The Dreaded Appointment

Soon after Seth's overnight stay with my friend, Stacia, I went to my follow up doctor's appointment with my OB.  I'm sure that if anyone would have seen me, they would not have recognized me.  I was a mess!  I was blank--no emotion, no make up, wearing glasses, and with my hair a mess.  The nurse looked at me when I first came in and asked if I was okay.  I told her that I wasn't.  She showed me which room to enter and followed behind me and closed the door.  She asked me what was going on.  I told her exactly how things had been going.  I told her that I had been having thoughts about not wanting my son and that I had hoped that I would be better by now, but I wasn't.  The nurse looked at me and told me that everything was going to be fine and that this was a very common thing.  I told her that I felt so guilty because I loved my son, but I kept feeling like I didn't want him.  She asked if I had ever had any thoughts of hurting him.  I told her that I did not.  She asked several questions about whether my family lived in town and if anyone could help me with my son.  I told her that my family lived an hour away and that my mother-in-law had been having a lot of medical problems.  I told her that my husband was very helpful, but he was working third shift and that was the worst time for me--when he was gone.  I told her that I had barely slept for the past 4 weeks.  She told me that she wished that she lived in town because she would help me.  I really appreciated her for being so compassionate.  She told me that the doctor would be in the room in a few minutes and that I needed to tell him everything I had told her.  I said that I would.  She left the room and closed the door.

As I sat in that room by myself, I began to think.  I wasn't sure what was about to happen.  I figured that the doctor would suggest medication, and I didn't want to be on medication--I wanted to be healed instantly!  I thought that if I went on medication, I would be considered "weak".  I thought that I would have to be on the medication forever and I didn't want to have to take pills for the rest of my life.  Regardless of all of those thoughts, I knew that I needed to be honest because I truly needed help.  I sat there, with almost no feeling at all--just blah.  I could have been told that something terrible happened and I truly think that I would not have had a response or reaction at all.  I was so numb.  I stared at the small room and wished that things were different.  I wished that I could take everything back.  I wished that I wasn't a mother and that life could go back to "normal". 

The doctor came into the room and talked to me.  He asked a few questions and I was honest.  He completed the necessary medical procedures for my follow up visit and then he asked to see me in his office.  I agreed and absent-mindedly walked to a chair outside of his office and waited for him.  I sat and thought about what I would say.  How was I going to convince this man that I truly loved my son when I didn't feel like I did?  I really wondered if this appointment was really going to help.

The doctor came and I followed him into his office.  He closed the door and started asking me some of the same questions the nurse had asked me.  He asked if I had ever been depressed before.  I told him that I had struggled with depression from time to time, but I had never been treated for depression--it had never become a problem.  He asked about family history and then told me that he was going to prescribe an anti-depressant for me.  I sunk further in my chair and just stared at the floor.  He said that he would give me the lowest dose and that I should start to feel things getting better within a couple of weeks.  I told him that I would take the medication and see if it helped.  Inside I was getting angry.  Was I really going to have to take medication??  Really?  What was wrong with me?

I left that doctor's office with a prescription and battled with whether or not I was going to get it filled.  I eventually went to the pharmacy and got it filled, but I didn't take any of the medication for another week.  I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I didn't want something altering my mind.  I just wanted to be ME.  After talking with some people close to me, they persuaded me to take the medication.  I took it for three days and then stopped.  I had noticed that my panic attacks started to increase, so I convinced myself that it was due to the medication.  After some more persuading, I started to take the medication again.  I stuck with it this time.  The only difference I noticed was that I was losing even more weight (I had already lost all of my baby weight) and instead of feeling sad all of the time, I only felt sad some of the time and the rest of the time I felt numb.  I was not impressed with the medication, but after again talking to those close to me, I went back to the doctor and told him how things were going.  He then told me that I needed to see a psychiatrist.  WHAT??  Now I really felt crazy.  He thought that I was bad enough that I needed to see a psychiatrist?  My doctor even said that he would not prescribe me any type of contraceptive until I was seen by a psychiatrist.  He referred me to a local psychiatrist and they set up an appointment for me.  What a mess--that was all I could think.  So, this is what it is like being a mom?  This is what my life is like from now on.  I was to the point that I didn't think that I could take anything else.  I continued taking the anti-depressant and waited for my upcoming appointment.

What a disappointment!  The medication wasn't working.  My doctor would not allow me to go back on birth control until I saw a psychiatrist.  I was still feeling like I didn't want my baby.  I had no desire to eat or to do much of anything else besides go through the motions...and that's what I did.  I cared for my son and he lacked for nothing (except for a mom who was emotionally there).  This journey of motherhood was not what I expected.  I just wondered when I would ever be myself again...it looked like never.

Don't worry, things did get better, and are still getting better.  This step in going to the doctor was a big one!  I should have gone sooner, but I was too stubborn thinking that I could get better on my own.  If you are currently dealing with Postpartum Depression, make sure you contact your doctor.  Be honest about your feelings even if they are hard to speak.  The only way things will change is if you are honest and seek help whether that is from God, your Pastoral Staff, a friend, family, your doctor, or all of the above.  You need to talk about it!