PPD – Postpartum Depression

How do you forgive yourself? (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) Abortion/Life after Abortion, Belly, First Pregnancy, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Submissions, Teen Mom 26 Comments

2 pregnancies 1 birth
Age 6 boy
4 years postpartum
I am 24 years old

I was 17 when I found out I was pregnant with my first child. More excited then ever, I told the father right away but knew deep down my parents would not be happy so I hid it from them. It wasn’t until one evening that my brother and I had gotten into a confrontation that I was forced to tell my parents. My mother took the news well but my father not so well, he disowned me at the age of 17. I graduated high-school and continued my education, had my son in October :) and he was the highlight of my life. soon after a few year later becoming pregnant again but at that point the father left me. I didn’t think I could do things on my own. Taking care of one child, managing school, and work was hard enough. Having another one I thought would only make it harder. Being a young single mother with no help except what I expected at the age of 20. So I had an terminated the pregnancy. And to this day I regret it. Before I got pregnant with either child I was about 100 lbs. With my son I gained 18 lbs and lost it all right away, with my second by the time I had the abortion I had already gained 15 lbs, and after I fell into post postpartum depression. I now weigh 135 lbs. I dont know if I will ever forgive myself for what I did, I know I was not financially stable but its hard.

10 Years Isn’t Always Enough (Christine-Y)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Second Pregnancy, Sexual Abuse/Violence, Submissions, Suicide or suicidal thoughts 13 Comments

age – 24
2 pregnancies, 2 births
4 1/2 years, and 2 years.

Well, I guess it starts with middle school. My ex-stepfather was an older man who was very manipulative. He mental abused my mom, and treated my brother & I worse. My mom would work 2 jobs, & he would gamble her money at the race track. She even caught him there cheating on her once but she took him back. I promised myself that I would never let any guy treat me like that. He started lying to my mom, telling her how we lazy we had been, while he worked scrubbing the house on his hands and knees. The first time I stood up for myself, he didn’t say anything. My mom left for work the next morning a little after 5 am, he pulled me out of bed by my hair, and told me if I ever tried to discredit him again, I wouldn’t have a mom to “tattle” to anymore.

A few months later I started high school, (my brother & mom would get home 2-3 hours after me) he started molesting me. He would corner me in the kitchen, & one day he tried to take my shirt off, so I locked myself in the bathroom. I told my friend about it, & she said if I didn’t tell an adult, she would. I told my school counselor. The policeman that showed up at home just “happened” to be my step-dad’s nephew. He told my mom I was looking for attention, that I was lying, and that once I was over the death of my step-dad’s dad, I would stop lying and behave better. I kept my mouth shut for 2 years after that – he should me the gun he would put to her head if I said anything again. My counselor didn’t follow up even one time.

I stopped caring about my grades & began to plan my suicide. The night I had hand-picked, I couldn’t find the bullets. 1 week later, my little brother did, and for a few months, he didn’t try to touch me. When my Mom started to wake back up, he started to say I needed new clothes, everything was too baggy. I was a size 5-7, 112 pounds, 5 feet 8 inches but wore a black hoodie year-round (in California) & size 9 jeans to hide myself. He picked up where he left off, & one day told me he wanted to hear me scream, because no one would believe a filthy little liar like me. I was talking to a grief counselor at school, when I mentioned the abuse was still happening. By that evening, my mom had him escorted out of her house, & was in contact with a divorce lawyer. I got to move back home in time to graduate, & started going steady with the man I am married to today.

I can’t imagine life without him here. I still have panic attacks, and I wake up crying, screaming, or just plain scared. There are days where I can’t be touched, and a cupboard door slamming still gives me flashbacks.
We got married a year after high school ( I was 18), 3,000 miles away from my family, and had our first son shortly after I turned 19. I started out at 125 (the most I had EVER weighed) and ended up at 180 by the time he was born, stretchmarks from my breasts to my calves). I was miserable, my hip ( I had a bone graft @ 12) was hurting constantly, & my back (which I hurt while hand-digging a pool, not to mention hand-mixing the cement at 13) never stopped. I hated myself after JJ was born because I couldn’t get him to latch, & had to stop before he was 5 weeks old. I went from a 32B to a 38 DD trying to nurse him. I was so depressed over it, I stopped letting my husband look at me because I felt like a horrible, hideous failure. After 1 1/2 years, I still couldn’t loose the weight ( I was 160 pounds), but we wanted 1 more. With Daniel, I was sick from day one. I lost 32 pounds the first 6 months, & was medicated to help with the nausea. My boss told me it was my fault I got knocked up, so deal with it. My sciatic nerve kept me in constant pain from the end of my 2nd trimester on. I ended up at 162 pounds. When Daniel was born, I tried again to nurse, & even got compliments from WIC on how well I handled the techniques, but he wouldn’t latch either (inverted nipples). I cried for weeks afterword, because he wouldn’t nurse, but I couldn’t pump like I needed either. I was working 60+hours a week (6 days) with 25+ hours of commuting. I would cringe when he would put his arm around me at night, because he would touch my fat tummy. Daniel is 2 years old now, and I am (slightly) more comfortable. I still weigh 156, and I know what it is going to take for a healthy 3rd pregnancy (we are trying & hoping for a girl), and I know there will be pain ahead, but I know that my babies love me, I love them, & as often as my Husband sings “One Hot Mama” to me, he must mean it.

It’s been a long 10 years since my troubles started, but the next 10 will be better. I have a man that calls me beautiful everyday, and two boys that love their mommy. The only way it gets better than this is a house with 2 toilets…;)

Picture 1, 3 – me, 12/09/2010
Picture 2 – my Handsome Boys

Who am I? (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) No Photos (Story Only), PPD - Postpartum Depression, Second Pregnancy, Submissions 5 Comments

Age 26
2 pregnancy’s, 2 boys

I’ve been on this site alot over the last year or so and have never done an entry. I love this site it has helped me out through some bad days, today is one of those days, and I finally decided to send this in.
I met my husband when I was 17 we got engaged 9 months later…. just after my graduation, we moved in together in a new city thinking I was going to go to college, nope…….I have always suffered from self – esteem issues since a little girl and a little bit of deppression and when we moved it came out stronger. I didn’t know what I wanted to do anymore, my friends were doing there own things and I was stuck. We got married a year later like planned and got pregnant when I was 20 I had our first baby boy at 21, pre-babe I was 5.9 and 130 pounds (looking at pictures of me back then I wish I wasn’t so hard on myself) after babe 193 lbs. and stretch marks from armpits to calves along with cellulite. I had spotting at the beginning of pregnancy due to blood type factors and it scared me out of doing my pilates which I loved to do. I got postpardum depression immediately with my first and from lack of bonding with my baby my therapist figures thats why we don’t get along so great :( A few months after our first I stood in front of my husband naked and asked him to tell me the truth (not knowing the truth is not what I was expecting) and asked if he thought I was as attractive as I used to be…….He said “no”. Almost 5 years later I am still having major troubles with it, I can’t get naked in front of him, I can’t wear a bathing suit (beaches and sunbathing being what I used to love) and I cry almost every time I look in the mirror. My husband tries saying that he doesnt know why he said no but that I look as good as I used too. Too late its always up there now. It took along time to want another baby after that. 3 yrs and 5 months later we had our second son this time the post pardum depression waited a couple months then came on strong, 16 months later I still am having a rough time. If my husband didnt find me as attractive after the first what about now at 217lbs. between the depression, anti-depressants and pregnancy the weight just keeps going up. I have no close friends and after my second baby I started getting really bad anxiety and panic attacks and sometimes couldnt leave the house. Its made it hard to meet people and continue a normal life, I feel like I dont know who I am anymore, no friends, family who I feel, feel obligated to help out, a husband I feel I cant trust anymore and fight with constantly and rarely have sex or feel wanted ( I know its half my fault) , I feel like a horrible, lazy mom. Some days I wonder if I was really meant to be a mom. I love my husband and Kids so much, but it just feels like way to much most of the time right now. I feel lost and I dont know where to turn. Thanks again for this site, it does help…..keep the posts coming.

A Few Years On, Another Long Post (Jo)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Breasts, Mom over 30, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Second Pregnancy, Submissions, Update 29 Comments

~Age: 40
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2 pregnancies and 2 births
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: Age 4 and 2
(almost 2 years post-partum)

It has taken me a while to come up with the courage to post this, but it marks the beginning of the new me as I can no longer carry on being the old me.

I have posted before …

Unfortunately the photos no longer appear and I no longer have them after my computer was stolen. Needless to say, I looked better then than I do after 2 children. The scars you see on my body explained in
my previous post. I don’t want to explain them again.

Following the birth of my first child I suffered with severe post-natal depression. It didn’t happen straight away but when my daughter was around 8 months old. After a long time caring for my daughter, with my husband overseas, my family living half way round the world, trying to hold down a job when my daughter kept getting sick at childcare mentally I broke down.

My husband returned from overseas to a mental wreck. I was slowly recovering when I accidentally fell pregnant with no. 2. This was the first time we had unprotected sex in our twenty year relationship. My
husband, on the few occasions we chose not to use a condom, would normally withdraw. This time, without consultation he failed to withdraw. I was 38 years old and I wasn’t ready for a child but spiritually I couldn’t face terminating the pregnancy.

So pregnant and still suffering from PPD I carried on… my relationship with my husband has slowly disintegrated as I loathed the person I had become. I didn’t like my depressed personality, the flabby mothers body that failed to birth my first child as it should, failed to feed her. I suffer from horrendous PMT which only serves to make matters worse. I chose an elective c-section for my second. It wasn’t what I wanted but I knew I couldn’t take my body failing to do what it should again and it also meant I could schedule help on a planned birth day.

I’ve found coping with another child that I knew I wasn’t ready for very, very hard.

I look at my body and I don’t know who’s it is. I don’t recognise it.

I don’t know who I am either but for sure for someone who is married with 2 children I know I am intensely lonely.

So today – I say goodbye to this body and I decide to work to loose the excess flab and maybe I can find the old me … and get back my husband .. my life.

Struggling to Accept My Body’s Changes (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Breasts, Butt, Cosmetic and/or Reconstructive Surgery, First Pregnancy, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Submissions, Tattoo 16 Comments

My Age: 29
1 Pregnancy, 1 Birth
7 Months Postpartum

I was 27 years old when I found out I was pregnant with my first child. I was 28 when I delivered him. My husband was 28 as well. I had separated from the military, married my husband, and gotten pregnant all within 8 months so to say my life was changing is an understatement! My husband was (and still is) on active duty in the military. We found out shortly after our first ultrasound at 9 weeks that he would be deploying overseas. He left at 15 weeks and was gone up until 3 weeks before our son arrived. It was very tough to be pregnant with no family around and only 1 or 2 friends for support. I also lost my grandfather during this time. I believe that everything going on during the pregnancy, as well as the circumstances directly afterward, set me up for postpartum depression.

My water broke 4 days before my due date around 10 pm. We went to the hospital first thing the next morning because my contractions weren’t picking up on their own. I wanted a natural childbirth and I was devastated when I ended up on pitocin. My husband didn’t understand how important natural childbirth was for me and he didn’t support me in trying to get that in a hospital setting. I was on pitocin for 9 hours until I asked for the epidural. It was 8 more hours before our son was born. The staff kept pushing a c-section because it had been so long since my water had broken, but I refused and I am so glad I did at least get the vaginal birth I had hoped for.

I had gotten breast implants in 2006, they were put in via an incision around the nipple and placed under the muscle. I was curvy on the bottom and always felt out of proportion. I felt so good about my breasts and my body after the surgery. The plastic surgeon had assured me I’d be able to breastfeed one day and my OB told me the same. I was again devastated when that wasn’t the case. My right breast functioned but my left did not. I barely produced any colostrum and later could only get a small bit of breastmilk from the left, about a quarter ounce at the most. My son would scream and scream when I put him on the left breast from frustration at sucking and not getting enough out. I ended up supplementing because of this, I didn’t feel confident that he could get adequate milk from the right side only.

The first 3 months postpartum I struggled hard with body acceptance issues and postpartum depression. I weighed 145 when I left the military and started gaining weight from having a sedentary job and not exercising. I was 160 when I got pregnant and weighed 205 at delivery. The first 2 weeks postpartum I dropped 15 pounds. I had expected to lose more right away and felt there was something wrong with me when it didn’t happen. I was stuck there at 190 until the end of February (that’s when I started trying much harder to drop pounds) and I felt disgusting because of it. I wore sizes that made me ashamed because I couldn’t shop in the sections or stores that I used to. My husband didn’t look at me the same way either and didn’t even try to help me feel better (we’re now going through couples counseling for many issues we’re having). I felt so guilty that I couldn’t exclusively breastfeed. We had moved at 6 weeks postpartum to a new duty station where I knew no one so I felt even more isolated and lonely. I began to feel angry all the time, I cried frequently, I told family and friends I hated my life. I lashed out at my husband and even started to resent my baby and feel angry at him because in my head it seemed like he caused so much of it all. I realized things weren’t right and went to my doctor. I started taking medication for postpartum depression, stopped breastfeeding completely, and saw a counselor. I felt much better almost immediately, I’m off medication today but I wish I had started it sooner.

I’m 7 months postpartum now and weigh 170. My goal is to reach 145 again, that was my weight in the pre-pregnancy pictures. I don’t know if it will ever happen or not, right now I’d be satisfied with losing another 10 or 15. I still have a stigma attached to the sizes I have to buy. I’m nowhere near fitting into any of my old stuff and I hate buying new clothes until I lose more weight. I realize my body has changed – my butt, hips, and thighs are wider, I have back fat that made me go up in bra size, the pooch on my tummy shows through my shirts – but I don’t know yet how to come to grips with that. I have tons of clothes in storage that I’ll probably never wear again, that’s the worst part because I had a great wardrobe. Even if I do lose all the weight I’d like to, he shape of my body has changed so much that the old clothes won’t fit right anyway. Maybe one day I’ll be okay with this, I’m continuing to work on self-acceptance. For now I’m happy that I get to be mommy to a beautiful, smart and fun little boy!

17 Weeks Later (Soph)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Child Loss, First Pregnancy, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Submissions 7 Comments

My name is Soph and 17 weeks ago, just before I turned 24, I delivered my first child – a lovely little boy.
I lost my first baby and had to wait several years to try to concieve my son. Such a wanted, beautiful pregnancy.

I weighed just over 90kg when I got pregnant, stayed at that weight until the third trimester and then suddenly put on 12kg. I had terrible morning sickness, that was then replaced by terrible anaemia.

I loved my bump. I felt powerful. I felt…beautiful. I felt like a woman.

My baby was born all of a sudden, there was no time to assimilate what was happening. He weighed over 4kg and I had a large placenta (that was commented on by the midwives!) and I seemed to have a huge amount of water.

Immediately post-birth, I felt fantastically slim, slimmer than I had been for years. And I haven’t really put any weight back on since then.
Then the baby blues kicked in and unfortunately haven’t really gone.

I am now thinner than I have been since I was 18.
And yet when I look in the mirror, this is what I see.
Someone told me to regard them as battlescars.
But I feel like a tiger. Not pretty. Not pretty at all. Embarassed. Saggy. Enormous. Ugly, Unsexy. Unworthy.
I still have to buy size 18 (UK) shirts because of my boobs…and don’t even get me started on my boobs. That is for another day.

080409-soph-1

Rebuilding the Body (Annie)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Breasts, First Pregnancy, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Submissions, Suicide or suicidal thoughts 16 Comments

Age-21
Children-1 (a 2 year old)
C Section birth

I want to thank you for making this site. It is so wonderful to know I am not alone, because here in person I really am. And I thought I was. And I am so excited to read everything on here and see that I am not.

Pregnancy was supposed to be the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me. But I felt like a bad person because I hated every minute of it. I had morning sickness from the day I found out (8 weeks along) to the week after I had my son. I was a small girl that liked showing off my body. I was over weight when I entered puberty (almost 200 pounds at 12 years old) and I worked so hard to loose the weight. I finally got down to 110 pounds when I was 17 and I loved my size but I still felt like I had so much to work on.

I moved out of state to the other side of the country to be with my sons father and he did his best to make my pregnancy comfortable. It was hard making friends. All the girls that were my age with kids were not very good parents at all. They all had great bodies with little to no stretch marks and left their kids with their mom all week long to go hang out, party. I thought I would bounce back as fast as them when I had a kid. I was so wrong.

I gained 100 pounds with my son. I had a high risk pregnancy because I hadn’t gained any weight from all the throwing up. I was put on a diet that blew me up. I got so big, I have stretch marks all down my legs, the back of my calves, my tummy, and my sides.

So there I was, 19 years old, a size 14, 210 pounds and depressed. My husband (35 years old) told me that he loved me inside but my outside was a turn off and he couldn’t make love to me. He slept with all my “friends” and would constantly turn me down, telling me they got in shape fast and I should too.

I was so depressed. He left me saying that I was a downer and was turning his life sour. I am still torn up so badly over it. He made me feel like my body was worthless, like I was less of a person because of how I look. I hated myself so badly. I was so hard on myself. I moved back home, and my friends that had kids came by to visit. All of them back to their old size only 2 months later, and without a stretch mark on their bodies. I got so depressed I . It was a big turninhad tried to kill myself. I felt like I didn’t deserve to live, no one would ever want me because my body.

It was a big turning point in my life, where I decided I needed a real change.

I have worked hard on my body since then. I have a great stretch mark remedy that I practice often (derma roller and vitamin e cream and body scrub, it works pretty well!). I am now at 140 pounds, a size 7 (or 9 sometimes but I seem to have a permentent muffin top in anything I wear) and I am doing my best to stay happy and positive. I still break out in bouts of depression over my body, but I have an amazing new boyfriend who has been my best friend for years, and I have a great 2 year old that means the world to me. I hope one day I get into a bikini again. I think I will. But it is going to take a lot of love from myself and hard work to do it…

Now I am 21 years old. My son just turned 2, and I am thinking I might have another one, but not for another 5 or so years.

PPD vs “Baby Blues” (Crystal)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, First Pregnancy, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Submissions, Tattoo 12 Comments

age:22
1st pregnancy
1 child
my daughter’s name is Lily and she is 3 months
i am exactly 3 mo and 3 days post partum

I found this website through just googling other women’s postpartum stories. I really love this website because it makes me feel a little “normal”. Sometimes I feel the issues I’ve been going through are only happening to me. Here is my story…I’m really reaching out for anyone’s advice or if anyone has been through this same thing.

My beautiful daughter Lily was born March 12, 2009. The first 2 weeks after she was born I felt amazing. I would just melt like butter holding her in my arms just looking at her. I was proud to be a mom and I still am to this day. It felt like I had also found a new love for my husband. I’ve always considered him the love of my life and after Lily was born it felt deeper. Like our connection was more intimate. My sex drive was high and I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. I loved my new body without the big pregnant belly. I also enjoyed my workouts at the gym every other day. I was so dedicated to the gym that I would just take my daughter along with me and leave her in the carseat right in front of my treadmill. I didn’t want to miss a workout.

I’m not too sure when it began to happen it seemed like my feelings started to turn for the worse little by little. It sort of came out of nowhere. All of the sudden I started to become a little lazier and making excuses not to go to the gym anymore. I stay at home with Lily and when my husband was at work I would find myself picking fights with him over text messages. The fights would get so extreme I would threaten to leave. When he would get home I honestly wouldn’t really remember just what exactly I was so mad about. I would get so mad to the point where I really just wanted to hit something. This is when I noticed that things were a little off with me. I’ve never been in a physical fight ever. This sort of anger is out of my character. Then my sex drive seemed to almost disappear over night. At first I just thought it would go away all of these strange feelings that I was having. I tried to just say that I wasn’t in the mood to my husband hoping he wouldn’t notice that it had been several days since the last time we made love. Of course that didn’t work and he began to think he was the problem why I wasn’t in the mood. I finally sat down with him and explained all the things I was feeling. I told him how lazy I was feeling, how angry I had been for no reason, how I was not interested in sex at all, and also how much I now hated my body.

I’ve been reading a lot online and talking to friends about this. Some signs pointed toward the “baby blues” diagnosis and some was the postpartum depression. I’m worried because my mother, father, and both sisters are all on anti-depressants. I’m wondering if maybe that made me more likely to have stronger emotions with this postpartum time of my life. I made an appointment for my Dr. to discuss this because my husband and I agree we can’t just let this go on and continue to argue over these things. Has anyone else went through any of this? Is there any kind of advice that helped anyone with the same issues? I just want to know I’m not the only one.

the pictures are of my belly today at 3 mo and 3 days post partum and our daughter Lily at 3 months old

Rocking the Boat (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) Before Pregnancy, Belly, Breech Baby, Cesarean, Complications During or After Birth, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Pregnant, Submissions 13 Comments

Rocking the boat (Anonymous)

My son is now 20 months old (I’m 27) and is the most AWESOME gift life has ever given me, aside from my husband, yet I am still having a hard time overcoming a tough bout of post-partum depression. Before the birth of my son, I was a super-fit triathlete, vivacious and die-hard optimist, fresh out of college and had just started my own small business. I had a clear plan for myself and my future and was having a ball being the single social butterfly. Suddenly everything changed. My future husband and I conceived our son after a mere 4 months of dating, but decided we were in it for the long haul and decided to marry when I was 7 months pregnant. Talk about a scary start!

My pregnancy was fairly normal, just NOTHING what I had expected! I always romanticized the idea of pregnancy, always assuming I would be at a place in my life where a baby would be the icing on the cake. This was hardly what I had planned! I decided that I wanted as natural a delivery as possible- we’re talking NO drugs, IVs, post-birth eye drops- the whole shabang! Unfortunately, my plans were dashed the day I went in for my 36 week checkup and found that my son was breech. Again, my plans were turned upside down. The natural delivery plan was shot to hell, but I tried to keep my chin up and go with the flow. I opted out of an external cephalic version to avoid the risk of early delivery and to see if my son would turn on his own. I tried everything I heard of to encourage him to turn in an attempt to salvage my birth plan. I tried shining a flashlight down my stomach to encourage him to follow the light, laying inverted on an ironing board,
diving into a pool, even moxibustion and accupuncture! My efforts were all in vain. I even held out on a scheduled c-section until a week past my due date just to see if during the last few days he might still turn. That was no easy task, considering I was still working up until the day before I gave birth, standing for 8 hours a day and having gained 60+ lbs!

Five days past my due date, my water broke early in the morning and I scampered into the bathroom as fluid rushed down my legs. I noticed that there was a funny color to the fluid and immediately thought of what it must be- meconium. Not a good sign. Even so, I was elated that I was able to experience a small bit of a normal labor and will always cherish those last few moments that I was alone with my son still inside me. Knowing that meconium could be inhaled by the baby and cause complications, we rushed to the hospital to begin the cesarean delivery I had so dreaded. I relished the feeling of contractions and welcomed them, and felt calm spread over me as I accepted the situation ahead.

The c-section was actually pretty easy and I surprised myself that I was so calm. I tried to ignore my feelings that the doctors were rushing too much, that they weren’t paying attention to me, that I was just another surgery that morning. The whole thing progressed like a well-oiled machine. There was no soft lighting, no spiritual music playing, no SOUL to the whole event. I just let the doctors do their thing as I laid down and tried to breathe normally as the epidural affected my diaphragm and lungs. I didn’t even recognize my husband when he sat down next to me and held my hand. I was shocked when I asked the doctors if they had started yet and they said,” Oh yeah! We’ve got a hold of his legs! Now there’s a big baby!” (At 9.5lbs, I should say so!) I saw my beautiful son and his bright pink face screeching for all the world to hear for a split second before he was whisked away. I don’t recall seeing him again for what seemed like hours. The drugs they gave me caused me to become violently ill and I vomited almost non-stop for several hours after the birth. I was so drugged up that I have almost no clear memory of the next few hours. Bonding with my son was a distant urge. I do recall being wheeled down to the NICU to see my son, and having to stop several times along the way to vomit. One stop was so violent that I felt a distinct POP in the stitches holding my stomach together. This didn’t seem to bother any of the doctors or nurses, despite the fact that the skin around the alleged POP was now bulging.

My son was being held in the NICU for reasons that remain unclear to me. They said that there was a concern over his circulation post-birth and they wanted to check out his heart (this really means that they wanted to use their fancy machines and keep any possible lawsuits at bay). My son was fine and they released him soon after, but I have no recollection of his homecoming. I do recall a nurse prodding me several times to get me to nurse him and finally threatening to give him formula if I didn’t liven up. I fought through the drugs and tried to nurse. Let me just say that overcoming two inverted nipples while on morphine was not the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Breastfeeding proved to be THE most challenging feat of my life! I summoned up every nursing consultant I could scrounge up before I left the hospital, and was given every tool and doo-dad to encourage breast feeding. My mother-in-law must have thought I was a total moron when it was nursing time and I whipped out my avalanche of tools! Despite about 4 bouts of mastitis, cracked and bleeding nipples, latching problems and SEVERE engorgement (A cup to a D+!), I managed to breastfeed for an entire year! If my hubby hadn’t prodded me along and given a mountain of support, I might have quit after two weeks. It was a NIGHTMARE. I didn’t know a single other mother who had such a hard time of it. Nobody could compare stories with me or even come close!

Overcoming the c-section was a cakewalk compared to the struggles I had breastfeeding. It was so painful I actually used my leftover pain meds for the c-section recovery to make it through a nursing session. Since my brand-new hubby was still in law school and studied all day and all night, I was pretty much on my own with the baby. I suffered such exhaustion that I would lay on the couch weeping and say that I just wanted to die. I was also concerned over the strange bulge on one side of my birth scar, as well as the deflated balloon I had for a belly and the 30+ lbs I still had to lose.

Even a year and a half later and only 5lbs away from my pre-baby weight (pretty darn good, right?) I still have a few body issues. What mom doesn’t? Mostly I am struggling with my sense of self, the identity I am remodelling and the new life I have. I try not to seem ungrateful for all the blessings I have in life, but at the same time I struggle to find the “old” me, if she even exists anymore. With such a tumultuous start to my marriage, an unplanned pregnancy, unwanted cesarean, troubles breastfeeding and now a diagnosis of a prolapsed uterus and possible hernia, it’s a wonder I can carry on a normal conversation! Things are actually a lot better than they sound here, but I still have tough days. Completing my first triathlon at 5 mos post-partum was a real boost for me and something I remain proud of. It’s good to know that I have family and a great husband I can count on, as well as the awesome advice and inspiration from strong women like you! Shape of a Mother ROCKS!!!

The Whirlwind (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) First Pregnancy, Postpartum, PPD - Postpartum Depression, Pregnant, Submissions, Suicide or suicidal thoughts, Vulva/Vaginal Damage 24 Comments

2 weeks after I got married, I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I was 20 years old. My husband was to be deployed for a 15 month tour with the US army in 6 months, at that time. He left for Iraq when I was just under 6 months pregnant. He thankfully got to come home for the birth. He surprised me when I was at work, on my last day before I was to go on maternity leave. I went into labor a week later. September 10th, 2008 I was in labor for 12 hours. I pushed for 2 hours and the doctor decided that the baby needed some help coming out. He used forceps to get the baby out. I ended up with fourth degree tears. Labor was extremely traumatic for me, afterwards I felt like I had been raped (I know that sounds bad, but true). I was so thankful to have my husband by my side at the time, nothing else mattered after I got over the initial shock. But he had to go back to the war in Iraq, our baby was only 12 days old.
9 weeks postpartum, I was still in pain from the birth. I got checked out and the doctor said I had a hole in my vagina! I freaked out. He “fixed” the hole the best he could and told me to give it 6 weeks to heal. 6 weeks later, any time I was on my feet for more then a half hour, it felt like I needed to push out a bowling ball from my vagina (I know! So not fun).I went to see the doctor again. The doctor gave me a look like, “your looked for drugs, aren’t you”. I did not want drugs, I just did not want my vagina to be “broken” anymore. He gave me three options, to have him re-cut me open and stich me back up (no thank you), give me a nerve-killer shot in my vagina to numb me forever (HECK no!), or to deal with. I choice to deal with it.
16 weeks postpartum, I was still in pain. I just figured this was the way it was going to be the rest of my life. I was just glad I didn’t have to deal with my husband wanting sex, since he was still in Iraq. I thought I would go into liver failure with all the Tylenol I was taking just to survive each day. I was not happy. I was in pain everyday, I was dealing with a colicky baby by myself, and I was not getting much sleep at all worrying about my husband and everything else on my plate.
18 weeks postpartum, I decided to stop breast feeding. I wasn’t making enough milk to feed the baby because I wasn’t eating enough. I was miserable. I missed my husband, and life sucked at this point.
One night I was home, putting the baby to sleep like normal. I heard voices in my head as I rocked him that told me to just knock my sons head on the wall and just get it over with. I was hearing voices that told me to kill my son. I panicked. I put him to sleep and I just cried. How could I think like that? I looked at the bottle of pills that was so familiar to me, Tylenol. I thought, I need to end my life if I was thinking about taking my childs life. I took a few pills and I knew I needed help. I called my mom and told her I needed to go to the hospital immediately. I was admitted to the psych ward of a hospital for a 5 day stay for severe postpartum depression. My husband came home from Iraq for emergency leave. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what happened, so I told them I fell and hit my head. My husband was home for 10 days to help me back on my feet. I got support for my immediate family and they all helped me a lot.
Today, my husbands 15 month tour in Iraq ends in 3 months. I have a beautiful almost 9 month old son. I am fully recovered and not on any meds anymore. I just wanted to share my story to tell everyone that postpartum depression is real and it can be really scary. Just ask for help when you need it, with the baby or just for yourself, if you don’t you will make yourself crazy like I did. Nobody can do it alone, and nobody should.

1st photo is me 8 months pregnant
2nd photo is my husband and I getting our son baptisted when he was 11 days old the day before my husband left to go back to Iraq
3rd photo is my son now (8 1/2 months)