Making Steps in Understanding Postpartum Depression Gives Me Hope

I read an article over the weekend with a lump in my throat. NPR covered the fact that a hospital at University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill will be the first in the country to get a clinic specifically for mothers experiencing postpartum depression and other perinatal mood disorders. The story of how Maria Bruno had the police called on her after she admitted to her midwife she had thoughts of hurting herself and was then thrown into the everyday psychiatry ward hit me hard.

That’s why I never told anyone when I had thoughts about driving into threes.

I was afraid of that possibility, of going back to some place like that. I’ll still occasionally have a fleeting memory and will do almost anything to forget it. Immediately. And I was afraid of losing my sons if I admitted my thoughts, my fears, the true extent of my anxiety. I found myself nodding along with the article, sympathizing with Bruno’s story.

A quote from the article lodged somewhere in my throat:

“I’ve had women come in here for a session and have said, ‘All I want you to do is give me the name of an adoption agency, because there’s got to be a better mother out there for this baby than me,’” she says.

I blinked back tears.

There were nights after our older son was born, when he was crying and I couldn’t figure out how to make him stop, that I wondered if we had made a horrible mistake. If I was somehow inherently flawed, if I would never be a good enough mother. I had thought that I had worked through all of my post-relinquishment issues, but the realities of motherhood coupled with sleep-deprivation threw me right back into a swirling pit of self-doubt.

“I couldn’t do it then, what makes me think I can do it now? A husband? A stable income? Stuff? What are those things if I can’t simply be a mother? What if there’s just something in me that will never get motherhood?”

Round and round I would go. Daytime. Nighttime. All day. Everyday. Whether he was crying or not. I was a failure. Plain and simple.

I was at least self aware enough to get myself into therapy and, thankfully, she had some understanding about what postpartum depression was, how to handle it and how the grief and loss associated with relinquishment might exacerbate the issues at hand. I will be forever grateful for her insight, her patience and her ability to help me get outside of my own head.

I still worry, of course, that I can’t be honest about anything I’m thinking or feeling or dealing with at any given time. It’s not as if I feel like a perfect parent on any given day. I still struggle with that nagging self-doubt. I still wonder if I’ll ever be good enough. I still pray that somehow I’ll be able to let go of it all and just be their mom. I still worry that if I step out of line, at all, I won’t be given a fair chance because — after all — I’m one of those women who gave up a baby. I was less than, a risk, once before, so why wouldn’t I be now?

Logically, I see the flaw in these thoughts, especially the last train. But others — sometimes the ones that count the most — don’t see it differently than my illogical thought process. I wish they would and maybe someday they will, but for now that fear is a partial reality.

It is my dream, of course, that someday a clinic (or, let’s get big and say clinics — plural) will exist for mothers and fathers who have relinquished their children. For whatever reason. In whatever circumstance. We want to understand how perinatal mood disorders alter a mother’s ability to function. I want people to understand how relinquishment and (for the mothers, at least) perinatal mood disorders might also have an effect on their daily function. Forever. I know the postpartum depression clinics are needed. I see this as a move in the right direction. But I can only hope that someday the mothers who have relinquished will also be seen as worthy of mental health care.

Until then, I write in hopes that some mother won’t feel as crazy and as alone as I did.

For more about the clinic, hit up Postpartum Progress’s post on the matter.