I gave birth to the most beautiful human being I have ever seen. Everything was amazing. And then it wasn’t. I was suddenly drowning in worry. I couldn’t stop myself from checking on the baby every couple of minutes. Every time she cries I can feel my heart beating faster and faster. My breathing gets heavier. I know that she probably just needs a change or a feeding. But I immediately convince myself that the least possible and worse case scenario has taken place.
I cannot stop the worry. There is no off switch to my worry.
This is my postpartum anxiety.
On the outside, I make it seem like I am the calm, collective, “I got it all together” parent. But on the inside, even though I know it’s unlikely, I am convinced that those around me are judging everything I am doing. And not just the strangers at the store, my friends and family, too. I start second-guessing myself all the time. I can’t just brush this feeling off. I began to question every parenting move I’ve made in my head at the end of each day. It consumes me. I cannot sleep because of it. I cannot function because of it. So, I just block everyone out. Staying inside whenever I can. Neglecting the relationships with those I care about and love the most. Because I am just too tired.
This is my postpartum anxiety.
Daily tasks that I used to do without even thinking became almost impossible. I got anxious when the phone rang. So, I didn’t pick up. I got anxious when I got a text. So, I didn’t read and respond. I got anxious when someone knocked on the door. So, I didn’t answer. I got anxious when I drove. So, I didn’t go anywhere. I didn’t want to explain that I was feeling anxious because I don’t even know why I am feeling like this.
Will people understand? How could they? I don’t even understand. So, I became the queen of excuses.
This is my postpartum anxiety.
To be honest, I had never heard about PPA (postpartum anxiety) until after the birth of Eleanor. I was well versed in PPD (postpartum depression) because mental illnesses run in my family. I knew all the warning signs of PPD. I made sure that my husband knew all the signs of PPD in case I didn’t catch it. But I knew nothing of PPA.
I knew what I was experiencing was not PPD. But I also knew what I was experiencing was not at all what I experienced with my last babies. I blamed it so long on adjusting to 4 little ones, and all the sleeplessness that comes with a new baby. I really tried to ignore it. But the more I ignored my feelings, the worse my PPA became. And the worse my PPA became, the more emotionally exhausted I became. And the more emotionally exhausted I became, the more closed off I became.
I was not being the mom, friend, wife, and Christian that I wanted to be.
That I knew I could be.
After months of trying to manage on my own, I finally reached out to my husband. He encouraged me to reach out to my doctor. She set me up with a support group and has made counselling available anytime I need it. I reached out online to local and nationwide groups. I surrounded myself with safe places where I could express my feelings. I prayed. I am learning how to cope with both the emotional and physical aspects of PPA. I’m not ignoring my PPA anymore. I am fighting. And I will continue to fight.
I may have PPA, but PPA doesn’t have me.
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