Navigating the Depths: The Beginning of Postpartum Depression and Anxiety

Becoming a parent is often portrayed as one of life's most joyous experiences, but for some, the journey takes an unexpected turn into the dark shadows of postpartum depression and anxiety. In sharing my story, I hope to shed light on the raw and unfiltered reality of my struggles and let others know they are not alone in their battles.

Six years ago, I became a mother for the first time. And despite reading countless parenting books and attending prenatal classes, the topic of maternal mental health were largely overlooked. The term "baby blues" was vaguely familiar, but the depth of its impact remained a mystery until I found myself in its grip. The lack of preparation left me feeling completely blindsided and unprepared for the emotional whirlwind that awaited after childbirth.

They say it takes about six weeks to diagnose PPD+A, but I am convinced my struggle started while I was still in the hospital, just two days into my new motherhood journey. Savannah was breech majority of my pregnancy, so a scheduled c-section became my birth plan. The pain afterwards was unlike anything I've ever felt. It was so intense that I could not take one step without crying, so in those moments, I relied on pain medication to cope. The baby was asleep, my (now) husband, Trace, was sitting on the couch in the room, so I took the opportunity to catch up on some sleep. I woke in a panic to the sound of my newborn choking. I quickly realized I was alone in the room because Trace had taken a few minutes to run downstairs for his pizza delivery, so I jumped out of the bed, picked Savannah up and started patting her back. She cleared her airway and thankfully was fine, but I was not. In the aftermath, I grappled with disorientation, momentarily forgetting the reality that this beautiful, precious baby was mine. I started crying and honestly, it felt like I didn't stop for months.

The early days of motherhood were not the blissful picture I had painted in my mind. Instead, my world was filled with the constant sound of crying – my baby's, and often, my own. The first few nights, I insisted on us sleeping with the light on because the thought of Savannah choking again absolutely terrified me, the image of her scared little face engraved in my brain. The overwhelming responsibility and sleepless nights intensified my emotional vulnerability, leaving me feeling lost and disconnected from the happiness I expected. I distinctly remember sitting at the dinner table one night and Trace telling me I looked beautiful, and I just started bawling so hard that I couldn't even talk. I cried over everything.

One of the most challenging aspects of my postpartum journey was the intrusive thoughts. These unwelcome and disturbing ideas invaded my mind, creating a sense of fear and shame. In my personal experience, these thoughts were never about harming my child, more so 'what if' scenarios. And they consumed me.

Then there's the isolation. I put a bubble around me and my baby. I never wanted anyone else in it with us and I rarely went outside it. The rare times that I would allow myself to be in a room full of people, I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I was the first of my friends to enter motherhood, which added to my loneliness because I felt no one would understand what I was going through.

I was controlling. I wanted control over every single aspect of Savannah's life, every single second of every single day. When people tried to help, it wasn't good enough because it wasn't me that was doing it. This also caused me to feel major anxiety over her attending daycare. I never wanted to leave her side, let alone take an overnight trip away from her.

The toll of postpartum depression on my physical health was evident in the drastic changes to my weight and appetite. The lack of interest in food became a silent indicator of my internal battles. I couldn't even finish an acai bowl from my favorite juice bar!

One of the hardest emotions to confront was the anger and rage that surfaced unexpectedly, directed towards those closest to me, specifically Trace and my parents. I never cuss at my parents, but during this time, I lost control. I screamed at them to "give me my baby and get the fuck out of my house!" This was the symptom that led them to believe that there was deeper issue that was part of my recovery. This was the symptom that led them to have the conversation with me: "Deanna, you need to talk to your doctor."

Navigating the depths of postpartum depression and anxiety has been a challenging yet transformative journey. Throughout my experience, I've come to understand the vital importance of including discussions on maternal mental health in prenatal education. Awareness and knowledge can empower parents to face these challenges head-on and foster a supportive environment. By sharing my experience, I hope to break down the barriers of silence and encourage others to seek help without fear of judgment. Together, we can create a more compassionate and understanding space for those facing the complexities of postpartum mental health, fostering a community that supports every parent on their unique path to healing.