The Days after Giving Birth

Well, my son was here! I was excited and trying to encourage myself to be happy. Those two days after giving birth were pretty much a blur. I knew deep down that things were not how they were supposed to be, but I figured I was just tired and stressed from everything I had been through. We had several visitors that I was so happy to see, but my reactions were not typical of my personality. This should have been a "red flag" for me, but I again figured it had to do with being tired and going through the strain of childbirth. There were times that people would come in and see my son and not too long after entering the room, I would hand him over. I never asked them to wash their hands or use sanitizer. I never asked if they had been sick. I never did anything that I would typically do if I was "myself". I never asked anyone to take pictures of our new little addition and our new little family. Thankfully, some of our visitors did take pictures of us, so we do have some, but I myself never asked for this to be done. I wanted pictures of our new baby, but it never occurred to me to get the family pictures.

As I stayed in the hospital, I realized I was having anxiety. I could not sleep. I was afraid that my son would stop breathing or the blanket would cover his face and he would be smothered. I had him in my room and would just stare at him as I longed to sleep. At one point, I did somewhat give up and allowed the nursery staff to take him so I could get some sleep. That two hours of sleep was helpful for the journey I had ahead of me...almost two months with little to no sleep. I was very irritated with the hospital. Every time my son had started to fall asleep, and as I would start to drift off, they would enter the room and wake us both up. I think at one point I was somewhat rude to the "picture lady". She came in to take the newborn pictures and I told her it wasn't a good time and that she would have to come back the next day. Evidently I did not say it very kindly because I never saw her again, nor did we get newborn pictures taken!

The hospital stay soon came to an end and we were released. I was ready to go home, but at the same time, I felt like I just didn't care. I was "happy" to have our baby and to be going home, but something just wasn't right. I got in the back seat with my son and stared at him the entire way home. I was concerned about him. I wanted to make sure he was comfortable and that his head was snug in the car seat, but there was something empty about my gaze upon him. It was almost as if I had never even had him. Of course I was still healing from the delivery, so I knew that I had in fact given birth to him, but as I stared at him, I could feel my anxiety rise and I wondered how I would ever be a good mom. I thought, "he is not quite three days old and when I look at him, I am not overjoyed nor am I excited." We never really put him in his "going home" outfit, nor did we change his clothes in the hospital. I had brought several outfits for him, but never changed him until the last day. Looking back, there were sooooo many signs that I should have caught onto, but how was I supposed to know? This was my first child and I figured this was all normal. Some moms will say that it is all normal, but as the weeks passed, I realized that things were not "normal".

Again, I have to say that I did and still do love my son. My feelings were not my own. You will later hopefully understand what I mean by this. It is very difficult to write these posts knowing that I love my son with all of my heart. The only reason I am writing is in hopes of reaching someone else who is suffering from PPD. To know that you are not alone and that things can and will get better. Writing my feelings about my son and about myself is not easy, but I feel it will help someone.