by Katia

I never thought having a baby would affect me so much. I often wonder if I was really ready, and at the same time I wonder what "really" really means. There are so many emotions, good and not so good, literally jumbled in me. So many thoughts that can't be put into words. So much sadness without a "logical" reason to blame It on. So much guilt for everything I feel I should be and don't feel I am.

I decided now, after being postpartum depressed for 12 months (possibly more), to try to explain what "it" feels like. I think I have gone through the hardest time...and that makes me so happy.

So many times I have been ashamed about this. I have come to realize, through my learning, that too many people have no idea what "it" really is. What hurts the most is being misunderstood.

"It's all in your head... you're fine, you have a beautiful baby, a nice home, a loving husband... isn't that enough?"

"You should be thankful your baby is healthy... there are a lot of people worse off than you, you know!"

I empathize with all the mothers who convince themselves that they are OK and bury these strong emotions and doubts and fears and tears because we're not supposed to feel this badly when we have a baby. And we live like this for so long (sometimes years), feeling so empty, useless and ugly, and alone. Only a few of us whisper for help, half expecting a little more ridicule or criticism, or worse... judgement.

Usually, as with me, we ask our doctor if what we're feeling is "normal". Hopefully, as with me, the doctor introduces the Pacific Post Partum Support Society (it's OK...it's not a dirty word!). Likely, as with me, it will take a couple of weeks or months and a very bad day where you stop and realize you can"t go on feeling this way, at least not alone. And you finally work up the nerve to dial the number, and find enough courage to tell the person on the other end that you need help. The person who took my call was someone who had also been through this depression. I sobbed for a long time, not knowing what to say, really, or how to describe what I felt. When I managed to speak, she listened. No advice, no criticism... she just listened, and understood.

I initially thought I could work through the bad days with constant thoughts of just ending it all. I thought so much about everything that I couldn't even sleep at night. With a child who didn't sleep for long periods of time, I was so exhausted I felt like I wasn't really living anyway. I felt like my life was a dream and I was floating through it... crying and hating it. I could only "rationalize" things to myself because nobody else understood. And I convinced myself I would feel better "tomorrow" because everyone told me I would.

Until I called the PPPSS, I had no idea what I would be facing, had I gone it alone. I may not have been writing about my experience because all too often dying seemed like the only way to "rest". That thought scares me now because I'm healing, and I shudder at the thought of leaving my family.

I am convinced that I've gotten to this point thanks to being understood by women who have felt the exact same way. All of us who go through it, go through depression differently, but I remember the first night I attended my support group. As I was nervously describing how I felt, there were nods from the other women. We'd never met before, knew nothing of each other except our first names... and finally I had found someone who really understood.

That was the first step, and the first time in a long time where I felt OK. I was a bit confused (actually, a lot), but I still felt OK because these women knew exactly how I felt, without having to try to explain it all in great detail. That is so hard to do anyway. I believe these women felt my pain just like I felt theirs. Finally, I felt safe with my feelings, and also safe with myself. Others experience the exact same thing -- I am not alone, and I finally believe that.

Now, with sheer determination to beat this uncontrollably self-abusive illness, I'm seeing that light at the end of the tunnel, and it is getting closer. I can now start to enjoy all the things, or most anyway, that I'd forgotten how to enjoy. I look at the sky and day dream pleasant dreams, I enjoy being creative with my crafts, I wear make-up again, I play pat-a-cake with my son without worrying about all the things I should be doing around the house (and "shoulds" don't feel good!). I still have issues of guilt to deal with. I still have low self esteem. I still feel I can be better at everything I do (it's never good enough, is it!), but I can look at it differently now. Instead of beating myself up about it, I try to look at it as a goal. I don't believe anyone is perfect, so how could I expect that of myself? It may take me the rest of my life of trying...and I can handle that, as long as I feel OK in the process.

One thing I feel very strongly about is that postpartum depression should not be swept under the rug. It should not be ignored or shrugged upon. I'll feel forever indebted to all those who helped me get better, and who made me rea1ize that having experienced this doesn't make me a bad person. I am a caring, giving, loving and forgiving person, and being depressed just made me forget that I am worth taking care of and being loved.

In the end, I can say that old cliche: "Time...is a great healer".

And my daily motto: " You do the best you can, with what you have, at the time".

And tomorrow's another day.... Katia