When I got pregnant with my second, I was shocked and extremely nervous. My first was only seven-months old and was and still is a huge mamas boy. I felt SO much guilt. I didn’t think I’d be able to spread my love between both of my babies.
Fast forward to when I was around 32 weeks pregnant. I was running after a toddler and my husband was working a lot. He’s a fireman. I begun feeling overwhelmed, sad, and depressed. I’ve never felt depressed a day in my life. Anxiety, yes, because I absolutely had undiagnosed postpartum anxiety with my first.
As each day went on, I began to resent myself for getting pregnant so quickly and I began to resent the baby growing inside of me. This is when I KNEW something was wrong. I have always wanted to be a mother, so I knew this wasn’t right.
I delivered a healthy baby in May. I was discharged two days later and that’s when it started. Sleep deprivation almost killed me. I began having suicidal thoughts. I almost left my family in the middle of the night. I knew where I’d go too. I’d jump off the closest bridge. I also couldn’t stop crying. I hated being alone with my kids. Even if my husband was just taking a shower, I’d wish for him to hurry up.
I had overwhelming anxiety, intrusive thoughts and then OCD started to kick in. I called my OBs office and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I said to the receptionist through tears, “I think I have postpartum depression.”
She forwarded my call to the nurse where she asked if I was suicidal. Too embarrassed to actually admit I was, I said no, but I did say I wanted to run away. She told me I “just had the baby blues,” and that was that.
I cried so hard because I knew I needed help, but I wasn’t getting it. I called a week later and said, “Please help me. I need to see my doctor.” I saw him the next day and he asked me a bunch of questions. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and borderline psychosis. I was placed on medication and went into therapy.
I’m four months postpartum now and am a work in progress. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. Thank god for my husband. He’s saving my life without knowing it. If anyone feels like this please know you’re not alone. Advocate for yourself because the mental health industry is broken.