Sarah King: My journey with postpartum depression

There is a laundry list of things they don’t tell you about getting pregnant. The weakened state of your pelvic floor after you deliver (aaah-choo!). The fact that you’ll lose friends because you have to stay home all of the time. And, despite the fact that you just added a new person to your household, you can feel very, very lonely.

For me, the one thing I wish I had known was how my anxiety levels were going to skyrocket after I had my son - and with that the depression that comes with not being able to manage my life in the same way I used to. I was always feeling that I was running in fast forward, yet failing to get anything done at the same time.

I now know that I had postpartum depression.

What’s so sneaky about postpartum depression is that it begins so subtly. I had the first few weepy weeks that all moms have, but when breastfeeding became a no-go, those weeks slowly morphed into months.

Before I had my son, I told myself that I was going to be OK if I was unable to breastfeed. In the weeks that followed my breastfeeding “failure,” I found myself so resentful and jealous of the women who could breastfeed. They were going to lose their baby weight so easily, they got to have special physical conversation with their child, they were able to bond better with their babies. I felt totally gypped!

It was at this point when my anxiety kicked into high gear. I would find myself in a fit of real rage over a sink of dishes. I was constantly yelling at my husband. I was crying at the drop of a hat at work. I would cry for hours on end about the fact that my body was so much bigger and softer than before, and because I couldn’t breastfeed, I wasn’t losing any weight.

I was so ashamed of myself, embarrassed of my appearance, and terrified that I would never find happiness again. I felt like I had literally lost control of my emotions. It had all come on so slowly that I didn’t realize that I needed help. After one three-hour crying fit, my husband Eddie finally had had enough. He pulled me aside and gently insisted that I needed to get a handle on myself. He couldn’t stand by and watch me continue to fall apart.

So I found a therapist.

In therapy, I learned that I was deep in a postpartum depression, which surprised me because my son was 17 months old! I didn’t realize you could have it for so long.

We’ve worked on changing the way I think about things, replacing negative thoughts with positive ones (even if you don’t believe them sometimes). She also introduced me to the lifesaving wonders of anti-anxiety pills.

I had bought into the stigma about taking medicine for anxiety and depression. I was afraid I’d always be on them, or that I’d be numb. But I have been so pleasantly surprised. Without anxiety, I am a better parent and partner, and, most importantly, I have given myself the space to love and forgive myself a little easier.

The bottom line is this: You are not alone. You are not doing the mothering thing all wrong. We are all doing the best we can, and we deserve to give ourselves a break!

Take care of yourselves, mamas!