I knew well before I gave birth to Little Oats that I would need to be on the lookout for PPD. I’ve dealt with depression and anxiety for the majority of my life, and I remained on a mild dose of antidepressants throughout my pregnancy. Screening tests at the midwife gave me a high likelihood of PPD, and by the time I had gone through the emotional ups and downs of a long labour, I would have written myself a prescription if I could.

By three days postpartum, the crying was nonstop. Not Little Oats’ crying…mine. Everything set me off, and I found that as soon as it started to get dark outside, I got an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Any new mama is going to struggle with exhaustion and emotions, but this was just the beginning of something much darker.

Late one night, as I was walking Little Oats in circles trying to calm her down, an image flashed through my brain. ‘What if I dropped her?‘ I gripped her extra tight, now carefully watching each of my steps to make sure I didn’t stumble or fall.

Later in the week, as I was coming down the stairs, I got a vivid picture in my head of slipping down the stairs. It wouldn’t go away, and I was nauseous, panicked and absolutely terrified that something might happen to Little Oats.

This continued to happen at various points during the day. I won’t share some of the more disturbing scenarios I imagined; they still haunt me to this day. I was never afraid that I would hurt Little Oats, but there was a deep-seated fear that something out of my control would happen. I couldn’t leave the house, because I was worried about driving with her. I couldn’t make myself lunch while holding her, for fear of spilling something on her or dropping her. Every time I panicked about something, I scolded myself. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t be a normal human being? Was this the ‘postpartum psychosis’ that is whispered about behind closed doors and in the most gruesome of newspaper articles?

ADVERTISEMENT

At the same time, I was sinking deeper and deeper into a depression. As it got dark outside, I would dread the upcoming night, knowing that I couldn’t just crawl into bed and go to sleep. During the day, the endless repetition of eat-play-eat-maybe sleep-eat some more was dragging me down. I would cry as Mr. O left for work in the morning, and stare at Little Oats, wondering what on earth she did to deserve a defective mama.

At one of my follow up appointments with my midwife, I shared some of my worries, the panic attacks and the crying jags. I knew it was beyond the baby blues, but at the same time, I didn’t know what to do to help myself.

She instantly recommended that I increase my dose of antidepressants, knowing that I had success with the same medication in the past. I agreed to do so, but also took her advice to schedule a follow up with my family doctor.

My family doctor was less than helpful. He had me rate myself on the postpartum depression scale, barely listened to my concerns about my pervasive thoughts, and wrote me a prescription for a heavy duty anti-anxiety medication. It was not safe for breastfeeding, and he told me I could take until the end of the week to fully wean Little Oats before starting to take it (she was three months old). Having dealt with a good deal of medications in the past, I knew there had to be an alternative. I wasn’t comfortable giving up a successful breastfeeding relationship when I’d only been given one option. Since my doctor refused to talk about other methods of treatment, I booked an appointment with my naturopath.

After a few meetings and emails back and forth with my naturopath, we had a course of action mapped out. I would continue taking my antidepressants, but we would use alternative medicines to help combat the worst of the anxiety. Through a combination of mega-dose Vitamin D, some homeopathics, and B-complex vitamins, I began to feel better. The pervasive thoughts vanished, I wasn’t devastated each time Mr. O left the house, and I began to venture outside.

At almost a year post-partum, anxiety and depression are still a very real part of my life. I will most likely be on my medication for the long term, but that’s okay. I’m not less of a person for needing some help. The anxiety creeps up on me, especially surrounding new situations. My heart breaks a little, knowing I wished away so many of those precious newborn days. And at the same time I am grateful for how quickly I was able to get my symptoms under control.

If you’re struggling with pervasive thoughts, panic, or anything that seems out of the ordinary (ie not just the baby blues), please seek help. Whether it’s medication, counselling, or alternative therapies, know that you are not alone. If we talk about postpartum mood disorders, the stigma will have to vanish. We are still wonderful mothers, despite our deepest worries and fears.