Right now I'm supposed to be baking a cake. And finishing the laundry so that I can pack stuff for all four people in my family for our Labor Day weekend trip to the mountains — clothes, video camera, digital camera (does it need batteries?), video player for car ride (oh crap, it's not charged up), son's bday presents (oh crap, I don't have any wrapping paper). And taking a shower so that I can be at my son's school by noon to help with a class project. I have less than two hours to complete all of this and more. But ICANNOTdo that at the moment because I MUST, MUST, MUST write about this:

Jane, the mom over at His Boys Can Swim, was just diagnosed with postpartum depression. So this week she went to her very first appointment with a psychiatrist. I just know the readers of Postpartum Progress will be as upset about this as I am.Here is a bit of what happened at her appointment (and my commentary as well in italics):

"I filled out tons of paperwork and wondered why they were asking such vague questions. There was nothing about pregnancy or postpartum depression and I began to wonder if this psychiatrist was the right one for me."

No questions about pregnancy or postpartum depression? Hello?! This is the first hint of trouble.

"The receptionist, and I repeat, receptionist, started asking me questions. Some personal about any sexual, emotional, or physical abuse (no) to what my husband’s name, age, how much caffeine he drank."

How much caffeine her husband drinks? And this has to do with PPD how exactly? And is this receptionist a clinician?If so, she should have said so. If not, she shouldn't be interviewing the patient.

"Next page of paper was all about sex.'When was the last time you had sex?', she asked. I told her that it was the day before I had my son – July 22nd. She made a face and was like 'Wow, that’s been a while. Do you feel like your sex drive has diminished?'

I wanted to say, 'No moron. Again I’m here for postpartum depression, which means that I just had a baby, which means that I couldn’t have sex until I was cleared by my OB, which again, was last Friday.'It was completely pointless and she kept on asking questions like this.

I kept on telling her the same damn thing, 'I just had a baby so…'"

Start heading for the door.

"About 30 minutes had gone by and it was now 1:15pm. The receptionist said that the Dr. should arrive around 2pm and that I was to meet with the male nurse next and then I was free to leave for lunch as long as I was back by 4:30pm.

Um, excuse me? I told her that my appointment was at 12:30pm and that the Dr. was already late since it was 1:15pm. She asked, 'Didn’t anyone tell you that she arrives at 2pm?'No they didn’t tell me that because if they did I would certainly have shown up at 2pm instead of 12:30pm."

What kind of outfit is this? Probably some psychiatrist recommended by a bleeping insurance panel. Now she gets interviewed by another person:

"Then he asked me what year we were in. I felt like I was a patient that had just had a stroke or passed out. I was not seeing a psychiatrist for anything other than postpartum depression, so wouldn’t you have thought that they could have skipped over their 'normal' protocol?

He told me, 'I’m going to tell you three words that I want you to remember and I’ll ask you to repeat them to me later on. They are: flower, penny, tiger. Can you repeat them back to me?'

'Flower, penny, tiger' and I added a little eye roll too.

Next he asked who the President of the USA was and I told him Obama. Then he asked for the Vice President. Oh shit, I couldn’t remember and I figured this wasn’t going to look good …

My blood is boiling. This woman is suffering from postpartum depression. She gets the courage to reach out for help. She's been awaiting this day, hoping she can talk to someone about what's going on with her, even though she's scared out of her wits. She wasn't sent there because she's psychotic. She wasn't sent there because she has dementia. I'm seriously practically hyperventilating.

"The Dr. came in [at 3:30 for a 12:30 appointment, I might add] and looked like she belonged somewhere else, definitely not in charge of these patients. She spent five, maybe ten minutes with me and that was it …"

Five minutes at the first appointment. Wow. Run, Jane, run for your life.

To make a long story short, the doctor then whips out the prescription pad for a couple of medications and tells her to come back in a week for a med check and be prepared to wait again. Jane decides never to go back. Who could blame her?

"Why is it so hard to find good help for postpartum depression? Why did I just waste 4 hours of my time at that psychiatrist’s office and all she wanted to do was medicate me? She didn’t even ask me questions about how I was feeling. The day was such a let-down."

Good question Jane. It shouldn't be so hard.

Jane's story is a lesson for every new mom reaching out for help. You must reach out for help, let's get that straight. But you must also know that if any of the things that happened to Jane happen to you, leave.

There ARE people who are specialists.Here is what good therapists and psychiatrists and social workers will do:

  • They will operate their offices professionally.
  • They will listen very carefully to you and what you are going through.
  • They will do what they can to make you feel comfortable and they will welcome questions and concerns.
  • They will ask you questions about when you had your baby, how much support you have, how much sleep you are getting, how breastfeeding is going if you are in fact breastfeeding, what kind of symptoms you are having (guilt, sadness, difficulty concentrating, etc.), how you are feeling about being a mom, whether you are having scary thoughts, how well you are eating, whether you have contemplated suicide, etc.
  • They will talk to you specifically about postpartum depression and the various methods of treatment (not just medication), and will talk to you about the medication should you choose to take it, including potential side effects.

This psychiatrist, whoever she was, is NOT one of those people.

There is no excuse for what Jane went through. It is awonderful thingthat she decided to keep reaching out for treatment and found someone better, rather than just quitting right then and there. Others, weighted down by the heavy misery of PPD, might have just given up.

Please, my dear readers and clinican friends, speak up on this one. Now off to that shower …