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The Dreaded Postpartum Mother

Throughout pregnancy I wasn’t my best self. I was terrified of labor, threw up multiple times most days, and felt disconnected from my changing body. In the beginning, I was so excited to call my providers’ office after my first missed period. At my first prenatal appointment, I sat excitedly in the waiting office and looked longingly at the growing bellies of the women around me. I smiled knowingly at them, feeling like I was now a part of this special club. I almost expected a hug or balloons from the provider. She was kind, but didn’t give a hug. Or a balloon. Instead, I filled out a bunch of paperwork and received instructions on how to access their online portal.

 

As my pregnancy started to progress, my emotions started to tremble and felt tenuous. I started to feel less and less excited. And more and more nauseous. Delicious food that I used to love started to taste terrible. I felt different in and separate from my body. I didn’t feel like myself. I missed my usual energy level and started to dread exercising. I often struggled with what to eat. The few foods that I could keep down weren’t nutrient dense (crackers mostly). As I filled my grocery cart with Rice Krispies and cinnamon toast bread, I started to wonder where my healthy self had gone. I started to skip yoga because I was nervous about feeling dizzy or doing something I wasn’t supposed to inadvertently.

I started to sleep more. And watch more TV. And felt uninspired. And often a bit numb. I started seeing a therapist and she diagnosed me with ‘prenatal anxiety and depression.’ It was a hard winter. I remember feeling embarrassed about my growing belly and tended to hide under bulky sweaters. I started taking medication for the nausea, but it didn’t help much. I threw up everywhere. In my car, in my husband’s car, at yoga studios, in grocery stores, in my mother’s home (even on top of a smoke detector on Hanukkah.) I ate eggs one day, but then violently threw them up the next day. I pretended to appreciate well meaning advice about essential oils and tea and magnesium sprays, but by my fourth month, I had tried everything.

The days were cold and dark and I barely ventured out skiing, something I once loved. I had made a friend at a prenatal yoga class and enjoyed going out with her, but I remember I felt a sense of dread beginning to grow. My baby was totally healthy, but I felt weaker with each passing day and each new fruit measurement of my baby. I remember watching a video in which Cindy Crawford spoke of how “strong and amazing pregnant mamas are.” Her words floated by and I thought how lucky for those mamas. I didn’t feel like them. I felt far from amazing. I felt lonely and terrified most of the time. During prenatal yoga, the teacher encouraged us to “breathe with our baby and to connect with our baby.” I didn’t know what that meant and I felt even more disconnected from my baby and from myself.

My usual coping strategies (nourishing food, exercise, writing) failed to help and I was terrified of slipping into a worse depression once my baby was born. My family and husband started to worry too. I would joke to others that I hoped I was spared postpartum depression because I had prenatal depression. But it wasn’t a joke. I was petrified that I wouldn’t ever feel like myself again.

During my third trimester, I started frantically doing everything I could to ward off postpartum depression (even ironically as I was in a depression at the time). I cooked a huge amount of soups to freeze, hired a postpartum doula, made a list of all the baby playgroups and postnatal fitness classes around, and ordered too many baby clothes from Amazon. I attended webinars and workshops and classes about postpartum care and after-birth wellness. I made frozen padsicles and ordered mesh panties and a spray bottle. I read books on postpartum wellness and books on overcoming postpartum depression.

I wasn’t having much fun.

I also didn’t take many pictures because I was self-conscious. I regret that now.

Looking back, I wished I could have told myself to relax and to not be so afraid and to try to surrender to the changes. I wished I could have told myself to try to just be present because worrying about postpartum depression and making lists and shopping wouldn’t prevent it from happening. I also wished I had known that even if/when I did experience postpartum depression or anxiety, I would be OK. I would be able to cope. It wouldn’t be the worst experience of my life.

I’ve learned that postpartum depression isn’t a monster. Depression isn’t a monster. There is no monster except for the ones that we create sometimes.

Written by,
Molly Ritvo
Guest Blogger

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Copyright © 2022 Birth Love Family

The Birth Love Family site is for information only. This website is only for informational and educational purposes. It should not be considered therapy or any form of treatment. We are not able to diagnose, treat, cure, prevent, or otherwise provide any clinical opinions. Please contact your local emergency number or mental health crisis hotline that is listed in your local phone book's government pages if you think you need immediate assistance.

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