Photo courtesy of https://www.smartparenting.com.ph/
I thought I knew what it was. I did my research, read several articles about it and finished two books about the topic. But no book or article prepared me for the single, most depressing feeling in the world that got me to my lowest low. I wept every night, lost my appetite, refused to talk to my husband, had difficulty falling asleep and was very, very moody.
Postpartum depression did that to me.
Yes, that condition after giving birth that I never thought I would experience. I thought I was prepared for it. I didn’t realize I would be vulnerable to it. I was a very happy and generally active pregnant woman. Work was wonderful. No financial challenges, no personal issues. I was part of a volunteer storytelling group that made me do two of the things I loved the most—reading and storytelling. Every person I meet wished me and my two babies well.
Everything was great. Or so I thought.
But five days after the twins were born, I suddenly felt very lonely. I felt like my happiness was stolen and was replaced by hopelessness. It was terrible. Some unknown dark force was eating me up and I could not do anything about it. I looked at the twins and I cried. They are precious human beings given to me by the Heavenly Father and I am thankful for them.
But I felt that with their presence, my freedom was taken away from me. I felt so used up, tired and beaten. No, I did not think of drowning them or putting them in the oven (God, no!). I just did not like them. For three straight days, I was engulfed in that feeling of negativity.
One morning, as I was breastfeeding the twins, in my mind, one line reverberated—“I don’t like them.” That’s when I cried so hard. The worse thing was I knew the feeling was wrong but why can’t I control them. My husband woke up from my crying fest and asked one question, “Do you want to return them?” That question got me out of my shell and started opening up to him.
PPD is real. I used to think it is just a figment of the imagination. I thought it is just something that someone makes up out of whim or caprice. But it’s not. To succeed against PPD, let me share five things that I worked out with myself, a psychologist, and my husband.
1. Accept it.
When I first saw Nicholas and Antoinette, I thanked Heavenly Father for blessing us with two creatures that made me think of cotton candy, chocolate fondue and balloons. But five days after they were born and we went home, I was enveloped with a mixture of regret and anger. This can’t be right, I told myself. I convinced myself that I was fine. But I wasn’t. I was stubborn and refused help. First step? Accept the truth that you are experiencing it.
2. Talk about it.
My husband was my sounding board. He listened to everything I wanted and needed to say. We would pray together and ask for strength and guidance. Then came my psychologist friend who taught me breathing and calming exercises. It is important to have someone you trust to discuss this with. A friend, a family member or a close colleague may just be the person you need.
3. Scribble (or type) it.
I am a very lazy writer. It takes so much effort for me to get hold of a pen and a notepad to write things down. When I see my handwriting, I get more depressed. So during those trying times, I thanked Samsung several times for android phone. The Color Note app became my best friend and I just wrote in there anything I feel. Or I just took pictures of the twins and post them on Facebook with some caption. Amazing how the photos spread and people writing positive comments. It was very uplifting and made me more grateful.
4. Get out of the room.
And that means eating and taking a shower. It worked wonders for me. A weak body won’t help you recover. As a first-time Mom to two chubby cheeks, I needed the physical nourishment that I refused to take for two weeks. And to think I had emergency C-section. The bathroom was a welcome respite, too. I stayed as long as I want and indulged on different scents of bath gels and aromatic oil.
5. Get out of the house.
I watched movies. I did storytelling sessions. I visited the office. In my darkest days, one of my thoughts was, “I am not going to be me again because the children have swallowed me.” Well, hello?! You’re not dead. There are more responsibilities ahead and it is going to be an uphill climb, but it doesn’t mean that you have to give up everything that you enjoyed doing before the babies came into the picture. It was a helpful exercise— doing what I used to do before babies—because it gave me a chance to think about how I will manage my time later on.