my negative thoughts. They reminded me I wasn't alone. Slowly, because of my "army" the tide began to shift. Ultimately, God - our Commander - got me through, but He used a great group of "soldiers" to help me through.
That precious baby that I thought I had ruined turned sixteen months old today. He is the most joyful baby in the world. He never meets a stranger. Two nights ago, he fell off a bed and had to get six stitches on his adorable little nose. I momentarily started to feel the guilt that was responsible for squelching life out of me for over 14 months of his life. "I was in the room...I should have seen it coming...He will always have a scar." I was able to stop those thoughts before they took a tight grip on me. The next day, that baby took his chubby little hands, cupped my face and said, "My mama!" before doling out kisses. This child - the one I loved when I couldn't love myself - he is absolutely fine. My struggles made him no worse for the ware. That's when I realized: it is finally well with my soul.
Sweet moms who feel like you are barely hanging on...your struggles are real. They are yours, but they are also ours. We can help you through because we have been through (and are going through). Don't be ashamed. You are not a bad mom. Will you share with someone? Will you reach out? We are listening. We need you.
Moms who have been in trenches that you are no longer in...will you reach out? Will you share your stories to moms of younger children so that they can grow? Will you admit your hardships that you had/that you have? We are listening. We need you.
*For those in the postpartum battle, who are unsure of where to turn, this website will you provide you with resources and other information: http://postpartumprogress.org. You are not alone.
Our silence is killing us. Literally. Today, I wept at the loss of one of our own. A precious new mom who thought the postpartum depression she felt was wrong. Unable to understand the hand she had been dealt, she took her life. She leaves behind a loving husband, a baby girl, and a slew of family and friends who wish they had known.
As I wept, I wondered...how many other moms are struggling? Maybe the story isn't postpartum: maybe it's an empty nest, a child following a path you don't understand, a dream that looks different due to illness, parenting while grieving, parenting without a partner, mommy guilt...there are so many reasons we hurt. Suffering in silence because we don't want to intrude upon others. Suffering in silence out of fear.
How many other moms are waiting in the wings, ready to share with fellow comrades how they overcame adversities? Willing to share, but only when asked. Keeping silent because we don't want to intrude. Keeping silent out of fear.
Mamas...our stories, experiences, difficulties...they are worth sharing. Sharing boldly with each other. Reaching out both for help and to help.
So, today, I share one of my struggles for the one I wish had reached out for help...and for her friends who wish they had shared. Her story..."stuck" in a sea of depression...is also my story.
He was my last baby. Our family now "complete." Our rainbow baby born after a devastating loss. We gave him a strong name because God gave us him. And, less than 48 hours after he was born, I looked at him and thought, "This is not how I should be feeling right now. I should not be grieved in my spirit. I should be singing, 'It Is Well With My Soul.' I have really messed up this time." I cried tears as I put my sweet boy in his carseat for the first time. This baby I loved with all my heart, I didn't deserve. I was going to mess up his life forever. In fact, I thought I already had.
With two other children waiting excitedly for our return home, I was no stranger to postpartum blues. Those anxieties were rough and left me feeling momentarily defeated...and they passed after a couple weeks. This...this was so much different.
Within two days of being home, my three and five year olds most common phrase became, "Mommy, why are you crying AGAIN?" This made me cry more. I had ruined their lives, too. I began to envy them as they giggled and played. Wishing to be young again...longing for their naivety to be mine, too. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother envies her own children's joy? I thought I was an awful mother...unworthy of these sweet babes.
My husband became the target of all my anger. He didn't know whether to run or hold me when I started my tirades. I didn't know what he should do either. I said things to him that I would have never said before. I knew it was wrong, but I could not stop. I felt like I would explode. I thought he would be so much better off without me. I thought I was unlovable.
My anxiety was so extreme that I felt unable to breathe at times. I slept with all the lights on. I threw things. I had dizzy spells. I would stay on my bed, sobbing, for what felt like hours. It was during one of these moments that my husband said, "We are getting help."
I was terrified the doctor would think I was insane. Just the opposite...she reminded me that this was all very normal due to hormonal and life changes out of our control. I was placed on a low dose medication and advised to get counseling. Our first counseling inquiry fell through so I decided I didn't need it. Forgoing counseling was probably a big mistake because while the medicine helped with the anxiety, the depression came flooding in.
Months of not wanting to do anything, feeling like I was failing as a parent and wife, and making poor choices in several areas wore on me. I felt like my family deserved something better than myself. I replayed in my head every mistake I made over and over again. I walked around under a cloud of guilt, shame and anger. It was a dark, scary abyss and I thought I would live there forever.
Thankfully, my story doesn't end there. Others shared with me during my darkest hours. Members of my Bible Study shared their own experiences in parenthood. Other ladies at church mentioned their own daily struggles. Most didn't even know what I was going through; they were just being real in their own lives. Most have no clue that I listened intently. Watched them intently. I learned so much from them.
Some of those who were aware of my battle, jumped into the trench with me. My husband was my rock...the one responsible for getting many to pray...the one who held my hand...the one who endured the worst, but never left. My sister listened to all my thoughts...ALL my crazy thoughts and assured me over and over and over again that I was a good mom, a good wife, a good person. A sweet friend checked in daily and made sure weekly playdates (aka: Mommy Therapy) happened even when I didn't want to get out of the house. Another came over and cleaned my entire house while I was out of town and would take my children out for fun when she could sense I needed time. They offered their friendship and refused to let go. People prayed and encouraged me to pray and fight my negative thoughts. They reminded me I wasn't alone. Slowly, because of my "army" the tide began to shift. Ultimately, God - our Commander - got me through, but He used a great group of "soldiers" to help me through.
That precious baby that I thought I had ruined turned sixteen months old today. He is the most joyful baby in the world. He never meets a stranger. Two nights ago, he fell off a bed and had to get six stitches on his adorable little nose. I momentarily started to feel the guilt that was responsible for squelching life out of me for over 14 months of his life. "I was in the room...I should have seen it coming...He will always have a scar." I was able to stop those thoughts before they took a tight grip on me. The next day, that baby took his chubby little hands, cupped my face and said, "My mama!" before doling out kisses. This child - the one I loved when I couldn't love myself - he is absolutely fine. My struggles made him no worse for the ware. That's when I realized: it is finally well with my soul.
Sweet moms who feel like you are barely hanging on...your struggles are real. They are yours, but they are also ours. We can help you through because we have been through (and are going through). Don't be ashamed. You are not a bad mom. Will you share with someone? Will you reach out? We are listening. We need you.
Moms who have been in trenches that you are no longer in...will you reach out? Will you share your stories to moms of younger children so that they can grow? Will you admit your hardships that you had/that you have? We are listening. We need you.
*For those in the postpartum battle, who are unsure of where to turn, this website will you provide you with resources and other information: http://postpartumprogress.org. You are not alone.
No comments:
Post a Comment