About two weeks ago, I finally got the courage up to see a doctor about my post pardum anxiety and depression. My doctor put me on Zoloft and set me up with a therapist to talk to. I see my therapist on Tuesday, but in the last two weeks on Zoloft I have seen a huge improvement in my outlook on life.
I'm about to get real personal here, so brace yourselves.
In the beginning, when Evie was tiny and fresh, I had this strength that I didn't know was there. I used it all up to get through her NICU stay. When she came home, I rode this wave of relief and excitement powered by adrenaline. I hit cruising speed at about 4 months. In those first 4 months, the pediatrician always had a pre-visit survey to gauge how new moms were doing themselves. I always felt I could answer "just as happy or happier" and "not sad at all". After the 4 month visit, those questionnaires went away. And that's exactly when I began to feel this cloud looming over me.
At first it was just some panic here and there. We bedshare and I would wake up and feel the need to check Evie's breathing. I would sleep with my hand on her chest if she wasn't nursing. Then I started having bad dreams. Pretty soon I didn't want to sleep at all. I would stay up on my phone, distracting myself from sleep because it always meant waking up with my heart pounding and sometimes full-on crying.
The daytime wasn't so bad. I would have moments of panic, but mostly I could distract myself. But even daytime ended up falling victim to my depression. I lost the desire to leave the house at all. I didn't want to stay home either though, because the dishes needed to be done and the laundry was piling up. I couldn't get out of bed til mid afternoon some days. At the worst, I would have only just woken up when Gavin would come home from work.
I confided my affliction to a few people. My mom, Gavin, a couple friends. They told me to seek help, but it's much easier said than done. You see, on top of my depression and anxiety was this fear. Probably from watching too many episodes of Forensic Files. I thought if anyone found out I was suffering, they'd immediately assume I was going to hurt my precious little girl. And I could never dream of such a thing. I thought about mentioning my predicament to the pediatrician at her 6 month appointment but I chickened out. I thought they'd take Evie away. I was scared to tell anyone the deepest, darkest details and I couldn't find that courage to make the phone call.
Luckily, I have one friend in particular who is a real motivator. She helped me figure out who to call and promised me that no one would try to take Evie away over me feeling overwhelmed. She promised me I was a good mom and that it is 100% normal for this to happen. And she was right! One in ten new moms experiences PPD/Anxiety. That might not sound like much, but it is. And doctors are more than willing to help you if you call on them.
In the last two weeks I have watched myself go from the shell of who I used to be to a better me. I know that sounds cheesy. I am not where I want to be just yet, but with a little dosage tinkering and some therapy, I think I can be.
It sure as hell feels great just to be able to sleep again.
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