This is not a call for help nor seeking for attention. This is to share that what most moms are experiencing are real and I am here to share my story. This might be a trigger to some so read with caution.
Back story: Without indulging too much information, know that I do have a history of depression and anxiety that was unfortunately not diagnosed. I supposed just like most people, we sometimes dismissed it as being 'too emotional/ moody' and try to 'get over it'.
I did overcame depression after knowing Jhon. The thing is, I feel that we can never really get over the trauma or depression. It will always be there; simply locked in a room, in a little corner, just waiting for the right key to open it again.
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So when I was at my final trimester in my pregnancy, I did dread and wonder if post-natal depression would be that 'key'. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting or getting ready to have it. I did try thinking positive thoughts, focusing 1 thing at a time and all that jazz but clearly, it was futile.
Baby blues hit me first. To be honest, initially, I didn't realized I had it. I thought I was just being tired. I thought I was just in pain and focusing on trying to get well. It was days later when I was at home and alone with Sarah, I didn't have that warm connection mothers "should have".
When I looked at Sarah, I somehow cannot make sense that she just came out from me; that she was MY baby. I barely took photos of her and although I made a fuss of her such as feeding and such, it was only because I knew it was my responsibility. When I looked at her, she was a baby I had to take care and love but not necessarily MINE to.
2-3 weeks in, I was getting better. I moved around more, but slowly, the feeling of dread crept in. I was struggling with breastfeeding. I was physically and mentally tired. I was already struggling as a first time mom and my surroundings was not a relaxing one. Imagine barely getting yourself together and someone is using you as a psychologist to dump stress on.
Yes, I started to think suicidal thoughts again. I even joked about throwing Sarah away as a punishment for not sleeping well but I was a tiny bit serious about it. I was not in a good state of mind and thinking back, I still feel bad.
I was not okay.
On top of that, I also started to wake up with breathlessness; it felt as if I had stopped breathing and would wake up from deep slumber frantically gasping for air. I would cough viciously with bouts of nausea. I would sometimes feel light-headed or dizzy. These episodes were actually nothing new as I had experience this countless of times before. Back then, I didn't connect it to anything. To me, my body was doing that weird thingy again.
Jhon knew the comings and goings throughout my confinement but he didn't knew how deeply it affected me. He had been nothing but fantastic; being a great, hands on dad and husband.
It was only that 1 night out of many, he caught me inaudibly crying inconsolably. I eventually told him about my sinful thoughts and expecting him to think I was a horrible person. Of course, he didn't and insisted I ended my confinement early (barely reaching 44 days) and headed home. I refused at first but after I got to go out to send Sarah for her 1st month immunization and had a trial independent run/ stay back at our house (without outside help), I felt so much better.
Being out of a negative surrounding helped a lot with my depression. Unfortunately, my random nights of breathlessness and dizziness wakes were still active even after the confinement and went back to our place. It would happen 3-4 times a week and it would got so bad until I felt numbness on my limbs.
I eventually looked up my symptoms on the internet and the diagnosis for anxiety was plastered all over it. Of course, I was in utter denial and this continued until my post-natal check up with my gynae. Jhon insisted I brought it up to her and she confirmed it; post-natal anxiety, the unspoken cousin of post-natal depression. She naturally, recommended me to a psychologist and Jhon agreed.
Now, here's the thing.
I was skeptical about psychologists; I even told my gynae about it.
It's like what are they going to say that I don't know?
Think positive thoughts.
Take 1 step at a time.
Get over it.
Surround yourself in a good environment.
Eat healthy.
Exercise.
Don't think about it.
Pick a hobby.
Pray.
Talk about your thoughts and feelings.
Bla bla bla.
My doctor and Jhon simply nudged me in a comforting way to just give it a try. I told Jhon I would try 1 appointment and if I find it crap, I am done.
It turned out that my first consultation was just an intro and analysis of my situation. It was 2 hours long of me sharing whats going on in my brain. Of course, the water works came like a tsunami and I was glad Jhon was with me as my support system. I went to the root of my problems and declared I don't want to be on medication as I had a bad history with them.
Oh and nobody knows about this consultations except for Jhon (now, you all know lah). I feel it's always hard to explain to people who are either not empathetic or had never experienced bouts of uncontrollable emotion; especially more the elders. People just dismiss us thinking we are weak or there are people who are in worse situations and we are being dramatic.
But that's not fair.
Just because there are others who had suffered more, does not mean our pain is not valid.
Anyways, I ended up having 3 more consultations with my doctor. She just knew the right words to say. She learned and understood how my brain works and speak in a "language" I understand.
Logic and harsh truth. No hippie positive crap.
The reason it ended at 3 consultations was because it was getting too steep financially but mostly because our last consultation was a heavy one. I spent a good amount of time needing to process what she said and trying to apply it to myself. I knew it would take time and I didn't want to keep coming back with nothing much to say.
Oh, and those decades of being gassy, nausea and dizzy spells? It was all anxiety based. Apparently, it was so bad, it affected my health. It totally made sense why I miraculously stop having those symptoms after I quit my job those many years ago.
Anyways, after my consultations, my hives and/or anxiety attacks which I always get 3-4 times a week slowly subsided. I do get them but at least it's once every few months when I get stressed.
[This was drafted many months ago and as I type now, I am happy to say I don't get my hives anymore. I can't say the same with the anxieties though but being aware of it helps with coping it]
So.... yeah. That was my story. Perhaps some of you can relate while others think I am being overly dramatic. Say whatever you want because again, that does not mean my feelings are invalid. I strongly suggest to seek professional help even a little if other forms of healthy coping does not help.
I am okay now; in a general sense of it.
Sometimes, I am not and that's okay too.
If caring too much is a problem, I rather be that way than being heartless.
