Postpartum Depression, Missing the first Month

A few months ago I was able to go to my home in Idaho to visit my parents.  Living in Illinois this is a rare opportunity, and I was so very grateful for it.  It was also my son's first flight.  Things weren't the greatest on the flight, but we got there, and it was a much needed vacation.  There was one experience I had there that really broke my heart though.  One day while my dad was at work my mom, son, and I took him lunch.  While we were sitting there eating our lunch I saw a picture of a baby on one of my dad's book shelves.  I thought it was of my nephew, the newest addition to the family, but I was confused because the baby was wrapped up in a blanket that I knew Elijah had, and it had been made for him.  After much discussion it was decided that the picture was actually of my son.  Then the guilt hit.  I didn't even recognize my own child.  It has bothered me since it happened.  As I've thought about it though, I realized the reason why I didn't recognize my son as a newborn in that photograph, and that's because I basically missed the first month of his life.

I'll never forget the joy I felt as I held my son for the first time.  It had been a long labor ending in an emergency c-section, but he was here now, and that was all that mattered.  Those first two or three days were wonderful, but as time came to actually go home and start being a mom without a nursery to send my baby to whenever I wanted a nap, things starting getting ugly.  As my discharge from the hospital was getting closer, more and more nurses came pouring in with information, suggestions, papers to sign, and so on.  It was a lot for me, and I felt very overwhelmed.  I ended up breaking down near the end, feeling that I would not be able to do this and not wanting to leave the hospital.  The time came to leave though, so my husband and I packed up our son and our belongings and headed out the door.  Coming home was fun at first.  We live with my in-laws and they had balloons and everything to welcome us home.  Like most newborns my son basically slept the first few days, but after those few days he began waking up more, and crying more.  That's when the post postpartum depression and anxiety started really settling in.  Within days I was almost inconsolable.  Anxiety attacks were coming several times a day, and I had no desire to be around my newborn.  Being with him scared me, and caused me even more anxiety.  Thankfully I live with three other amazing adults, especially my mother in law, who was willing and able to step up to the plate and help me through this hard time.  After two or three weeks I finally sought medical help, and about two months after my son was born, I was finally able to be by myself with him and enjoy his presence, but I lost that first month.  During his first month of life I wasn't really there to snuggle, hold, and caress him.  Sometimes I was physically there, but emotionally I was never there.  I had fallen so far into a pit of depression and despair that I don't really remember any feelings from that first month, and that is painful for me.  That is why I didn't recognize my son's picture in my dad's office.  I was unable to emotionally connect with my son until month two or so, and that is hard for me.  Looking through his baby book is depressing.  Going through the motion of things I did record things, but only one word answers and nothing energetic.  I am fixing that now, and continue to look for the light.

The light that is being able to now enjoy being with my child.  The light that is being able to hear him cry and not crying myself.  The light that is having him through a tantrum, and being able deal with it.  The light that is being alone with him all day, and being able to do so and even enjoy it.

Sometimes the guilt will try to set back in that I missed the first month of his life, but when it does, I remember that it was just the first month, and there are many, many others to come.  Sure I still have days where it is a trial to be with him, but those days are now intermixed with days of joy and days of being a mom and loving it.  In the end, it's OK that I missed his first month.  When he came to this earth he knew who his mom was going to be, and he loves me, depression and all.  I feel that when he looks at me and snuggles on my shoulder.  He is OK with me missing his first month, because now I'll be with him for all the rest.

Be strong, for we can do hard things,

Lacey Miller