This is a big moment for me. I’m still unsteady and raw. Every day brings its own set of challenges, but every day I keep fighting. Some days I don’t know why, but I truly believe deep down there is a force within each of us to hold on for just a little longer.
Be warned that this post might be difficult to read at times, but I need it to be honest and true. Someone might need to hear the things I have to say to know that they’re okay.
About a week and a half before I gave birth to Maggie I broke down and had these feelings of fear. I told Grant that I felt like a horrible mother already. I’d been having feelings of wanting to drop Maggie off at a fire station or give her up for adoption. Writing that now, it seems like the most ridiculous thought and at the time I knew it was because I loved my daughter so incredibly much without even having met her yet. If I could go back I would tell my hormonal mommy-to-be self that I was just afraid and overwhelmed. I wasn’t being a bad mom, I was letting the fear of being a bad mom take over.
I also would have told myself to buckle up, because little did I know those were merely the first signs of an entirely different ride.
When I held Maggie for the first time, I can’t say there was a rush of feelings. I mostly just felt tired. In fact, there was a slight disconnect. I felt a connection more and more as the hospital stay went on, but after arriving home it was hit and miss.
I began to go through the normal new parent schedule with an hour and a half of sleep a night and the constant cycle of breastfeeding, changing diaper, then a nap over and over. I loved it and hated it all at the same time.
Then, two weeks after giving birth to Maggie I called the doctors’ office to ask a simple question and they began to question me about seemingly odd things. That resulted in a trip to their office the following day, where I scored a 27 on the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression scale. A 10 means you for sure have Postpartum Depression.
I had talked to Grant about this while I was pregnant and going through all of the what ifs. Never did I actually think that it would happen. My entire motherhood mantra seemed like a joke. I had been telling myself all along, “my daughter doesn’t need a perfect mom, just a happy mom.” All I could do was think how ironic.
So I started on meds and we went about our not-so-merry way.
A month later we were in the emergency room.
It was 1 in the morning on October 8th and Grant was sleeping. He’d been getting just as little sleep as I had. I finished putting Maggie down and life just seemed like a black hole. I stared at the knife block in our kitchen and all I could feel was the desire to plunge our largest one into my sternum. It seemed like a great idea and all the fibers of my being were saying go for it, you’ll feel so much better. A small cry from the baby brought me back to reality and the reality of what I was about to do hit me. Tears were streaming down my face and I went in and woke Grant up. I needed help.
I fought going to the hospital all the way, crying and telling Grant, “we can wait, it will pass.” As we arrived to the hospital, however, Grant’s eyes filled with tears and that was all the motivation I needed. I never wanted my husband to hurt or be afraid, so I succumbed to the process as best I could.
We waited in the E.R.. Upon being seen they treated my arms, which I had been nervously scratching and tearing at the flesh of without knowing it. Then we were assigned a social worker. We discussed the possibilities of either going on a 72 hour suicide watch or being sent to a facility for just a couple of days. Grant and I did a lot of talking and were leaning towards the idea of the facility but then we talked with the social worker again and I decided on the 72 hour watch. She left the room and when she came back she said that she didn’t want to issue an order for me to go against my will, but that she would if we chose the option of going home.
At that point I was terrified.
Absolutely terrified.
Grant’s parents dropped off the baby so I could spend a few minutes with her prior to leaving. It was close to 7 in the morning and my mom had been driving up from California to help take care of the baby. Instead she got there with only minutes to spare in seeing me off.
I will never forget looking out the back window of an ambulance watching my husband, my baby, and my mother shedding tears and getting smaller.
In that moment I felt more alone than I have ever felt. I was being taken over an hour up north to a place where I would only see my family during visitation hours. I felt lost and confused in the whirlwind that had been the last 8 hours. And I felt tired. So tired.
I am ever so grateful for my husband, our parents, the nurses, the social workers that were all in tune with the Spirit that night. I am also incredibly grateful for my baby’s small cry for had I not heard her I doubt I would be here today.
My weakness is still a weakness, but my ability to ask for help has grown to be a strength. Don’t ever hesitate when you are in need. No matter WHAT the situation is, big or small. Especially if you’re just not sure you need it. Chances are you do.