My pregnancy was fairly easy to be honest. I was undiagnosed, but physically my child was healthy. I think I threw up once because I brushed my teeth wrong but that was it. I was blessed to have an easy time, even if the aftermath wasn’t the best time.
I had an emergency c-section because the baby was in distress. After recovering, I was up visiting baby in the NICU. For six days I got up every three hours to saunter my way to feed my little human. Breastfeeding is a hell of a challenge, and it was not getting his glucose levels up, so I did half and half.
The postpartum depression started almost immediately. Over night my life drastically changed. Even though I knew it was coming, I didn’t fully understand what it meant.
At my moms home we switched caring for baby while the men did their own thing. It wasn’t my ideal situation, but I was happy for the help. I lasted five months before thinking a job would fix me. One job turned into another, and from my previous post you can see how I spiraled.
I was treated for depression with medication and that worked for a time. My signs of PPD were depression, guilt, anxiety, trouble doing tasks, lack of motivation and crying a lot.
During my pregnancy I feel like I was manic. I was in full mom mode, impulse buying furniture and decorations and a sewing machine. However, as soon as baby arrived, I hit my lowest low. It wasn’t my child at all. In fact, I would love to have more one day, but now that I am diagnosed I feel it will be in interesting ride.
I hope one day I can explain it effectively to my child that they understand me and my love for them.