Paddling with My Head Out of the Water

I've been wanting to write about the "rest of the story" of my postpartum depression for a few months now, but this past week my husband spoke a catalyst for my ideas (not an uncommon occurrence!). He was encouraging me about my mothering abilities and he reminded me of something he'd predicted before our daughter was born: He'd said I would take to being a mom like a duck takes to water. However, he reflected, now I was finally paddling with my head out of the water, able to see around me, whereas for the first eight months or so, I had been swimming in the pond with my head under the water the whole time (still paddling away, being a good mom, just not really enjoying it much).

What a funny image, a duck paddling through a murky pond with its head continuously underwater. That is rather what life felt like in the months after little girl was born. Though I was functioning (albeit at minimal levels sometimes), everything seemed muddy, thick, and dark. Some of what I was feeling I put into an earlier post, and now it's time to tell what happened that brought my head out of the water.

Midway through February of this year I got a terrible stomach bug. This thing was more like a stomach giant squid. I was knocked out flat (literally flat on the floor or the bed most of the time) for a few days, and my mom had to come take care of little one so I could rest and recover and suck on ice chips. After almost a week of dehydration and exhaustion, I went to the doctor, thinking I was also having panic attacks (turns out I was probably dizzy from dehydration). This sickness is what finally drove me to go see a doctor about not only the physical illness, but the mental/psychological/emotional one I had been suffering as well. The week that I was temporarily unable to physically care for my daughter showed me I needed help in other areas, too!

On the way to the doctor and throughout those few days I had conversations with my husband, sister, parents, grandma, cousin, and life-long best friend, who all encouraged me that medication for anxiety or depression could be the solution I needed. I was finally ready to be willing to go down that path if necessary, whereas I had always fought against medication as an option before. One thing that scared me about it now was that I was breastfeeding my daughter and our nursing relationship was very important to me. I knew that if we had to stop it suddenly, there would be a whole new mess of emotions tangled up in the weaning.

After seeing the doctor, whom I'd never met before (with my sister there for moral support), and waiting for a referral to a psychologist, something happened. My mom and sister and I had been planning on driving about five hours up to our old home town to attend a friend's baby shower at the end of February. I'd been a wreck about it (since traveling with my daughter that far seemed like an impending catastrophe to me at the time). I ended up deciding not to go. Then, the day before the dreaded road trip, something in me clicked and I got our stuff together and headed to my mom's house to get ready to do the road trip. The four of us made it through the weekend. Lots of brick walls in my mind crumbled during that trip. Forced to be flexible, I saw that flexibility could actually work.

For a couple of weeks after the trip, what I can only describe as a mini miracle took place in my mind and emotions. It was like a switch had gone off in my brain (my husband agrees). I'm not sure if it was biological (diet change?), hormonal (always in flux!), or just plain supernatural (God is at work, after all!), but God allowed me to have positive thoughts and feelings about my daughter, our life, and myself. I cannot remember the last time I'd had such thoughts before that week. I cannot completely explain the kinds of thoughts I had, but they were like visions of the future that were memories at the same time. I envisioned slumber parties with my daughter where we would wear matching pajamas and watch movies. I saw Thanksgiving family gatherings for which we'd be baking and setting the table together. I felt warm feelings like the ones I feel during Christmastime (the highest praise coming from me - if anything is comparable to Christmas, in my mind, it's essentially the best it could possibly be). In short, I caught glimpses of the potential "warm fuzzies" in my family's future, and these insights changed my feelings for my daughter and for myself as a mom.

After a couple of weeks, the "feeling memories" stopped happening (they had been almost continuous for that time - an amazing gift from my Father!), but my changed emotional attitude remained. I was finally feeling more like myself again. A tired and sometimes bored out of my mind version of myself, but myself nonetheless, I was able to look about and see the beauty of the pond where I'm now swimming. And God allowed me to feel better without the aid of medication, so I was and am still able to breastfeed my daughter successfully and without concern. This little duck is still paddling, by God's grace!

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Note: From doing a bit of research I've learned there are some medications to alleviate depression that doctors prescribe to nursing mothers so they are able to continue nursing! When postpartum depression requires medication to help you get back to yourself, it's OK to get help in that way. God provides through medicines, too.