A common misconception about postpartum depression is that many believe it can only appear a few weeks after birth. A mother shares her story of postpartum depression that set in – months – later than expected.
I had a healthy pregnancy. A healthy birth. And other than the usual low moments here and there, I had a generally healthy postpartum. I’m fine. It’s really fine. Not impressive. But not bad at all. All right. I’m seven months postpartum.
Editor’s note: All PMADs (perinatal mood and anxiety disorders) are treatable with the right support and care. Please don’t hesitate to ask for help navigating your experience, whether it’s from friends, family, or a trusted professional.
Story of a mother with postpartum depression
Seven months into motherhood, depression hit me like a bulldozer out of nowhere. Here I thought all these hormonal dips would just hit me for the first three or four months, and after that, I’d be fine and dandy and back to my happy self again.
But that is not the case.
It’s no one’s fault, but I wish the “postpartum period” wasn’t medically marked for just the first six weeks after birth but extended throughout the first year.
It seems like an unreasonable expectation to meet.
Because I didn’t recognize “normal” according to the internet, I feel like I’m going crazy and something is wrong with me, like hyper-obsessing why my wallet and phone are missing. No lie, I thought it might be early onset dementia when it showed its face to me.
I know “mom brain” is an actual thing, but I feel like I have mom brain to the extreme. I lose my wallet and phone more than twice a day. I was talking to a friend, and about seven words in the back of my mind.
Everything around me is slowly moving. But at the same time, I felt that the world was moving, and I was stuck in place. It’s strange.
This mind is no longer mine. So whose is it? The fog is thick. It covers every nook and cranny of my brain. I needed to know what was wrong with me, what brought me here in the first place.
I fixed everything, but nothing stuck.
How I discovered it wasn’t just “mom brain” but rather, postpartum depression
It was only the first week that I thought I was sick. Then I got better. By the second week I felt it was my husband’s stressors at work.
By the third week, I thought it was because of me weaning too quicklythat threw off my hormones.
By the fourth week, I thought it was because I was finally coming down six months of adrenaline and found myself finally processing the fact that I got married, six months later got pregnant, and nine months later gave birth.
And even though it wasn’t a traumatic event, it was one that my brain couldn’t keep up with the fast pace of my life.
In the fifth week, I just finished I accepted that I had anxiety and depression because there is no simple rhyme or reason to feel so disgusted.
I had to live without feeling myself at this point. I know it’s hormonal, but there’s a very critical voice in the back of my head that says, “It’s been seven months, Kelly; You should be perfectly healthy and normal by now. Put it together.”
Get help and take steps to heal
Fighting these thoughts and feelings only makes it worse. So I gave up on them.
I told my wife at 3 am, “Only love can give me this, babe.” The next day I realized that instead of fighting my hormones, I had to go along for the ride with them. I had to have them take me where they wanted me to go.
As someone who witnessed her body give birth to someone, I firmly believe that the body is capable. Therefore, it knows what it is doing and how to find its way back to a healthy equilibrium.
So through spurts of anxiety and long days of depression, I let these hormonal waves carry me with the current of the river with them and trusted that I was about to spit in the calm water. Perhaps this change in perspective helped.
But what I’m going to tell you helped me more.
It was Tuesday morning, and my husband and I had been longing for a real community to surround us for the past four months. But being new parents made it easy for us to keep pushing it.
I woke up and didn’t think I’d gotten out of bed that morning. But I have to take care of my beloved girl. I had to get up; I have no choice. So I did.
And you bet I celebrated that win! It’s the small victories, you know? They should be celebrated! I even made my bed. Second victory. And taking care of my sweet baby girl, who gave me nothing but smiles and laughed that day. Victory number three.
So with such progress on a day where I thought I might die, my wife and I felt that the night was right finally attended this community group hosted by our friend while my mom watched Gracie.
Let’s just say that night felt like a new breath was restored to my lungs.
At the end of our time sharing and listening to each other’s stories, someone asked the group if anyone in the room needed prayer. I could feel the heat moving in my heart, almost as if something was moving in my body urging me to speak. So I did.
My lips began to tremble; tears began to roll down my cheeks, and my sobbing quickly became a hyperventilation of, “I’m dealing with depression and anxiety, and I feel so alone.”
And the group of 12 people just gave me precious space to let it all out. I sobbed for five minutes straight. A friend came over, put his arm around me, and rubbed my back.
Even if it feels weak, my spirit needs it. My spirit needs to be seen and heard by those around me. My spirit needs to breathe again. I had to catch my breath again. I just have to be honest with where I am. Not as an obligation to the group but more than myself.
And… three days later, I saw the light again. My instinct was right when I said, “Love always wins.”
A letter for you, new mother
Dear mothers,
Hormones can pop up and hit you out of nowhere first year, not just in the first two months. Give your body grace, and know that it’s okay if things hit you later in the game.
When you’re feeling down, celebrate small victories, like getting out of bed in the morning, putting on makeup, or giving your baby a quick smile.
Instead of fighting these feelings and moods, ride with them. Even though they are unpredictable and a bit scary, take heart and know that you will sooner spit in calm water. Hormones always find their way back to neutrality.
Community. Community. Community. There’s something about being able to accept your inferiority complex in a group setting. One-on-one work for some. But a group always benefits me. Especially this time.
Whether it’s a mom, creative meetup, or church group, there’s something very special about sharing your heart with a group of people who care. Since then, I have been feeling better. And you can too!
You’re not alone! What you’re going through is normal, and nothing to worry about. You are normal. You are not weak. You are not broken. You are stronger for going through it. You can do this.
love,
Kelly
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