I was getting less that half the sleep that I needed, and I couldn’t nap during the day because I had an active two-year-old running around the house.  I couldn’t sleep not only because the baby woke up to eat every couple of hours, but because my heart raced.  Thoughts kept racing through my mind, also keeping me awake. 

I couldn’t stand the day time while my husband was at work.  At first I was terrified of being left alone with the boys. I’d call him at 4:00 asking when he’d be home, knowing it wouldn’t be until 5:30.  I’d get so desperate for him to come home. 

I weathered migraines, heart palpitations, chest pain, physical sickness, and thoughts that I couldn’t control.  I thought I was going to die.  I called 911 one night, thinking I was having a heart attack.  Over the next couple of weeks I saw a couple of different doctors.  The paramedics and doctors all told me that it was just anxiety.  My dentist told me that I grind my teeth at night, probably caused by stress. 

I looked at all the examples around me.  All the moms seemed to have their act together.  Why was I the only one going through this?  Moms on TV didn’t seem to have these problems.  The pastor’s wife at my church was pregnant with her eighth child at the time.  She had seven children, ages 11 and under, and was calm and collected.  My goodness, my mother used cloth diapers and didn’t even have a microwave!  I had all these modern conveniences and couldn’t manage. 

Eventually it clicked.  The baby, stress, being unable to cope, the physical symptoms, the thoughts in my head that I couldn’t turn off all went together.  I was at a really low point and realized I needed help.  I had always been in control and independent.  At first I was stubborn.  I thought I should be able to get through it.  I finally broke down.  Nothing that I could do by myself was making it go away. 

I sought the help of my gynecologist.  She assured me that it was common.  I left with a prescription for Paxil.  It took me a couple of days of debating before I got it filled.  I didn’t want to take an anti depressant.  I wondered, “shouldn’t God be enough?”  I had this misguided fear that anti-depressants were some kind of crutch or a sign of lacking faith. 

As I grew up in church, I heard too many preachers equate depression with a sin condition, like, not reading the Bible enough, or not having enough faith.  Christians must have joy.  Depression is the result of an unhealthy spiritual life or being backslidden.  Mental health problems are from Satan.  I had heard too many people, Christian and non, say they didn’t believe in mental health disorders.  They’d also say how awful and selfish mothers with postpartum depression are. 

Children are gifts from God, and babies bring happiness.  How could a mother be depressed?  It must be selfishness. Hearing all these misconceptions made me feel more ashamed and isolated.  I felt like a failure as a mother.  I figured the problem was me.  I was fearful to tell anyone, and didn’t want anyone to know.  I found it embarrassing.  How do you tell someone that you cringe whenever your baby cries, or you feel like jumping out of a window, or that you feel like running down the road screaming?  How can you feel like that?  It does sound terrible, doesn’t it?  How could I think those thoughts?  I couldn’t help it.  No matter how much I knew that they were bad thoughts, I could do little to control them. I hated thinking those things. 

Finally I filled the prescription.  Most Christians would take medication for diabetes or heart disease.  No one faults someone for taking antibiotics, and accuses them of not having faith.  God uses those medicines to help people.  So would it be any different for postpartum mood disorders?  Unfortunately, it all goes back to the myth that “depression” is merely a spiritual condition.  It is not simply wallowing in self-pity, or something that someone can snap out of.  This view completely dismisses any physiological contributors and underestimates the power of hormones. 

The truth was that I didn’t know that much about postpartum mood disorders.  It’s a tragedy that so much misinformation and prejudice exist, as they only hinder women from getting help.  I wish that I had sought help sooner, rather than suffer in silence.  Once I opened up and talked about it, I felt like a weight had been lifted off me.  I realized that I was not alone. 

One of the main reasons why I decided to start blogging about postpartum depression was because of the stigma and misunderstanding of it.  I wanted to let other women, especially Christians, know that it’s okay.  The problem isn’t you. No one should be condemned or made to feel inferior, or like it’s their own fault for having postpartum depression. 

I did manage to get through PPD, but it certainly was not by my own strength.  These are some things that helped me:

God – My faith is what kept me going.  I would never have made it through without God, He provided the strength I needed and the hope that I would survive these trials.  I found comfort in reading scripture and prayer. 

Reading scripture – There was so much going on, and it became tempting to let personal Bible reading slide.  It’s hard being sleep deprived with so many demands.  It’s sometimes easier to go to bed than stay up to read.  If all you eat is junk food, you’ll get sick.  We all know unhealthful eating is bad for you.  It’s the same for your spiritual body. If you don’t feed yourself the Word, you’ll get sick.

Prayer – I was almost in a constant state of prayer it seemed.  I was always asking God to help me, as I felt the darts being thrown at me and challenges coming.

The support and understanding of my husband.  He was always there to help, was non-judgmental, and never got angry when I had my emotional ups & downs.  I was irritable and often had temper outbursts.  I look back at how I acted and honestly don’t know if I would be as patient.  I am also thankful for his boss’ understanding when he needed to take time off while I was at my worst.

My mom – She was there to physically help me and take care of my kids.  She was especially helpful taking care of my two-year-old, while baby and I took a nap.

Medication – I did take SSRI antidepressants for about a year and a half.  A pill is certainly not a “quick fix.”  I do believe that antidepressants alone do not provide a cure.  Nothing works without God.

Support of other women who were going or has gone through the same thing was encouraging.  The Internet was an invaluable tool for reading other women’s stories on web sites, blogs, and in Yahoo groups.  Finding out that there were so many other women liked me, made me feel better. 

At the time I felt so awful, and couldn’t see why this was happening to me.  I do know that adversity helps us to grow. My faith now is much stronger.  Someone once told me this story to illustrate:

A man once found a butterfly struggling to get out of her cocoon.  He thought he would “help” the emerging butterfly by cutting open the cocoon so the butterfly could get loose.  The butterfly emerged with tiny legs and shriveled up wings and could not fly.  The man thought that eventually, she would fluff out and be off.  Well, she never did. She never flew and remained in that pitiful state the rest of her life. 

What that man did not realize is that it was God’s intentional design to force the butterfly to struggle out of the cocoon. The struggle forces blood to their new body so that when they are finally free of the cocoon, they are strong enough to fly.