Baby Blues or Postpartum Depression?

**Trigger Warning: This post contains mentions of suicide and self-harm**

Is there a difference between "baby blues" and postpartum depression? Yes. Most certainly. 

Many women experience the "baby blues" after having a baby. Hormone levels are all over the place. You're making some huge life adjustments that you can't possibly fully prepare for. It's a wonderful, exciting time, but it's also stressful and exhausting. Hence, the ups and downs, the fatigue, the anxiety. Postpartum depression is more than that, though. 

After Sweet Boy was born, I had the "baby blues" for the first week or two. I was exhausted, sore, and irritable. At times, I resented the many "inconveniences" of having a newborn baby. Sweet Boy was born three days before Thanksgiving, and I remember sitting down to eat the feast my family had prepared, exhausted and grouchy, just as the baby started to cry because he was hungry. My frustration and anxiety welled up within me, and I picked him up, in tears, and took him downstairs to feed him in private. Breastfeeding was a little tricky to get the hang of, and I was terrified I'd "flash" someone, so I usually hid myself away to nurse Sweet Boy. I remember getting emotional about things that didn't usually bother me, crying to Stephen about silly things and being afraid that things would never be "normal" again (spoiler alert: things have never gotten back to the way they used to be!). Everything seemed so much more stressful, now that I had a little one to consider in every plan I made. Sweet Boy waking up in the middle of the night to eat and not going back to sleep for two hours freaked me out. I thought I had to "fix" it. At any rate, my emotions leveled out after a couple of weeks. Of course, things were still somewhat stressful (that's just the way it goes), but I felt reasonably calm, happy, and capable after a few weeks. 

Home from the hospital with Sweet Boy.

Fast forward about a year and a half. I had Baby Girl in June of 2014. Her labor went really well, I felt fantastic afterward, and was really proud of myself for how well I had done. She had some trouble with breastfeeding, and we had to supplement with formula for a couple of days, but even then, I felt confident that things would be just fine. We went home and things were a little stressful, but I felt much better prepared for having a newborn this time around. I planned to watch movies and snuggle when Baby Girl woke up in the middle of the night and wouldn't go back to sleep. My mom, sister, and in-laws would help with the kids regularly for the first couple of weeks. I was excited and only a little nervous. 

A couple weeks after Baby Girl was born, my mom mentioned that she would need to get back to her normal routine soon and wouldn't be able to help as much. I tried to tell myself that I would be fine, but I began to have a lot of anxiety about being alone with the kids. I know that this is pretty normal, but once I began spending longer chunks of time alone with the kids, I started to feel crazy. My thoughts would race. I began to fantasize about hurting myself. At times, I wanted desperately to run away and never look back. Sometimes I would imagine where I would go if I did leave, and tried to honestly assess whether I would be willing to come back. I remember sitting in the car with Stephen one day, staring out the window, and calmly thinking to myself, "Yeah, I could do it. I could definitely kill myself. I'm not even afraid. Maybe I should do it." Stephen urged me to talk to my doctor, and I did. I got on some medication and started talk therapy, and both helped quite a bit.

Around the time I was feeling suicidal. I don't look crazy do I? Don't answer that.

Some women experience postpartum depression "directed" at their baby - detachment from the baby, anger toward the baby, sometimes even thoughts of hurting the baby. My PPD was directed more at myself and my son. I felt like I was handling my newborn just fine, but Sweet Boy was almost two and needed a lot of attention and ways to expend his energy. Sometimes I resented him for making more problems for me than I already had. Thankfully, I never had thoughts of hurting him, but I certainly experienced unreasonable anger toward him. 

For the most part, though, I experienced unreasonable anger and hatred toward myself. I felt like a pathetic, horrible, disgusting human being, without whom everyone would be much better off. I believed that my intense emotional pain and suffering would disappear if I killed myself and that everyone else would probably be sad, but ultimately just fine. I never did hurt myself, but it was so, so tempting at times.

Trying to play it cool.

Two years later, I'm doing much better, but I still sometimes struggle with depression and anxiety. Just last week, I put both kids down for a nap and curled up in my bed trying to breathe and deal with the intense, unexpected emotional pain I was experiencing that day. Somehow, curling up and putting pressure on my chest makes me feel slightly better. When I get like that, I feel like my sense of reality could be compared to being in a car rolling down a hill (admittedly, though, I've never actually been in that situation). It rolls, you hurt, you're not sure when it will stop or if it ever will. You wonder if you'll make it out alive. You know solid ground exists but you're not sure, in that moment, where it is in relation to your body. Things are beyond your control, and you just close your eyes tightly and pray that it'll be over soon. Except when my reality is spinning around like that, it hurts so much that I'd almost rather kill myself than continue dealing with that level of seemingly endless, seemingly unfounded pain. I have to close my eyes, hold on tight to my center, and hope that the terrifying, painful ride will be over soon. 

Most of the time, things don't get that bad. When I do get depressed, it's usually more of the "irritable, easily overwhelmed, unmotivated" variety. Which of course still sucks, but is much more manageable. Most of the time, I feel pretty good. 

Grateful for this man who loves me in spite of my crazy times.

So, how did I know that my postpartum depression wasn't just "baby blues?" Baby blues only last a couple of weeks. Baby blues are marked by emotional ups and downs, stress, fatigue, etc., much like depression, but PPD is worse. Much worse. I felt crazy, out of control. I knew, logically, that hurting myself or running away wouldn't make things better, but part of me was positive it would. I hated myself intensely. I hated everything. These things aren't normal parts of the postpartum blues. They're serious and shouldn't be ignored. There is a lot of help available, even online - here's one of many great websites. 

 If you or someone you know experiences these kinds of feelings and haven't already sought help, please do. It may feel, in the moment, like you and the world would be better off if you disappeared, but I can guarantee that's not true. Take care of yourself. You won't always feel this way, and when you start feeling better, you'll be so glad you got help to push through. There are so many good things in life that you don't want to miss. Give yourself a chance. You are worth it. <3  

Two of the many reasons I'm grateful to be alive.