Dealing with Postpartum Depression Shame
August 7, 2019 7:56 PM Subscribe
I struggled with a lot of anxiety/depression after my second child was born for over a year. Now I am great! I have a wonderful bond with my daughter. But I find it so painful when I think back to her early days, and looking at her baby pictures only brings guilt and shame, not happiness. How to move forward?
I struggled with what I now know was pretty serious postpartum anxiety/depression after my second child was born. It was centered largely on one "mistake" I thought I made, and it was all out rumination, depression, self-torture. I got really low. I didn't take meds because I was too worried about breastfeeding, and didn't want to quit (the one thing I felt was going well!) That was probably a mistake. I had a little therapy, but not enough to be useful (or maybe a bad fit.) Anyway, it was off/on until she was about 1.5 at the earliest to be honest, and sometimes I would have relapses as well.
That's the bad. The good was that the whole way through I think I built a wonderful bond with my daughter. Now she is three and adores me; we are very close. I breastfed for two years, which we both loved. My husband is amazing and took a lot of time off work to be the primary parent for a while, and even when I was really, really low he said I always lit up when I was with her. I think she's the greatest now, and I'm really proud of our family, even though we've had our ups and downs. We are in a solid place now, and I am grateful. But I can't stop mourning what should have been.
And I realized yesterday when I was going through her baby pictures that I have no joy when I see them. I only remember how depressed I was, how the time I should have spent cooing with her was often spent googling the internet for reassurance, how much I resented her sometimes, how much I kept wishing I could do it all over again, or even wished she hadn't been born. I know that wasn't me, that was the depression, but her baby pictures only remind me of this really difficult time in my life. Even talking about her first few months with anyone at all brings in huge waves of remorse. I even think about having another kid (not a good idea for us, I know) to just get it right the next time.
I don't want it to be this way! I love talking about my first kid's babyhood and early years. I love looking at his pictures! And I adore talking about my daughter now; I cannot imagine life without her. I just don't know how to shake the shame when I look back.
If anyone has been through this and has any advice, I'd love to hear it.
I struggled with what I now know was pretty serious postpartum anxiety/depression after my second child was born. It was centered largely on one "mistake" I thought I made, and it was all out rumination, depression, self-torture. I got really low. I didn't take meds because I was too worried about breastfeeding, and didn't want to quit (the one thing I felt was going well!) That was probably a mistake. I had a little therapy, but not enough to be useful (or maybe a bad fit.) Anyway, it was off/on until she was about 1.5 at the earliest to be honest, and sometimes I would have relapses as well.
That's the bad. The good was that the whole way through I think I built a wonderful bond with my daughter. Now she is three and adores me; we are very close. I breastfed for two years, which we both loved. My husband is amazing and took a lot of time off work to be the primary parent for a while, and even when I was really, really low he said I always lit up when I was with her. I think she's the greatest now, and I'm really proud of our family, even though we've had our ups and downs. We are in a solid place now, and I am grateful. But I can't stop mourning what should have been.
And I realized yesterday when I was going through her baby pictures that I have no joy when I see them. I only remember how depressed I was, how the time I should have spent cooing with her was often spent googling the internet for reassurance, how much I resented her sometimes, how much I kept wishing I could do it all over again, or even wished she hadn't been born. I know that wasn't me, that was the depression, but her baby pictures only remind me of this really difficult time in my life. Even talking about her first few months with anyone at all brings in huge waves of remorse. I even think about having another kid (not a good idea for us, I know) to just get it right the next time.
I don't want it to be this way! I love talking about my first kid's babyhood and early years. I love looking at his pictures! And I adore talking about my daughter now; I cannot imagine life without her. I just don't know how to shake the shame when I look back.
If anyone has been through this and has any advice, I'd love to hear it.
You did good with her, right? Results matter. Let your present love color those pictures and memories: remind yourself that even when you were depressed you were being a good parent. Not quite CBT, but when you have those bad feelings now, the rebuttal should be "I did it and she loves me and she's great."
posted by wenestvedt at 3:33 AM on August 8, 2019
posted by wenestvedt at 3:33 AM on August 8, 2019
I was thinking basically what wenestvedt said - even though you were going through something super hard, you were still there and you still did the work. That's amazing! In my case it was literally the hardest thing I've ever been through, but I did the work. I didn't do it as well as I would have liked, and I had LOTS of support from my husband and friends, but we got through it and our kid is happy and healthy. She was still being snuggled and loved even if I was consumed with anxiety while I did it - even if I was wondering if I had made a huge mistake. I really firmly believe that love is an act of the will. I wasn't feeling it emotionally but I was still acting it out, and you were too. Breastfeeding is really freaking hard and you did it for TWO YEARS.
posted by brilliantine at 6:05 AM on August 8, 2019
posted by brilliantine at 6:05 AM on August 8, 2019
I hope you get a lot of good answers here. My heart goes out to you. One idea I have is to look at those pictures while sending love and compassion back to yourself. I believe our brains are very malleable. (Here's my example.) Maybe if you practice, you could retrain your brain to feel compassion for how hard that time was for yourself. The retraining process isn't easy, but each repetition strengthens the mental connections. At minimum, trying this might function like exposure therapy, taking the sting out of things. I'm so sorry for what happened and as someone susceptible to anxious rumination, I can relate! There are also therapists who specialize in pre- and post-partum stuff who might be useful. Wishing you the best!
posted by salvia at 11:08 AM on August 8, 2019 [1 favorite]
posted by salvia at 11:08 AM on August 8, 2019 [1 favorite]
Would it help to reframe it not as a failing on your part, but as a sign that, in spite of how terribly depressed you were then, you still created this amazing little human who is thriving? It's hard enough to be a parent--I think it's a triumph on your part that you pushed through and created a wonderful bond with her. And she certainly will have no hard feelings for you, not only because she won't remember it, but because, again, you bonded anyway. You didn't let the depression take that away from you. You should be proud of that.
posted by Amy93 at 11:36 AM on August 8, 2019 [1 favorite]
posted by Amy93 at 11:36 AM on August 8, 2019 [1 favorite]
I feel you on this so much. My PPD was undiagnosed, so I had no therapy, no meds, nothing.
Recently, on my therapist's recommendation and in an effort to get the guilt and regret of feeling like I missed out on the best parts of the first year of my son's life, I wrote two letters. One to my boyfriend, telling him how I felt that first year, the sadness, the constant inadequacy I felt as a mother, the missing connection to my child - and the gratitude I felt towards him for going above and beyond his own parental responsibilities to ensure my mental health was taken care of. My boyfriend is not one to be emotional, but on reading that letter he said he finally understood some of what I was feeling soon after our son was born.
The second letter was to my son. This one won't ever be read by him, but it was unbelievably cathartic for me. I wrote down all the wonderful and not-so-wonderful moments I could remember from his birth to his first birthday, which was when the PPD began to dissipate. I described the experiences around many of the hundreds of pictures I had of him during that time. I talked about how I felt in those moments - whether it was a positive or negative feeling. I even looked at online hospital records of his growth charts and took the time to remember those specific milestone pediatric visits. I talked about the resentment I felt, the impatience when he cried or wouldn't eat enough, the regret around even going down the path of motherhood. Once I had put all that down on paper, it quantified, to some extent, the fact that despite my PPD, I had still taken care of my son with love and kindness, no matter how I was feeling. He never wanted for anything. His needs were met, he was healthy, he thrived. He was such a smiley baby! Writing all of that down helped me give my PPD self validation - that part of me existed, she mattered, and she still managed to raise a happy, healthy child. She is as much a part of my son's mother as the mother he knows today. It was okay for her to be a part of my son's early months, and she didn't do him any wrong, as evidenced by his cheerful, healthy existence today.
I don't think there's a mother alive who's not felt resentment towards her child. Whether or not its through a PPD lens, no one expects a mother to always feel positive emotions. None of us with PPD made the choice to have it, but every second of time with it we made minute choices to support our child's wellbeing. Like reaching for a clean diaper, or washing a piece of pump equipment. This is all about shifting perspectives - the letters I wrote for myself helped me to understand the triumph of helping my son thrive despite a physiological condition I couldn't control. I hope you're able to find the ability to do that, and take back some of that time you feel PPD took from you.
posted by Everydayville at 11:40 AM on August 8, 2019 [3 favorites]
Recently, on my therapist's recommendation and in an effort to get the guilt and regret of feeling like I missed out on the best parts of the first year of my son's life, I wrote two letters. One to my boyfriend, telling him how I felt that first year, the sadness, the constant inadequacy I felt as a mother, the missing connection to my child - and the gratitude I felt towards him for going above and beyond his own parental responsibilities to ensure my mental health was taken care of. My boyfriend is not one to be emotional, but on reading that letter he said he finally understood some of what I was feeling soon after our son was born.
The second letter was to my son. This one won't ever be read by him, but it was unbelievably cathartic for me. I wrote down all the wonderful and not-so-wonderful moments I could remember from his birth to his first birthday, which was when the PPD began to dissipate. I described the experiences around many of the hundreds of pictures I had of him during that time. I talked about how I felt in those moments - whether it was a positive or negative feeling. I even looked at online hospital records of his growth charts and took the time to remember those specific milestone pediatric visits. I talked about the resentment I felt, the impatience when he cried or wouldn't eat enough, the regret around even going down the path of motherhood. Once I had put all that down on paper, it quantified, to some extent, the fact that despite my PPD, I had still taken care of my son with love and kindness, no matter how I was feeling. He never wanted for anything. His needs were met, he was healthy, he thrived. He was such a smiley baby! Writing all of that down helped me give my PPD self validation - that part of me existed, she mattered, and she still managed to raise a happy, healthy child. She is as much a part of my son's mother as the mother he knows today. It was okay for her to be a part of my son's early months, and she didn't do him any wrong, as evidenced by his cheerful, healthy existence today.
I don't think there's a mother alive who's not felt resentment towards her child. Whether or not its through a PPD lens, no one expects a mother to always feel positive emotions. None of us with PPD made the choice to have it, but every second of time with it we made minute choices to support our child's wellbeing. Like reaching for a clean diaper, or washing a piece of pump equipment. This is all about shifting perspectives - the letters I wrote for myself helped me to understand the triumph of helping my son thrive despite a physiological condition I couldn't control. I hope you're able to find the ability to do that, and take back some of that time you feel PPD took from you.
posted by Everydayville at 11:40 AM on August 8, 2019 [3 favorites]
Sending you a hug and fist bump of solidarity. My kid was born with a scary medical condition, and I spent his first year (and more) in a haze of fear and depression. I didn’t go on meds for PPD until he was 2. I can look at photos and have my first thought be, “Look at how small he is - he was so cute!” My second thought is always, “I never want to go through that again.” When I see other newborns in real life, I get flashbacks and basically have to ignore the baby or leave. That makes it weird to interact with dear friends and family, and then I feel all guilty about the weirdness but also bitter that they’re having an easier go of it, and then I feel guilty about that...
Therapy helped with my sadness and fear at the time, and I’m sure it would help again now. Try to find someone to talk to - you lost a chunk of time and experiences to depression, and you need help with that loss. It’s real, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. And if you don’t connect well with the first therapist, try another - life is too short to waste time talking to assholes.
posted by Maarika at 5:06 PM on August 8, 2019 [1 favorite]
Therapy helped with my sadness and fear at the time, and I’m sure it would help again now. Try to find someone to talk to - you lost a chunk of time and experiences to depression, and you need help with that loss. It’s real, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. And if you don’t connect well with the first therapist, try another - life is too short to waste time talking to assholes.
posted by Maarika at 5:06 PM on August 8, 2019 [1 favorite]
I got hit really hard with postpartum depression and anxiety when my son was born (he's 21 months now). I did go straight onto meds (yay Zoloft!) and found a therapist after about 2 months. I very much relate to how you describe your feelings from the early days - just absolutely no joy. (Things are a lot better now, fistbumps and solidarity to anyone going through it)
I think therapy could be a good choice for you. Specifically, look for a family therapist (you can still see them solo) and/or someone who specializes in trauma. I had done heaps of CBT-ish therapy in years prior, and it was not a good approach for me for the post-partum stuff. I started getting a handle on the PP stuff once I found my current therapist, who is trained as a family therapist and specializes in trauma and EMDR. That kind of approach could help you process the shame you feel about the PPD.
Hugs, and good luck.
posted by fiddler at 5:18 PM on August 8, 2019
I think therapy could be a good choice for you. Specifically, look for a family therapist (you can still see them solo) and/or someone who specializes in trauma. I had done heaps of CBT-ish therapy in years prior, and it was not a good approach for me for the post-partum stuff. I started getting a handle on the PP stuff once I found my current therapist, who is trained as a family therapist and specializes in trauma and EMDR. That kind of approach could help you process the shame you feel about the PPD.
Hugs, and good luck.
posted by fiddler at 5:18 PM on August 8, 2019
I keep thinking about this question. That kind of anxious rumination over a "mistake" is so, so, so, so painful. I'm so sorry it sucked you under for awhile and so glad you got free.
posted by salvia at 7:40 PM on August 8, 2019
posted by salvia at 7:40 PM on August 8, 2019
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One thing I do sometimes when I look at his baby pictures, though, is see them as I would if I was looking at the most precious baby in the world and NOT think about how I was when those pictures were taken. I effectively take myself out of the equation as his mom and just admire the hell out of how adorable he was.
I'd recommend therapy now, to focus on this feeling that you have of making a mistake. It doesn't sound like you are going to shake it on your own and may require help from a professional.
posted by tafetta, darling! at 8:09 PM on August 7, 2019 [1 favorite]