I have always wanted to be a mother. I was over the moon when I found out I was pregnant in September of 2009 and completely heartbroken when I miscarried around 6 weeks. Needless to say I was cautiously optimistic when I saw those two pink lines again on January 12, 2010. I had a fairly uneventful pregnancy, not counting the bright red bleeding scare early on.
I had no way of knowing how I would feel after Weston arrived. I attribute a lot of how I felt to the c-section. I was not prepared to miss out on the way I had always envisioned my child entering this world. It has been hard for me to deal with letting go of those lost moments but I'm working on it.
I was in complete denial for the first two months. I don't know, maybe I thought it was just the "baby blues" that we so often hear about. I should have known better when I wrote this:
Friday, 05 November 2010
Angry
I had this post set to private and struggled with changing that. Maybe it will help to know that someone out there may read this. This is not fun to read and I didn't sugarcoat anything. It is however very real. Here goes...
Angry...that is how I feel right now. I think I am going through a strange grieving process right now and I am at the angry stage. The sad stage lasted for a really long time but now, now I'm just angry. I'm angry at everyone and everything. Nothing seems to take away the pain and the anger that I am feeling and that just makes me more, well, angry.
I'm angry about the birth first and foremost. I'm angry that it didn't go the way I wanted, no, needed it to go. I'm angry that I am now a statistic. I'm angry that I may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that my doctor may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that things just may have been out of everyone's hands and that I would have had a cesarean no matter what anyone did or didn't do. I'm angry with everyone that pressured me to have him by a certain point. I was perfectly fine going overdue but everyone else thought we should induce which may have been the reason I ended up with a cesarean.
I'm angry that my memory of Weston's birth is a sad one and that it will forever be tainted by being cut open. I'm angry that there is a very real possibility that I will never be able to experience the birth that I dream of. One where I labor for hours and my body pushes the baby out the way it is intended to happen. One where my baby is placed immediately on me after my body works so hard to bring my child into this world. One where I am able to immediately bond with my baby and breastfeed and do what is natural. I'm angry that that may never happen.
I'm angry that I feel so guilty for the way I feel. I'm angry that no one seems to notice that I'm struggling and I'm particularly angry that I feel like everyone has disappeared. I'm angry that my body failed me and that I failed my first born. I'm angry that I can never do it again or do it over. I can never have my first child again. I can never be excited about the birth again.
I'm angry that I'm not pregnant still and I'm really angry at anyone that is. I'm angry that I will never be able to feel him inside me again. I'm even more angry with anyone that gets to have "my" birth.
I'm angry that I can't seem to get anything done. I'm angry at Mike all the time and then I'm angry that I'm so angry with him and I can't seem to stop it. I'm angry with him for so many things but don't know what those things are. I'm angry that we live here. I'm angry that I have to go back to work. I'm angry that he can't seem to do anything about it. That he can't just make it work so that I can raise my child instead of some daycare provider that we don't even know. I'm angry that I have been so focused on this and it isn't even here yet.
I'm angry that my hospital stay was so hard after I "gave birth". I'm angry that no one helped me breastfeed when I asked them to in the beginning. I'm angry that I broke down in front of the other happy moms in the breastfeeding class while Weston wailed because he was so hungry after TWO full days of not eating. I'm angry that it took me breaking down to get some help. I'm angry that I just remember feeling so sad while we were in the hospital. I'm angry that I didn't feel overjoyed after I had my first baby, instead I felt sad. I'm angry that I felt like I had to and still have to hide these feelings.
I'm angry with everyone that came to visit us that made things difficult because they couldn't be adults and make their own travel arrangements. I'm angry that certain people made the first couple of weeks with Weston difficult.
I'm angry that nothing seems to be easy for me. I'm angry that I had to experience a miscarriage before Weston and that I can't wish it didn't happen because then he wouldn't be here. I'm angry at the way things happened in my childhood. I'm angry that I'll never get my childhood back and that I had to grow up so quickly.
I'm angry that I feel so angry right now instead of cherishing this precious time with Weston. I'm angry that I KNOW I will never be able to get this time back with him but that I can't just move on and be my happy self again. I'm angry that I've already lost so much time to being angry. I'm angry that I am not happy anymore and can't remember what that feels like. I'm angry that I probably need help but can't bring myself to ask for it.
Most of all, I'm angry that Weston has this "new"me for a mom. I don't know what to do. I don't feel like there is anyone out there that I can turn to. I know Mike wants to be there for me but I feel like I can't let him. I feel like such a failure as a wife, a mother, a person...oh and I'm angry at that too.
Angry...that is how I feel right now. I think I am going through a strange grieving process right now and I am at the angry stage. The sad stage lasted for a really long time but now, now I'm just angry. I'm angry at everyone and everything. Nothing seems to take away the pain and the anger that I am feeling and that just makes me more, well, angry.
I'm angry about the birth first and foremost. I'm angry that it didn't go the way I wanted, no, needed it to go. I'm angry that I am now a statistic. I'm angry that I may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that my doctor may have made choices that led to the cesarean. I'm angry that things just may have been out of everyone's hands and that I would have had a cesarean no matter what anyone did or didn't do. I'm angry with everyone that pressured me to have him by a certain point. I was perfectly fine going overdue but everyone else thought we should induce which may have been the reason I ended up with a cesarean.
I'm angry that my memory of Weston's birth is a sad one and that it will forever be tainted by being cut open. I'm angry that there is a very real possibility that I will never be able to experience the birth that I dream of. One where I labor for hours and my body pushes the baby out the way it is intended to happen. One where my baby is placed immediately on me after my body works so hard to bring my child into this world. One where I am able to immediately bond with my baby and breastfeed and do what is natural. I'm angry that that may never happen.
I'm angry that I feel so guilty for the way I feel. I'm angry that no one seems to notice that I'm struggling and I'm particularly angry that I feel like everyone has disappeared. I'm angry that my body failed me and that I failed my first born. I'm angry that I can never do it again or do it over. I can never have my first child again. I can never be excited about the birth again.
I'm angry that I'm not pregnant still and I'm really angry at anyone that is. I'm angry that I will never be able to feel him inside me again. I'm even more angry with anyone that gets to have "my" birth.
I'm angry that I can't seem to get anything done. I'm angry at Mike all the time and then I'm angry that I'm so angry with him and I can't seem to stop it. I'm angry with him for so many things but don't know what those things are. I'm angry that we live here. I'm angry that I have to go back to work. I'm angry that he can't seem to do anything about it. That he can't just make it work so that I can raise my child instead of some daycare provider that we don't even know. I'm angry that I have been so focused on this and it isn't even here yet.
I'm angry that my hospital stay was so hard after I "gave birth". I'm angry that no one helped me breastfeed when I asked them to in the beginning. I'm angry that I broke down in front of the other happy moms in the breastfeeding class while Weston wailed because he was so hungry after TWO full days of not eating. I'm angry that it took me breaking down to get some help. I'm angry that I just remember feeling so sad while we were in the hospital. I'm angry that I didn't feel overjoyed after I had my first baby, instead I felt sad. I'm angry that I felt like I had to and still have to hide these feelings.
I'm angry with everyone that came to visit us that made things difficult because they couldn't be adults and make their own travel arrangements. I'm angry that certain people made the first couple of weeks with Weston difficult.
I'm angry that nothing seems to be easy for me. I'm angry that I had to experience a miscarriage before Weston and that I can't wish it didn't happen because then he wouldn't be here. I'm angry at the way things happened in my childhood. I'm angry that I'll never get my childhood back and that I had to grow up so quickly.
I'm angry that I feel so angry right now instead of cherishing this precious time with Weston. I'm angry that I KNOW I will never be able to get this time back with him but that I can't just move on and be my happy self again. I'm angry that I've already lost so much time to being angry. I'm angry that I am not happy anymore and can't remember what that feels like. I'm angry that I probably need help but can't bring myself to ask for it.
Most of all, I'm angry that Weston has this "new"me for a mom. I don't know what to do. I don't feel like there is anyone out there that I can turn to. I know Mike wants to be there for me but I feel like I can't let him. I feel like such a failure as a wife, a mother, a person...oh and I'm angry at that too.
I was obviously in denial. How could someone not see that they needed help after writing something like that. I will say that I think this was my absolute low point.
Not too long after this post, we had Weston's 2 month appointment. The pediatrician's office runs a ppd screening on all new moms. Initially, I wanted to lie on the form. My thinking was that I could handle it on my own. That was obviously not the case so I decided to be honest. They told me that I needed to call my OB's office right away. I had to do it that day or I would chicken out.
I am so glad that I called. I was a blubbering mess on the phone when I spoke to the nurse practitioner. She was very sweet and made sure that I was ok that day and that I didn't want to hurt myself or Weston (which, by the way, was never the case).
She decided that I needed to come in and talk to them so she scheduled me for early the next morning. As soon as I got into the room, I lost it again. We talked for a while and she prescribed Zoloft. I was a bit hesitant to take the medication. Once again I started wondering how something so wonderful could cause me to need to take medication to feel somewhat normal! In the end, I took it and am still taking it today.
I am by no means cured. I struggle every day to stay above this imaginary line of falling so far that I feel I will never recover. Some days, I slip up. Some day,s it's just too much. When that happens, I go in and give my sweet little boy a kiss and focus on this little person that I love more than I could ever explain.
This blog is not going to be a ppd blog but I do feel the need to talk about it sometimes. People, including me, seem to be ashamed of ppd as well as normal depression and don't talk about it. One of the most helpful things for me is to hear that I am not alone. It is also helpful to be reminded that this is not something that I caused and that it can happen to anyone.
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