Postpartum Thoughts, Please Go Away

I remember my friends warning me about postpartum depression. Possible effects to be aware of, they said. It reminded me of the days witnessing them crying and or being in a zombie like state, nonchalant and resenting their newborns.

I told myself, "I gotta be strong. All the women in my family are tough." But, apparently, I was not.

I remember coming home from the hospital and it creeping up on me. It whispered to my anxiety, intensified the pain I felt in my heart and in my head. I cried holding my baby. I could not hold him much longer. I had my husband hold him. Then ran to the bathroom.

There, I sat on the floor and allowed the tears to stream out of my eyes. I could not keep my head up. I buried my face in my arms on my lap and cried. Then I hugged my knees and legs, puzzled with emotion.

What I felt was not resentment. It was fear and sadness. Does my child love me? Am I doing a good job? Is he safe? I cannot protect him anymore.

The vivid thoughts kept repeating itself, continuing to both aggravate and frighten me. I felt like these were reruns of horror show playing nonstop in my mind. One would be of my child falling down the stairs. Another, someone kidnapped him and placed him a roller coaster. The scariest was him helplessly falling into a pool while still in his car seat.

Strange and irrational, right? I kept reminding myself they were not real.

"He was fine," everyone told me, "he is fine. FINE! Stop panicking."

Okay, I told them, let me just flip the switch and be FINE like you are all telling me.

I hated these painful thoughts and fears.

My doctor suggested attending Mommy and Me classes, which helped. I realized I was not alone. These women, new mommies like me, felt the same. It is okay how you are feeling. Talk about it. You are safe. You are both safe. You are doing a tremendous job.

Eight months later, I am back working and having fun with my son. The thoughts will check up on me now and again, but I am breathing better.

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