My Thoughts on PostPartum Depression

Hi. I'm not good with small talk, so i'm just going to dive in here.

I think we as women have this idea that most moms are fine and well adjusted after making a human, and then there are a few of us, the wackos, who get post-partum depression. GASP And if we, ourselves, start recognizing some "emotional struggles" in ourselves, first we deny.

"I'm fine. It's just baby blues. Or, "It's because I didn't sleep much last night, or the night before that, or that past 3 months." Or, "My hormones are just adjusting."

But then it starts to sink in, and as we're crying on the bathroom floor eating a bag of chocolate covered acai berries that we know is going to give us the runs later, we start to wonder, "Oh my gosh... am I one of THEM???" and BOOM, now we think we're the wacko.

So here's the thing. I think we're wrong, us women. I think most of us are "the wacko". Let's review. You had sex. You do it a lot. It's fun. This time it made a baby. But first that baby was a zygote, and that little rice-sized zygote made you want to puke your guts out (or maybe actually puke your guts out) as it grew from zygote to embryo to fetus (and for some reason I want to spell fetus foetus... I don't know. I'm wacko). Then the rock hard abs you've slaved over (or maybe not-so-much... but still, whatever they are, they're yours) start bulging. Then this little fetus, who steals all your food and wreaks havoc on your hormones, starts kicking you. It hurts. You're hungry because Foetus takes your food but you can't eat because Foetus is all up in your space. Your ankles become cankles. You waddle around like a stray penguin in search of the arctic chill... it gets a little rough there at the end. But you're happy because you're making a human! (or maybe you're not happy... whatever.) Fast forward... after hours and hours (days... for me it's days. plural) of laboring like no marathon runner, triathalon winner, or doped up Lance Armstrong has ever labored, you get a human! And then, because you're not tired or anything after making said human, you get to spend the next few months not sleeping while your body gets to figure out what the hell just happened. Oh, but there's more. Your body becomes a milk factory, whether you want it to or not. Milk for days, people. And it's still gushing hormones like kool-aid at a summer-time pool party. And do we really think that 9 months of baby-making hormones just POOF and go away? No. They linger. Like the awkward neighbor who keeps eating your pretzels and talking football three hours after the party has ended. Those hormones are milking it for all it's worth (pun intended). And then there are the unmentionables of postpartum care... two words: squirt bottle. I could continue on, but you get what I'm saying.

So here's my question: what exactly do we think post-partum "normal" is? Like a month later I'm cheerily delivering out-grown clothes to orphan children, sweeping and mopping my floors regularly, doing hair and make-up daily, cooking dinner for my sweet sweet family, and keeping up on the crisis in Syria, all while providing my milkalicious self to my infant 24-7? Or three months later? Or nine months later? Because I think "normal" might be, "Hey, I showered today! First time this week!" (and it's Thursday.) I think "normal" might be, "Today I did nothing but take care of the baby, cry, and eat some cheerios my 4 year old didn't finish."

I think normal is emotional. I think normal is some depression. I think normal is exhaustion. I think normal is wanting your husband to come home and save you so so so so bad that you text him every hour on the hour like an annoying teenage crush. I think normal is completely and totally breaking down at 3 o'clock because you seriously can't believe there are more hours left in the day. I think normal is looking into the eyes of your little human and sobbing because that new love for a new life is amazing and beautiful and new... and it feels so good. (And then you kiss their neck.) I think normal is finding this new version of life... realizing everything in your world just changed, whether its baby number 1 or baby number 5.

And I think if we could accept that this is normal, that crying and feeling hopeless and helpless and lonely one minute, then complete and utter joy and elation the other, if we could realize that is what a lot of us mommas are experiencing... that we are not alone... I think we could support each other. And if that's called postpartum depression, because it lasted longer than two weeks, so be it. I think we could be honest when someone asks, "How's it going?" We wouldn't have to feel obligated to say, "Oh, it's really good! She's just the best baby ever! Yah, we love it!" Wouldn't it be great to be able to answer honestly? And to feel like it's OKAY to feel that way??!

My normal is that I'm trying to learn to take some "me" time, but Elise has never spent a moment of her waking life away from me. So it's hard to leave her with a sitter and know she might be crying and I'm not there to comfort her. My normal is trying to adjust to a crazy busy schedule with teaching piano and accepting that it's ok to take 9 hours a week to share my passion. My normal is missing her so bad that I have to make a conscious effort not to break down and sob in the middle of working out or lessons. That's my normal right now. I'm an anxious mess of worry about my baby. Sometimes I can't hold a conversation because I can't stop thinking about if I'm parenting her correctly. Or I don't want to leave my house because I don't want to take the time and effort to shower. Or because I just want to sit and hold her and stare at her all day.

And in my experience, it comes in cycles. Some weeks/days I'm awesome! The sky is blue, the grass is green on my side of the fence, clouds are raining chocolate milk and everything is peaches. Other times not so much. And when I'm in a funk I think, "Am I one of them?? Do I have *GASP* the D-word?" And yah, maybe, probably. And that's ok. Because I just made a human. And I'm done expecting my body and brain and hormones and chemicals and all that stuff to be "normal" after I've just made a human and my boobs are leaking milk. I've decided that part of loving myself is being patient with myself, and accepting of my rollercoaster of emotions and reactions and what not. Because, again... let's say it all together, "I just made a human."