— silence. no one asks if i am okay. just how happy i must be. the joy before me, the pain behind me. the tear tracks on my face must be from happiness. right? they ask with emphasis on the 'right.' i don’t feel okay. i fly between gloriously happy and spiraling panic— it hurts to be a mother sometimes and i cry from the anxiety i laugh at the absurdity. i’m a mess they don’t want to see the pain. they don’t want to hear the doubts. they don’t want me to speak. they just want the happy baby. —BJ Roshone, from the lowercase series.
We only talk about such things when tragedy strikes. There is a profound lack in society and the healthcare system when it comes to talking and acting on post-partum depression. Sadly, the system is lacking on mental healthcare overall— but for mothers it seems to compound the issue.
We know the names Andrea Yates and now Lindsey Clancy. We know they are mothers who suffered from postpartum psychosis.
We as a society don’t understand the difference between PPD and postpartum psychosis. The difference between anxious thoughts and intrusive thoughts. The difference between a hormonal imbalance that will self-correct and a mental problem that will continue to compound until tragedy strikes.
Society tends to lump it all together and places the shame on the mother.
“Well, I didn’t have that problem…”
“I never had thoughts like that!”
Or they tend to minimize the problem.
“You need to pray for strength— this will pass.”
“Your hormones are just all over the place— give it a month and you’ll be fine!”
Sometimes even the doctors will use the above prior to the six-month appointment— even if you say something more than hormones is bothering you. Besides they only do one mental health check (at six months) and then kind of leave you in the wind. Some doctors or practices do better than others, but it’s hit or miss. Plus, when you factor in insurance (or lack thereof), your location—rural areas do not have resources and Teleheath isn’t reliable it becomes a losing game to find help. Then there is the possibility that they will overmedicate you or place you on anti-depressants that can cause suicidal and homicidal thoughts— like Lindsey.
However, the other possibility is that people will dismiss what a doctor does say— Andrea Yates is a prime example of that. Andrea’s support group and husband didn’t follow through with what several doctors recommended— even after being committed for a brief period due to clinical depression from PPD and the death of her father. Dismissing that she shouldn’t have any more kids, that she needed help, that she shouldn’t be left alone with the kids. Other than the last item, her “team” didn’t support what would be best for her mental health. Her husband arranged for his mother to be there whenever he wasn’t, which means he knew her mental health was in trouble. The day she was running late was the day Andrea committed an act that most people can’t comprehend or believe capable of a mother.
For a while, and in the legal world, postpartum psychosis and PPD did get coverage and people began to think more logically about it— but it didn’t make large overarching changes in society.
In the weeks since her case happened, I’ve seen a wide range of thought on the topic thanks to social media. In a refreshing turn, we are seeing more mothers open up about their experiences with hormonal issues, anxiety, PPD, and early stages of psychosis and their various journey reaching out for help. Normalizing motherhood and mental health is positive.
Then, there was a turn.
“None of these people should be mothers.”
“WTF is wrong with people?!?!”
“I was just worried about dropping my baby and they are over here thinking about stabbing them! That’s not an intrusive thought— that’s premeditation.”
“They are all broken in the head. They need Jesus.”
“Why are they saying this stuff!?!?! They need to be talking to their doctor not putting it on Tiktok for clout or to make it normal!”
And we’re back at shutting down the conversation about how childbirth effects mothers. What’s even sadder? It’s other mothers shutting down the conversation.
Luckily— people are not letting this conversation stop. I’ve been seeing more responses:
“This comment is the reason we are still having discussions about people like Andrea Yates— because you don’t want us to talk about it.”
“You’re the reason so many mothers don’t talk about what’s really going on.”
“That’s an anxious thought— an intrusive thought is something *you* do that is horrible. The people on TikTok making videos about it aren’t using it right.”
Even in the three years since I gave birth, I’ve seen a lot of positives come about. Whether that was due to the pandemic and the effects on mental health or just social media providing connections to people it was refreshing.
However, in my daily life I was still not bringing up how I really felt to most of the real-life people I encountered. Most of them only wanted to see the baby.
I got a lot of:
“You must feel like a million bucks!”
“This is the most important thing you will ever do— being a mother is the most fulfilling thing in the world!”
“How can you be sad with this little bundle of joy?”
“I miss this— if I could I would just stay pregnant all the time.”
And while I never really felt shame from these people, I never felt I could be safe opening up them either.
I remember days when the hormones were intense. I remember how it finally seemed to “normalize” but I still felt off. I was horribly anxious— “I’m so scared I’m going to drop him,” was a constant refrain in my mind.
I would put him down for a nap and in less than five minutes I would be back to check if he was breathing— or if I fell asleep after nighttime feedings, I would instantly wake up freaking out internally that he got choked in his sleep because I didn’t burp him long enough— or SIDS.
Worried was my new normal.
For me it was a series of compounding issues. Because I had lingering depression from dealing with Covid-19 isolation it got worse after giving birth. Then because I’ve suffered from SAD, the winter weather made it harder to find balance at all. The sad thing— I didn’t notice. My husband did.
“Hey— I haven’t seen you reading or writing in a while. You, okay?”
I don’t even think he realizes how much of a red flag that was or how important he noticed and said something.* It made me realize this wasn’t “normal,” and I needed help.
Luckily, I was going in for my six-month checkup and I was able to articulate what was going on and that the things I found joy in were no longer a part of my routine. I felt sad and worried all the time. I couldn’t snap out of it.
I went on a low dose anti-depressant. I talked to someone. I went back to work (actually at work and not teleworking). The sun came up. Within six months I was off the low dose anti-depressant and balance was found.
I’m lucky in my diagnosis and outcomes.
Now, I’m pregnant with my second— and I’m already starting to have worries again. However, this time instead of clamming up about how I really feel, I plan on saying it like it actually is instead of what people want to hear. Or how I perceive they want to hear.
Keep talking,
BJ
*Although, it made me glad I “nagged” him prior to giving birth that if I had big mood changes, stopped doing something I liked, or started acting “crazy” to get me help. He tended to dismiss it thinking I was worrying over nothing. However, he did take a few things from my “lectures,” thankfully.