Jessica’s Story

Trigger warning: intrusive thoughts, self-harm, suicidal ideation

A Letter for You

My postpartum anxiety story is different than what I had read, heard, or prepared for. I covered up my symptoms with excuses and thoughts of “with time it’ll be better.” It took what my therapist called “The Perfect Storm” to trigger a breakdown which led to me crying out (literally)… because I was terrified of myself and losing my kids.

This journal started in my head as a way for me to recognize my battle and to help grieve what I had gone through. I heard my therapist’s advice to jot down my thoughts as a way to heal so here I am. When I started writing this, it was a letter to myself, but quickly turned into a letter for you.

My Wish 

I wish I would have been more honest. I wish I would have been more vocal. I wish my doctor would have pushed me to face my sickness and to accept help. I needed to be educated that my postpartum depression demanded medical attention and that it was beyond me. I look back and wish that the screams in my head were out loud for all to hear. That there was less crying in the shower and more tears in my husband’s hugs. Or maybe a moment when my guard was down and someone saw I needed help.

My wish for right now is that this is helping someone. Yourself. Your daughter. Your best friend. I also hope it is healing me a little bit more.

First Postpartum Experience

After my first was born I was in great spirits until my husband went back to work. Loneliness and sadness popped up in between my happy baby snuggles from time to time. In the back of my head I knew something was off, but from what I had heard that was a normal part of adjusting and the hints were fairly quiet. 

I realized that thrillers and scary shows created traumatic feelings in my head. Everyday things would sometimes give me uncomfortable feelings. All that was easy to hide away by filling my life with happy moments and ignoring all those uncomfortable feelings.

Second Postpartum Experience

With my second, I was more sleep deprived and my postpartum depression and anxiety started to feed off my lack of sleep in combination with my changing hormones. My rise in anxiety and inability to deal with issues should have been a red flag. After a day filled with meltdowns and tears, I did say to my husband, “I think I have some postpartum issues and should see a doctor.” 

A few days later I went to an appointment and by this point, I was completely in denial that anything was really wrong so I lightly touched on the subject and very much downplayed my symptoms. However, this doctor still brought to my attention that a small dose of medicine could help me, yet I opted for the “getting better on my own because I wasn’t that bad” route. 

I look back at this time and it makes my heart ache for my oldest child. The impatient mom I was. The tears he was forced to see. No, this wasn’t an all-the-time everyday thing, but rather a few moments that stick out to me that I have to learn to forgive myself for. There are an abundance of happy moments that are helping me heal from this.

By 6 months postpartum with my second, my thoughts were out of my control. Bad things would just pop up in my head and my coping tactic was to picture hurting myself because “I was a bad person”. If I wasn’t constantly filling my head with happy thoughts or distractions then uncomfortable thoughts would force their way in. My mind couldn’t be kept blank. It was exhausting running my brain 24/7. I was really struggling and yet my fear wouldn’t allow me to tell anyone. 

There was a weekend at a friend’s cabin that I thought was going to heal me. “I just need to not be a mom for a few days and I’ll be better.” Surprise! I went home and I wasn’t at all better. In fact, I was much worse. I was really disappointed and really concerned. I had the awareness that I was really messed up and I couldn’t fix myself. 

Yet again….yet again….yet again…. I was too scared to do anything. Instead, I allowed my feelings to be buried in big life impacts like:

Beginning a photography business

Selling our house

Moving in with my parents for a short bit while we search for a new home

Yikes, that’s a lot to tackle, right? 

I brushed it off as usual because “I’m happy-go-lucky and this cannot nor would it bring me down. I’ll be fine. Yes, I just need a little more time.” 

Third Postpartum Experience

A week before our move-out day I found out I was pregnant. Crazy timing. By that time, my postpartum depression and anxiety were accelerating really fast. I was in a torturous cycle of intrusive thoughts followed by self-hating, self-blaming, and mentally self-hurting myself to get these horrible intrusive thoughts out of my head. They just keep replaying over and over. This is another first for me to admit this, but I did have thoughts of putting an end to this monster I had become. I mean, how could a terrible monster like this be in this world? I wasn’t a safe person. I was a horrible person, mom, friend, wife, daughter. But in the same thought, I couldn’t do such a thing – I was pregnant. 

At this time my secondborn was seven months old. One early morning I was rocking him in my parent’s rocking chair (a chair I hate to sit in to this day because of this memory) apologizing to him, “I can’t be your mom anymore.” I needed to run away. I started scheming. I would leave, have this baby somewhere, and then send him or her back to my husband, but I can’t be around them.

Gosh, this breaks my heart over and over. I knew I wasn’t good for them…for anyone. And besides, once everyone found out how messed up I was they would lock me up and take my kids away from me.

The following day I was playing with my two little boys and had a moment of panic after an intrusive thought. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried myself into a panic attack. My two-year-old was knocking on the door asking, “Mommy, Mommy?” (phew, need to take a big breath here). He just knew. This was the wake up call that I needed.

I caught my breath, gave my little baby boy a hug, and Googled “postpartum therapists.” I called my husband, with more anxiety than I’ve ever felt, and confessed I needed help and that I wasn’t okay. Why is this still so hard for me to write, let alone say out loud? I needed help. I needed help. I NEEDED HELP. After all that build-up of fear, and silently allowing my mental health to torture me for four years, I let go. 

Following that phone call, I Googled all of my symptoms searching for websites and blogs, just like this one, that could normalize how I was feeling. Sobbing and scared, I read similar stories of mom’s that have gone through similar and worse experiences. 

My feelings, thoughts, emotions, and fears all checked the boxes for internet’s definition of postpartum depression and anxiety. This was the first moment I felt normal and I cried. Think Alice in Wonderland big puddle tears. These tears were full of so many emotions ranging from relief to worry. 

Luckily I was able to meet with an OBGYN pretty immediately. The nurse handed me the typical postpartum assessment paperwork that I had lied on countless times before. This time I started to answer truthfully. The sheet was drowning in my tears. My pain, worry, and suffering was too much to bear alone anymore. This doctor was so kind and sensitive to my situation. He prescribed me an low-dose antidepressant. 

Even after the trauma that I was coping with, I was reluctant to start taking pills for my mental health. I didn’t want to be someone who needed to rely on pills to fix her! But I was so sick I couldn’t eat, I cried all the time, I was too scared to be alone, and wasn’t sleeping well. After a few days my husband convinced me to start taking my medication and it was life-changing…life-saving.

The Perfect Storm 

Next up was my therapy appointment. She explained that I have been dealing with postpartum OCD and anxiety with intrusive thoughts. All of these big life changes and my surging hormones spiraled me into this “Perfect Storm.”

This OCD was created by mom-worry. My brain would create an intrusive thought regarding my kids and my OCD would obsess over it creating worst case scenarios that kept replaying in my head torturing me 24/7.

Words like “this isn’t you”, “this is out of your control”, and “this isn’t your fault” were spoken to me by the therapist. These words gave me permission to not blame myself although that has been a battle in itself. I was sent home with coping techniques to help me overcome my demons. I was given strict orders to slow down my life, exercise, get outside, eat well, work on breathing techniques, and take my medicine. Take care of me.

So I did.

During this postpartum journey, I was also diagnosed with D-MER a condition that during a let down caused negative emotions that stole my joy while nursing. The best way to describe it is like an invisible cloak of depression and icky feelings covered me every 3 hours. Pediatricians, OBGYNs and lactation consultants have encouraged me to stop nursing as my mental health is most important.

Some might view this “Perfect Storm” as hitting rock bottom. But I’m a look-on-the-bright-side kinda girl and my storm was followed by an amazing ray of sunshine baby girl and a support system that sees me and what I battled.

Now 18 months later, I’m not fully healed, but I’m really happy being back to my 90% normal self. I’m on a higher dose of antidepressants. I’ve been focusing a lot on me. Working out regularly, limiting my caffeine intake and I’ve changed to a sober lifestyle. The few times I did have alcohol last year brought on a lot of depression, more intrusive thoughts, and sadly, even a moment of small self-harm. 

Postpartum is truly an up-and-down journey. Yes, it can be frustrating. Yes, you might feel sad. Yes, it could feel isolating. You are capable of getting through this. Fight for yourself. Please overcome your fears. Ask for help. Seek shelter from your “Perfect Storm.”

Bonus excerpt: A Fourth Baby 

It’s been 1 year since I first wrote this journal. I’ll be honest, I sort of forgot that I composed and submitted this piece. Ironically, a few days after I gave birth to our fourth baby I received a message that my experience was going to be featured this month. It was a sad, but great reminder of what I have overcome. I’m much more aware of how I’m feeling and recognize that these intrusive thoughts feed on lack of sleep. So I nap and snuggle a lot more than I ever did. I’ve never been happier than I am right now.

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