My reflections on PPD

It's been a while since I've posted any updates. Although this is a rare occurrence, I'm gonna get serious about something. Anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis knows that I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression just after Melanie's 4 week check up. At that time, my in-laws had just left to go back to the states after visiting for a few weeks and Danny had just gone out to sea for a short deployment. The first few weeks of Melanie's life were pretty good for me. Although I'd had a c-section, my recovery was very fast. I was still in pain, but with help of my family I got a decent amount of sleep. Most days, I was even able to put on make-up. Something I didn't even do in the past.
When everyone left, I was very alone. More so then I'd ever have been in my life. I thought, having a baby, that at least I'd never be alone again. Someone would always be there. I thought I knew how to take care of a baby. Once I was alone, I was way over my head. I found myself crying a lot and feeling hopeless about the future. I couldn't sleep because anytime I was alone with my thoughts it felt like I would be stuck in a place where I felt helpless forever. I was overwhelmed, over-emotional, and hopeless. I truly believed that things would never get better. Before Melanie was born, people would offer their help, telling me that if I needed anything I should just ask. I am usually open about my feelings and honest about anything and everything, but asking for help was more than I could handle. Who wants to take on my problems? Nearly everyone around me had their own children, jobs, problems, lives. And here I was. I needed the help desperately, but I didn't have the strength or courage to ask.
Besides crying constantly, I was also lacking sleep, not eating much, and constantly angry. If Melanie didn't do what I wanted when I wanted it, I would scream. Sometimes even at her. It's very difficult for me to admit this. No one ever wants to say that they screamed at their helpless infant. I am very ashamed of this. Now, it is between me and God. I do what I can everyday to make up for the mistakes I've made in the past.
The only escape I ever had was leaving my house (which was a constant reminder that I felt like a complete failure) and going to Amy's. I'm sure at times I seemed desperate and overstayed my welcome, but it was the only thing that kept me sane. Amy understood my feelings more than I understood at the time. The thing that helped the most was when the pediatrician and my personal doctor recommended that I seek treatment. I wasn't sure if I wanted to jump right to medication to solve my problems, but when I had questions, I knew I could ask Amy. Sometimes, the questions were very personal, but she was honest with me. Eventually I decided to take the medication.
Although the initial change was nearly immediate (it takes about two weeks for the medication to reach full strength), I certainly wasn't 100%. I've been on the meds for 10 months now and I finally ALMOST feel where I want to be. Of course, I still have "days". Since the time I started, I've changed from 50mg/day to 100 mg/day. The first goal was just to be emotionally stable and be able to get out of bed in the morning. Now, I am able to notice the small things. Most days I lack the motivation and desire to do the things I need to do, like clean up the mess Melanie made at breakfast or even cook my own meals. I wasn't particularly motivated before I was a mother to do the things I didn't want to do, but it feels different now. I can tell when things aren't quite right.
Somedays, I just want to run away. I still get mad. I still cry. But not as often and I feel like I'm in control. The medication has helped me get over the initial hump, and then I have the strength to handle things on my own. I've learned Melanie and she has learned me. I don't have to get mad about things, I just go with the flow.
To sum things up, I want to make a statement to everyone. I know that because of time, money, distance, etc, many of you were not able to help me. I know you wanted to then and I know you still do now. The best advice I can give is just help people. If you know a new mother, whether it's her 1st or 10th child, she still needs help. Don't ask her if she needs help, just do it. She will never ask. Bring her a meal. Eat it with her. Let her talk about anything and everything. Clean her house. Watch her baby so she can sleep. Do anything that you know she can't muster the strength to do herself. Today in our society, mothers are expected to do everything alone, but if we help just one mother, then maybe it will continue to be paid forward.
Mothering duty calls me. Thanks for reading. I look forward to any comments.