Post Partum Depression is More than Just a Week of Baby Blues

New mothers need support especially those with a history of mental illness.

In Remembrance of New Mothers…

No one knows a mother like another mother; however, there is very little empathy given from the “know-it-all” type of mother. The one who thinks she has motherhood figured all out, when behind closed doors she suffers like the rest of us.

Comments like “why would she do that to her children” and “I would never do that to mine” fall quickly from mother’s lips when they don’t bother to understand, nor reach out to help their sister in need.

From mental illness to poverty, young, old and new mothers everywhere try to make sense of their relationships with loved ones, financial issues, and other challenges while trying to appear as if they are really happy with their lives to avoid public scrutiny.

A decision to give her cheating husband just one more chance, because he is the baby’s father only to find out he has cheated yet again has contributed to many mothers losing it! The idea that he has abused her trust yet again can be too much for any woman’s mindset.

Sometimes you have to stop and think about that woman passing you by with her whining children in tote. Does she have a man in her life who has done something to her that affected her mental well-being why she suddenly snaps out on her child, throws him in the car seat and speeds out the parking lot like a raging bull?

After carrying a child for nine months, some new mothers find out that their husbands aren't interested in being fathers --just one more thing to add to the symptoms new mothers feel during postpartum depression. Then there is the menopausal mother over 40 with 20 plus years of marriage behind her who finds out that her once loving mate is no longer interested in her or the children, because he is having a midlife crisis of his own.

These situations are real and they can send any woman over the edge. If you have ever wondered why the children end up drowned in the bathtub, left in a garbage dump, or dropped off at someone’s doorstep, consider this, the mother’s mind has retired, it's no longer in service.

She didn’t just check out the day the children were crying and fighting too much. She exhibited signs of losing control way before she did something to her children. Check her paper trail. She was mentally drained from her unhappy life when she called her friend sobbing uncontrollably.

She complained that her children’s father was never home. Her anger was brewing when she tried to get someone to watch her children, but her husband used manipulative tactics to make her feel guilty about leaving the house to get a job, go to church, take some time for herself, or go out with her friends.

So is abusing or murdering a child an excuse for a mother burdened by life? Of course not! However, when organizations tell women not to murder their unborn child, these same organizations are not their on the postpartum depression floors of every hospital in America. They are not escorting these women home and assisting them around the house for a week or more until the blues passes.

There are challenges awaiting at home when the new mother leaves the hospital: a disgruntled husband or boyfriend, an elderly relative who can’t handle baby cries, more children, an unclean home, and unpaid bills, are all issues that a new mother is still expected to handle while being bent over from a C-section operation or struggling from a vaginal delivery.

My sisters, where is the refrigerator magnet with the 1800# included with her free diaper bag that says, “Call us when you are feeling like you want to hurt your child?” It would be nice to see a pretty colored envelope with a letter inside stating, “We understand the crying at times will get on your nerves, call us and we will get someone to come to your home right away!”

So consider all of these things the next time you see a new mother walking by you with her belly stuck out ready to deliver any day now, or being pushed in a wheelchair with a new baby in her arms...please say a prayer for her, she will need it!


Written by Nicholl McGuire
http://www.associatedcontent.com/nichollmcguire

Declaring One's Self an Unfit Mother

It happened suddenly without notice. I was on the phone talking to my grandmother and then I began breathing heavily. I was struggling to stand, feeling faint I mumbled something to her over the phone, then I hung up. I dialed my fiance's phone number slowly -- it seemed like it took forever and then I realized I couldn't speak, I gave the phone to my two year old who was standing there observing my desposition. He told his daddy, "Mommy needs to go to sleep." He repeated again, "Mommy go to sleep." At this point I managed to climb over my toddler's security fencing fearing I might fall down and bump my head on a wooden desk that sat nearby. I took baby steps to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. I still had enough strength to roll over on my back and that's when the seizures began. I was coherent. I knew that my body was shaking and I heard the little footsteps run into my bedroom, "Stop shaking mommy -- stop it!" My toddler jumped on the bed, patting me on my chest with his little brown hands, with tears in his eyes, he cried, "Stop it." He rubbed my chest, "It will be okay mommy." He jumped off the bed, ran into the living room, and I heard him screaming in the phone, "Daddy, Daaadddy!" He sobbed. He ran back into my bedroom. He looked at me. He was crying, but he somehow got himself together and when my seizures began to calm, he laid his head on my chest.

Meanwhile, his brother was sound asleep in the next bedroom. He never knew what was happening. The seizures started up again. My toddler runs out of the bedroom and into the living room. I hear the front door. His dad's footsteps come down the hall into the bedroom, he has my medicine in his hand. The seizures were violent moving me to and fro on the bed and I felt my eyes big and wide. Then there was another moment of calm. I was staring at his dad. He manages to hold me up and put a pill in my mouth. I swallow. Less than 20 minutes later the pills take effect and I am talking as if nothing ever happened.

I learned later that I had a panic anxiety disorder also known as a nervous breakdown. I remember prior to the seizures feeling stressed. I was in the process of sorting some things out in my personal and professional life. The day that I chose to talk to my grandmother was the day that I had let go of some things. I had a personal breakthrough, but I guess in order to get from there (being stressed) to here (finding peace) I had to go through a process.

This was the second attack of its kind and it reinforced a hidden secret I had about my self, I was an unfit mother. I couldn't be trusted at home with the children. I had seen different doctors and they all said that my test results were normal. I had prayed with believers and even they said, "Everything would be fine, just trust in the Lord." All of this was nice to hear, but my fiance and I knew the truth, everything wasn't fine and the reality was that something was setting the attacks off and neither I or the doctors knew.

However, there was an antidepressant that I was taking at the time and of course the doctor who prescribed it was quick to defend it, but after conducting research of my own, I learned that other mothers who had been prescribed the same drug for postpartum blues had similar side effects. The drug was Paxil. For some mothers, they boasted on the effects of this "miracle drug." But for others, the results weren't so positive. Some complained of everything from an increase in weight gain to an increase in depression. When I reflected on my various bodily and mental changes while on this drug, I found that it started out helping me, like the other I took in the past, but then gradually became my own worst enemy.

This was supposed to be the solution to another drug I had been on which was Lexapro. I had learned that doctors will switch from drug to drug until something works. So while they were trying to figure out what my issues were, I was a mother at home with two little ones and I was expected to be a "fit" mother at all times. Well that gradually became more and more of a challenge for me, so much in fact that I suspected my sons' father was formulating his own opinions in his head about me. "I don't know if I can trust her with our children." Understandably so, that was why I had to reach a conscience decision to allow the professional childcare agencies to take care of them or a relative. I knew that I couldn't continue to be at home with them by myself for over 10 hours a day, five days a week. I had reached the end of my stay-at-home mother routine.

So I tell this story not to gain sympathy, but I tell it so that one can have the boldness and courage, who may be in a similar situation, to declare one's self an unfit mother. Oh yes being an unfit mother has negative connotations and we often think of drug and child abusers, but anytime you can't take care of your children for a limited time or for a lifetime the court, society, even your relatives and friends will deem you unfit. Of course, there are nicer ways of putting it, "unable to care for, not well, disabled, handicapped..." whatever you choose to describe your situation is up to you. But the bottom line is don't wait for someone else to make that declaration for you like the police, child enforcement authorities, a judge, your ex-husband, etc. If you can't take care of the children, you just can't! It's better to trust someone else who you know is more mentally capable to handle them until you can get the help you need. I think of all the women who were so far gone mentally that they couldn't or wouldn't ask for help. Then one day they suddenly snapped and that's when they and society started screaming, "Help!" often when it's too late.

Postpartum Blues: One Mother Shares Her Story

After delivering my last son of four, I am taken to a hospital room floor for women recovering from C-sections followed by postpartum blues. I had my share of the blues! The night before it was time for me to go home, I cried. I had an ache that crawled inside of me and sat in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, I became afraid, I didn’t want to go home I told my nurse. She asked me, “Why?” She had a look on her face as if she was preparing herself for me to say that I had an abusive partner at home, was unable to financially care for the child, or relatives who didn’t care. Instead, I told her I didn’t want to go home, because I didn’t know what to expect. My partner didn’t seem happy about being a father for the second time and I was unsure about him being very helpful to me. I had no family or friends that would be coming over. Then I cried. I cried harder about going home more than I ever did about staying in the hospital.

She was sympathetic. She had shared a story with me of her own relationship drama. She didn’t like going home herself, because she was alone. Her mate had been away for months now on “business” and she didn’t know when he would be returning. She had offered to pray for me and then just like that she was gone. I wanted her to stay longer, and tell me more about this partner who had been gone for so long on “business,” but I didn’t dare ask any more questions that would have kept her with me any longer, since there were plenty more women on that floor who probably had even worse issues. I guess the idea of being a mother for a fourth time, my partner’s “true” reaction to it and my being so far away from home (I live 3,000 miles away from everyone I know), brought those ugly blues out into the open.

The next day my boyfriend showed up with flowers (I had asked for,) so that I could give them out to the hospital staff that helped me. Surprisingly, there were a few in the bunch he had picked up for me that I hadn‘t requested. I say “surprisingly” because when he came to see me in the hospital the night before, I was irritable due to our oldest child being fretful, loud and his father not being able to control him. I was in pain and just couldn’t handle the temper tantrums, I’m sure you could understand if you are a mother, so I was tearful, I wanted him and my noisy child to go home. He brought none of his family to help him with our child or maybe none was available. Whatever the case, I had recently given birth and I was sick and tired of being tired.

You may have had emotional lows too and all you wanted was for your partner to be understanding, but no matter what you said or did, he still didn’t act a little bit interested. Babies change relationships. I haven’t seen one where things got better as a result of having a baby. Men “act different” when their lovers become mothers. He never sees you the same way, for some men they may fall in love harder, but for many they are looking for the next woman who they didn’t have children with to compliment, encourage, entertain, feed and ultimately have sex with them, simply because she doesn’t have those “issues” that motherhood brings. The new woman has never said and did anything that offended him, but he has a history with the old one. A history of watching her vomit because the baby has upset her stomach, being a victim of her occasional mood swings, and seeing her body go through undesirable changes.

Having children brings out the best and worst of anyone. They tap on emotions you didn’t think you had. They cause you to reach new levels of love, compassion, anger, sadness and any other feeling inside you may not have ever experienced. Whether you are a stay-at-home mother, working or retired mother you can relate.

My one week of emotional highs and lows came and went. With each passing day, I became stronger mentally and physically. The baby’s cries would trigger a negative reaction within me, but I didn’t dwell in the negativity, I just answered his demands and did what needed to be done. I was too busy to think about whether I was happy or sad about my newborn. For over a month, the baby needed something every two hours each day and night. There were times when dad was a help and there were times where I might as well been alone.

I couldn’t recall when was the last time I cried about anything related to the baby. My newborn did enough crying for the both of us as he grew older. Instead, my tears behind closed doors were for his dad...

To read more about Ms. McGuire's ordeal, get her book entitled When Mothers Cry available on Amazon.com.

Written by Nicholl McGuire for more writings by this writer visit Click Here!