The Aftermath

In the last post John pointed out that I had forgotten a few details of Bub's birth.
It's true that I left them out, but they weren't forgotten.
I hadn't put them in just yet because they seemed to open up into a whole 'nother topic.

When Analee was born I could feel that rush of oxytocin (read about that here).  Bub came out and there was no such rush.  At all.

But before I get into this too much I want to make something clear-the emotions I was dealing with are in no way a description of how I feel about Bub.  While he was born at the peak of my depression he is in no way a manifestation or cause of it.  Bub, if you're reading this years from now, I love you so deeply and fiercely.  Fiercely enough that I pulled out of it.  You're incredible and I am truly blessed to have you as my son.

Okay, moving on now.  They put this baby on my chest.  I was in denial.  I did not just have a baby.  All of that did not just happen.  And there is this thing on top of me.
"It's going to roll off, someone should grab it."  I don't know if anyone actually heard me.  So I stuck out a finger to stop him from falling.
"Seriously, someone take it."  And a nurse did.
I tried not to look at anyone.
A few minutes later he was cleaned and swaddled.  A sweet nurse came back with him "Mommy, baby bonding time!".  She was really sweet.  But I didn't think so at the time.
Out of obligation (you know, since she was so happy about it) I took him.
I didn't look at him.
I looked around.
Impatiently waiting until she left.

The moment she grabbed the doorknob "John, take it."
John:  "Don't you want-"
"Take it."

And that could pretty much describe the next couple months.

And the previous year...or more.

You see, once I got help (a few weeks after Bub was born) we realized that I had been dealing with post-partum depression since some point during my pregnancy with Analee.
Yep, post-partum depression can start while you're pregnant. 
Not so cool, right?

Looking back I think two main things prevented us from recognizing the depression.  First, a lack of information, and second, culture.

The first is pretty straight forward.  We didn't know about it or expect it.  My doctor, during my pregnancy with Analee, had gone over risk factors with me.  But I thought the whole idea was ridiculous.  Why wouldn't I be thrilled?  We were trying to get pregnant.  We wanted to have a family.  And as I had never experienced depression before the thought that I would now was absurd to me.  When it did come, neither John nor I knew what was going on.  Often I found myself thinking "so this is life now" or "why do people want to be parents?".  As it seemed that life became miserable once I had kids.

I want to clarify-parenting is not actually miserable, depression is.

Of course, our naivete was aided by factor #2-culture.
People don't talk about post-partum depression.  It has been, culturally, a source of shame.
While I was pregnant with Analee, well, I was pregnant.  Any unusual behavior was attributed to that.  Once I was into my pregnancy with But I think we could both tell something was seriously wrong.  John, not one to take our lives into public view (or ask for help, for that matter) was desperate enough to start asking around.  The response he often got was that pregnancy made women crazy.
Generally when I asked other moms about being a new mother the responses were anything from "It's so much easier once they get on a schedule" to "enjoy every moment, they grow up so fast".
But I wasn't enjoying it.  In fact, I couldn't remember how to enjoy anything.

I don't know if anyone actually wants to hear how it felt so for now I'll just skip those bits.  Needless to say, life was dark and sad and seemingly hopeless.

I remember being in the hospital after Bub was born and getting a call from my visiting teacher-a wonderful lady from church who was asked to help out if I needed anything (awesome, right?). 
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
"No."
"Oh, were you about to go to sleep?"
"No."
I couldn't figure out why she kept thinking that I was needing sleep and why talking to me seemed to confuse her.  I found out later she quietly made a phone call (or two?  I don't really know) and by the time my mom got here she had gotten a heads up that something wasn't right.