my wow.
I’ve heard so many many woman sigh and say wow that was bad. Looking back, it was worse than I thought it was. And it lasted a year. 2 years. It still hits me like a mac truck and I gave birth almost three years ago.
I’m too careful of a person to sigh my sigh now, and shake my head back and forth and say my wow in the past tense. The heavy sheet of all things not pretty seems to be gone, but whose to say what’s around that corner. I’ll give half a sigh and readily admitt it has been hard and I never expected to feel like such shit.
Why do we rarely talk about it? Prepare ourselves and our families for it? We spend oodles of time reading about pregnancy and birth before the fact, but what initiates us to handle the state of potential depression? Or is the depression the final initiator, the last test before we get our Mother of The Moment trophy?
I can hide it well. Which makes me doubt I am even worthy of the title; Post Partum Depressed. I wipe my face clean and hide the amount of effort it takes me to pick up each foot and put it in front of the other. I spend time with my family and pretend I am hadnling it all, exhausted, but centered and strong. Who wants to hear, as I hold my perfect daughter in my arms, that I feel bleak? Weak? Nothing? Fear? With moods that swing as fast as my daughter does at the playground? I am a beautiful new mother of my third daughter and I hold it all together and like my sister said when I called trying to subtly hint that I may be living in my own personal collapsable world
You’re not the only who has three kids. Think of it that way. You’re not alone.
And yeah, that’s not really what I meant. Three kids or 20, I am very alone. This is the epitome of alone.
And I suppose if while we discussed the pregnancy and all the protein we have been eating and the sex of the baby or whether or not a waterbirth would be in the plan, someone could have thrown in there: Prepare, you might feel like you’ll wanna curl up and die sometime after the birth. Have support in place. Have herbs all ready. Hire help. Call and make a tenative appointment for marriage counseling and probably throw one in there for child psychology, because with all the yelling and moping and emotional messiness, everyone around you will need professional help, too. Maybe I could have spared me girls my ugliest moments. Maybe my husband would not be so bruised. Maybe I would think all this is normal and not feel defeated.
But I never thought. Not me. Not with the homebirth and the yoga and the herbs and meditation. Not me, I paid my depression dues back when I was 21. Now I’m a Birth Warrior, A Mama in Charge. I laugh in my face, as if I am protected from this pain, this realness, this life. Reason: unknown. Source; the mind, the heart, the seed. Remedy; acceptance (and rest, food, drink, time alone).
It’s been a long time, Mama. A long time since I knew you in Arizona.
I didn’t ask her what she meant but in my heart I knew. It’s been a long time since I’ve been my old self. This one, the one who mothered like that. Not the one I have been these days. These days I’ve been the sharky thought.
But like I said, it lifts. It’s lifting. I am not ready to call it done, because I know it can creep up like the night upon dusk and in a split moment I am gone. But as I step up and out, feel life at some surface, I am beginning to think this depression I came face to face with may be the greatest teacher I’ve ever had. Ever. And isn’t that kind of beautiful?
Thank you for speaking out and sharing, MB. You’re doing a great job allowing other women to be aware and prepare. Here where I live, Springtime sun broke through the clouds last week. The earth and sea are warming up. I wish the same for you.
Comment by Sanne — April 11, 2008 @ 10:46 am
Great blog!
Comment by Women of Service — April 11, 2008 @ 12:23 pm
Friend, indeed you feel alone in those darkest of moments, but you are not. There are many of us out there who know this - I, too, NEVER expected to feel such angst after birthing my first child. It was such a let down, in all honesty, to carry the burden of PPD around with me as I carried him. I don’t know why it happens; I wish none of us ever knew these feelings. But I do think there is learning that comes from it all, as you suggest, and sometimes, when I was able to think of it this way, I’d consider us both like a sweater: slightly unraveling only to be knit back tighter and better. And that’s how I feel nowadays; (even though I can’t say I am utterly and sublimely happy in my life at this moment, due to other wee circumstances). I hope this cloud continues to lift for you; you push through it, seeing the light where you can, and you hold tight to your heart, which is strong and clear and able to pull you out of this dark sea. I hope the coming summer, a few good new friends, and margaritas soothe your soul as the months fly by. Much love to you - XO
Comment by Joanna — April 11, 2008 @ 12:36 pm
This post should be read and discussed in every prenatal yoga class in the country. Yes, with all the herbs and the yoga and the bliss and the anticipation, with your gorgeous, healthy, hallejujah blessing of a baby at your breast, you are not “supposed” to feel bleak, weak, nothing, fear. With my first daughter, I didn’t see it coming. The diagnosis didn’t matter; what I knew is that after weeks, months even, the world was wondering why I was “taking so long” to be myself again. But myself had changed, my world was rocked. The main difference the second time was that I called my therapist when Pearl was ten days old, barely able to open my mouth without crying, and made an appointment.
These are the stories we need to share. You are alone, and you’re not alone. Ride those waves, sister.
With love,
xo Jena
Comment by Jena — April 11, 2008 @ 12:40 pm
It can truly happen to anyone, even though each of us thinks it will never happen to us.
I am glad to hear it is lifting. Like a cloudy day, it’s sometimes hard to imagine that the sun even still exists. But it does, and you will find your way back to it. That doesn’t invalidate the cloudiness, though. I acknowledge and honor it.
Much love.
Comment by gearhead mama — April 11, 2008 @ 2:10 pm
It sounds like you are taking some steps away from the precipice. That is great. I have been there or perhaps I still am, 4 years past the birth of my youngest.
Depression triggered by pregnancy and hormones is hell and it is GOOD to acknowledge that it exists and is real. Children are not all “joy and happiness”, the emotional drag can be incredible difficult. Please don’t invalidate your own emotions…(HUGS)
(btw- I recently covered depression in a series of 5 posts on my blog… feel free to stop by
http://spacemom.net Look for the “When did the rain begin to fall?” series.)
Comment by SPacemom — April 11, 2008 @ 2:32 pm
and that is why you’ll come out into the light–light can’t help but shine when you are grateful for the darkness.
love and peace, mama. you’re beautiful.
Comment by jouette — April 11, 2008 @ 5:42 pm
I grew up with a mother that was depressed. She was a very loving and warm mother, but she was depressed. I never understood what was wrong with my mother, why she always escaped to books from actually playing with me, or relating to me. She just met my physical needs and then escaped back into her underworld and I just never understood.
I remember as a child watching a laundry detergent commercial where the mother walked around her home with a laundry basket on her hip, picking up all her kids dirty socks and laughing and rubbing the kids heads while she did it. She was so full of joy, I remember thinking - THAT is the kind of mother I am going to be- happy!
And now, here I am with three little boys- 5, 3 and 8 months walking around looking for an escape most days. The depression, the lonliness, the isolation some days is just overwhelming.
But I refuse to be my mother. I refuse to let this depression determine what I will look like to my boys.
I don’t have any answers for you. I just wanted to tell you that I relate to you so much and love that you can articulate these feelings and I can identify them and work on getting OVER them.
You are so raw, so honest, Thank you.
Peace,
Linda
Comment by linda — April 11, 2008 @ 5:46 pm
You’re right, its not discussed. A few paragraphs among hundreds of pages in those “What to Expect - type” books. Thank you for writing. I’m sure it helps you (and others).
Comment by Awake — April 11, 2008 @ 6:13 pm
i understand. i never thought it would happen to me, either. ppd hit me hard after my 2nd child was born. i felt so empowered birthing her, however had many odds stacked against me after she was born: a lot of postpartum bleeding, sold a house, bought a house, moved to a new community halfway across the country, husband worked long, hard hours, no close friends. hard.
good for you for recognizing your feelings so soon and talking about them. it took me many, many months to acknowledge that i wasn’t myself…at the time it felt like it somehow was admitting defeat. however once i let go of that self-shame and…i guess, embraced it…it started to lift. anyway…sorry for the self-reflection on your blog…it just really struck a chord with me.
i really admire and respect your honesty. it is courageous and, i believe, living life the way it is supposed to be lived. true to ourself.
if you ever want to make a mini escape and meet a semi-stranger mama who is also trying to navigate life with three kids, we’re only a relatively short drive and a ferry ride away…
Comment by katie — April 12, 2008 @ 12:00 am
Your post knocked me off my feet like a Mack truck. And then Linda’s comment, the same.
Keep writing through this MB, so that we can wrap you in light and love, even virtually and from a distance. xoxoxo
Comment by sweetsalty kate — April 12, 2008 @ 10:32 am
it IS beautiful. YOU are beautiful. THIS is beautiful…this openness and vulnerability and the really raw honesty that never fails to grace this space. You open up so much by sharing this story with all of us and we are all connected through this, you must know.
I breathe in your weight and send you the acceptance that we all need more of.
Comment by jessamyn — April 12, 2008 @ 5:52 pm
mb, i know i’ve yet to tell my full story on my “cracked” blog…but you’ve read my brief version, so you know i know how you are feeling. it doesn’t matter how we’re “supposed” to feel, it doesn’t matter how “blessed” our life looks on the outside, it’s what’s on the inside of us, the chaos, the darkness, the hopelessness is all that matters…and how the hell we’re supposed to overcome it because someone(s) else it depending on us to.
if you can read (i couldn’t through mine, didn’t have the concentration), then seek out the books that will help.
peace,
Lil
Comment by Lil — April 12, 2008 @ 6:56 pm
keep speaking your truth and living your truth in only the way you know how: brilliantly and honestly.
you know i love you and your beautiful family.
xoxo
Comment by meremortal — April 13, 2008 @ 5:08 am
You are amazing for writing this so candidly and eloquently. It expresses so well how raw it feels. I am 2 years post Baby #2 and know how suffocating and oppressive these kinds of desolate feelings are. This, I think, is a larger part of the universal experience of motherhood than a lot of people can make sense of. But it is so very real. We are all a bit cracked in some way by the scope of this mothering thing we are doing…thank you for giving it honest words here. Keep going strong.
Comment by AbsintheDC — April 14, 2008 @ 1:48 am
No words. Travelers through know how profound the silence is.
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — April 14, 2008 @ 2:15 am
It’s always hard to follow a comment from Karen, especially on that says so much in so few words. Know that I know you, the you that you ARE, even if not always. Did you know that planes on autopilot are only traveling in the correct direction something like 5% of the time, and the other 95% of hte time, they are going too far left, and then too far right. But they are always on target. What’s important is not that they are missing the mark most of the time, what is important is the internal mechanism designed to self-correct. Something like that. I’m a little tired for eloguence, but a yoga teacher talked about this once and it struck a chord. Love you.
Comment by Courtney Alban — April 15, 2008 @ 2:15 am
its so strange.
mother are not “supposed” to experience this and so it is not spoken of, tended to, prepared for while pregnant. And yet it happens. a lot. And it makes no distinction between women, could give a shit if you ate the right foods or said your prayers.
I see your rawness right now, that fragile sense of coming through, feeling perhaps it has lifted, not wanting to rush forward for fear it is only a momentary pause and will return.
I’m here, holding this space, saying it is ok to be where you are. not fun, not easy, not pretty. But it is ok. You are enough.
I love you and will see yous soon.
Comment by bella — April 15, 2008 @ 6:40 pm
Thank you for this.
Comment by Must Be Motherhood — April 16, 2008 @ 8:13 pm
‘But as I step up and out, feel life at some surface, I am beginning to think this depression I came face to face with may be the greatest teacher I’ve ever had. Ever. And isn’t that kind of beautiful?’
I love that!!! I believe everything we encounter in life holds a lesson for us. It is in moments of deep darkness that we are most open to these lessons. At the deepest point of my depression, I awakened to a new sense of life. Life has never been the same. If you are open to Life, you’ll meet the greatest teacher. Blessed are you!
Comment by norea — April 17, 2008 @ 8:02 pm
I have been thinking about your words since I read them..I have been feeling them really because I have been there, am there and will be there again. In the midst of all that churning I hold tight to my pen and keep my legs moving through bright green forests surronded by the wild ocean.
But what helps the most is reading and talking to other Mamas who are not afraid to let it out and thereby enable me to feel less a failure and more a family surronded by the loving hands of all those who came before me, are in it w/me now, and who will jon me later.
This sharing is where it is at.
Because in the midst of all the crazy, sorrowful agony life can be I yearn for arms to hold me tight as I hold them tightly, holding one another up..
Comment by crystine — April 20, 2008 @ 7:32 pm
Jamye Waxman suggested I contact you about a Sexy Mama blog even Babeland is putting on through the month of May. Please email at mae@babeland.com for more details.
thanks,
Mae
Comment by Mae — April 21, 2008 @ 9:34 pm
I was thinking of you so strongly tonight, wanting to read what I wrote for you when you left arizona, and what you wrote for me way back when to feel some sort of distance connection - and then I see this. I have not been on anyone’s blog in weeks, and so I missed this, and when we talked the other day (finally! oh - what joy it was to hear your earthy, sexy, filled with life and love and reality voice) I didn’t know you were here in this space and I so wish I had. I can do nothing but hold space, the way you have done for me so often in the past - but I hold it now with love and reverence and respect for the rawness of your journey.
Comment by Jeanette — April 22, 2008 @ 5:05 am