The following is part of a project spearheaded by Grey Rose Studio and Sacred Roots Holistic Community for Women to raise awareness of post-partum depression.
Sitting in a hospital room, alone, I looked out the window and wondered how it had all happened. I had been here before, well, not here exactly, but a place very similar. At that time, I was 21, had miscarried 4 months previously, and was so depressed I had convinced myself that somehow the miscarriage was my fault. I was suicidal and terrified. Following the advice of my doctor, I willingly admitted myself to the hospital to get help. An amazing team of nurses, therapists, and doctors diagnosed and treated me for post-partum depression.
I didn't understand; how could I have post-partum depression? I hadn't given birth. I lost my baby in the first trimester. This wasn't possible, or was it? I was assured that it was.
Several years later, my husband and I were expecting our first baby together. I told my midwife about my previous pregnancy and resulting hospitlization for post-partum depression. She recommended putting me on an antidepressant for the last 6 weeks of pregnancy. Our son was born without any serious complications, and I tried to settle into life as a new mommy.
But then the flashbacks of an assault from 2 years prior started. I would have entire conversations and not remember them happening at all. My parents offered to take care of the baby so I could get help again. One Saturday afternoon, which I don't remember, I had an "episode" and tried to kill myself. My husband found me, and called 911. They rushed me to the hospital and admitted me for treatment. And it was there that I thought over everything that had happened: the miscarriage, my inital diagnosis with PPD, the birth of my son, and then the resurfacing of traumatic memories.
This time the doctors diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder, in addition to post-partum depression. I was released from the hospital in 2 days, and entered an intensive outpatient program for 2 weeks. My parents kept my son for me for several months until I was finally able to take care of myself again.
My husband was incredibly supportive. He stayed with me as much as he could, and even got a transfer with his company so he could work from home. He helped me readjust to being a person first, and then a mom. He knew that I would never be able to take care of our son, if I didn't take care of myself. At the time I struggled hard against that line of thinking. I felt like I had to put the care of my child above everything else. It has only been after years of therapy and practical experience that I finally understand that he is right. I can only be the best mom to my children if I am first caring for myself.
It has not been easy, and there are plenty of days that I still struggle, but I now have two happy, healthy boys. I fight to make time for myself at least once every week. I am so grateful for the support of my husband and my family, and the kindness of my therapist, who kept me on track the many times when I wanted to give up. I know my story isn't that uncommon, but while I was going through everything, I felt terribly alone. I hope that this can help other women, who are experiencing similar struggles, to know that they are not alone, that there is hope, and that they can feel okay again.
