The Caroline Chronicles

Today I am going to share an in depth and realistic look at the PPA and PPD that has existed in my mothering journey over the last 6 years. It will be honest and perhaps difficult, so if this is something that you struggle with, I encourage you to read with caution, and please take care of yourself mama!

Throughout my pregnancy with Jonah, and especially in the final weeks leading up to his delivery, my birthing team would frequently check upon my mental health. I was made aware of postpartum depression and what it might look like in my life with the arrival of my son. There was no shame, only genuine concern, that I want to make clear. And much to my pleasure, it seemed that I was free of that particular burden with Jonah’s arrival and in the weeks thereafter. In fact, throughout my first year of motherhood, I detected nothing that resembled what I would’ve considered to be the ‘baby blues’.

This is important, so listen close…

There is a lack of general understanding in our society on things like depression and anxiety. I’d expected that if I were experiencing postpartum depression, it might present as general sadness… Perhaps a feeling of dread in my gut. And now I know that those two things can be symptoms of depression, but it is so much more complex than that!

For me, it started out as this persistent, irrational fear that something might happen to Jonah. If he left my sight, I worried relentlessly until he was back within my arms. I couldn’t sleep comfortably at night for fear that if I closed my eyes, he might stop breathing, or someone somehow could break through our very locked front door and take him. I even once moved his co-sleeper away from the window facing side of our bed because I was convinced that aliens were going to take him. I’m telling you… There is a little rationality behind the anxiety that started to plague my mind.

When I talked about these things to my friends, they would tell me that I just needed to stop worrying. *insert sarcastic laugh here*. Of course, I know that they meant well, and there was a time in my life before motherhood when I probably would’ve said the same thing. But I cannot stress enough how much it is just not that simple!

I wanted to trust in my ability as a mother, and of course I wanted to trust in my husband and my family when they offered to look after my son so that I could get a much needed break. But the insistent nagging inside my head just would not ease! At times I felt like I was going crazy. I doubted myself as a mother every single day, and before long terrible thoughts began to loom in my mind…

“You don’t look like a mother, your face is too young!” “You shouldn’t have had a baby until you owned a home!” “You’re not losing the baby weight fast enough!” “You aren’t reading to Jonah enough, what if he becomes illiterate!” “All the other moms you know are doing it so much better!”

I literally couldn’t breathe at times. The self doubt and the negative thoughts just snowballed month after month until I fell into this dark and dissociative space that I couldn’t seem to describe to anybody. Some days were fine, I could get out of bed, walk with my son at the park, make a home-cooked meal for my family, and genuinely enjoy myself. Then there would be a string of days when I would just lie on the couch, feeling the weight of everything around me and having absolutely no will to do anything about it. I often felt like a failure to my family and to myself, and when I dared to utter that particular thought out loud to anybody, they would give me this look as though I should know better than to say something like that out loud. Unfortunately, I learned to just stop talking about these things at all. I was tired of the judgment, whether it was real or only perceived. And like a lot of people in our society, I tucked away these feelings and hid them from the world so as to avoid the inevitable scrutiny.

It was during a high point that I became pregnant with Lily. I was doing generally okay so I rationalized that it was time to give Jonah a sibling. During my first prenatal visit with my midwife, much to my credit, I actually disclosed some of the negativity that had loomed over my life in the last few years as a mother. I explained the anxiety that I felt, and for the first time I understood, with her gentle guidance, that I was experiencing PPD. She encouraged me to be truthful with her in the coming months, that “postpartum depression has a nasty habit of bubbling up again in subsequent pregnancies.”

And she was right…

I can’t say what influenced my PPD exactly. How it seemed to disappear for weeks at a time and then crash down on me over night, sometimes lasting for months. I ate well and I exercised regularly (thanks almost entirely to my very wild toddler). It was just this mysterious fog that descended over my life at any given time.

I was never in a place financially to start something like therapy. I didn’t have any friends who lived close enough to watch the kids for me to attend any sessions anyways… My doctor eventually put me on a couple of different medications, lots of trial and error until we found something that worked. That made a much greater difference than I was expecting! I went from having breakdowns and anxiety attacks at any given moment, to feeling somewhat calmed and regulated. It was no substitute for therapy I agree, but it was the best I could do for myself at the time. And if I’m being honest, it’s still the best I can do for myself…

We’ve moved a lot in the last few years, I’ve started going back to work to make some extra money, Jonah has started school, Lily was recently diagnosed with level three autism, and our lives are in a constant whirlwind it seems!

All I ever wanted was to become a mother, so I do believe to a certain extent that I have a lot to be grateful for. Josh and I never had any trouble conceiving, and through everything we have managed to take care of our children, giving them a safe and comfortable home. I find often that my children teach me more than I teach them. It’s the way that they find joy in the tiniest things and how they are so full of love and wonder. My incredibly empathetic son somehow always knows when I most need a hug, and I have to be honest, his hugs are the most healing hugs in the world!

I don’t believe that motherhood is something that happened to me, as though it’s the sole cause for my PPA and PPD. Motherhood is not some rampant disease that plagues our society. It is beautiful and perhaps one of the most inspiring seasons of my life! I personally believe that there is a lot of trauma in my past, yet to be dealt with I will note, that has perhaps been triggered by the lack of support and control that I have in this season of life. Mothers are outrageously under supported in our society, as I’ve stated before. We receive scrutiny from all ends, we are given the bare minimum time away from work to heal and bond with our babies. We are wrong for working… we are wrong for staying at home… And we are so, so desperately alone!

We are expected to be grateful and find joy in the children that we’ve brought into the world, and I can assure you, as a mother who has no greater love than that for her children, the issue is not the love between a mother and her child. But a mother’s worth is greater than just that which is placed in her ability to care-take and home-make.

For the time being, I’m finding a lot of relief in writing! My mind is often bursting with thoughts and ideas. I am tired beyond belief, and sometimes I wonder how I will make it through the day, but I can say with honesty that having the space right here is my own special kind of therapy.

If you are struggling with postpartum depression or anxiety, or if you are yet to be a mother and you just need a place to find love and support, please reach out to me! If the best we can do is build community, we will be off to a great start!

Thank you for reading, love and hugs to everyone!

*All grammar mistakes and misspellings sponsored by a mothers exhaustion*