There were some really great responses in the comments section, but I heard from a healthcare professional who was disappointed that there weren't even more. She is really interested in hearing from moms what the tipping point was, what made them call a doctor or other provider.
So in the interest of getting more responses, I'm offering a little prize: a Postpartum Progress coffee mug.
Ooooooooooh. Aaaaaaaah.
Comment below (click the word "comment" at the bottom of this post) and let us know what made you seek treatment, and I will enter you into a drawing for the mug. What changed your mind if you were avoiding asking for help? What or who convinced you that you needed help and made you feel it was ok to call a doctor? Or made you call a doctor even if you felt it wasn't ok? Whatever it was, dramatic or mundane, we want to hear it.
There will be one lucky winner! (Oh, and don't worry, those of you who commented last week are automatically entered into the drawing.)
I commented last week but I didn't elaborate. My depression surfaced when I was to return to work 8 weeks after my son's birth. At first, I was only emotional when I left for work and was apart from him. Then my emotions crept up on me on a Saturday morning, when I was home with my son and my other kids as well. This didn't make sense to me. I researched PPD and broke down crying to my husband that I had failed. I called my doctor the next day and was put on meds. Actually, today I posted a blog entry about my wanting to wean off my meds, about 8 months later. Fee free to check it out!
I think I knew, deep down, that I needed help early on but I kept convincing myself I was tired, stressed, etc., etc. When my son was baptised at 8 weeks I was so upset that I wasn't there. I mean, physically, I was there…. mentally, not so much. To this day I can barely recall any of the details of the actual baptism. Instead of a beautiful, happy day, my husband and I fought about everything and I spent most of the day crying. I think that was my turning point. Shortly after, my husband finally convinced me to go see my doctor. That was the easy part. I came home with an antidepressant prescription that scared me and it was only after countless hours of research, which included talking to our pedicatrician (I was nursing), and begging from my husband, before I would actually take my first pill. I didn't want to miss any more moments. Realizing that I was missing out was crucial in my finally getting the help I needed.
I almost knew the second I pushed out my daughter that something was wrong. I didnt want to hold her. I didnt want her in the same room as me. It was instant. It was like I had pushed my soul out. I thought that when we got home it would get a bit better. But then I didnt want to go home. I knew I needed help when The physical symptoms of my anxiety started in. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. My shoulder physically ached from the anxiety. my arms would go to jello when I knew I had to hold her.
Thank you so much Katherine for asking this question again!! By learning from moms I am hoping to be able to help them. Another question I have is do the doctors mention that it may be helpful to consider talking with a professional?
You're awesome!!
Six years ago, the reason I sought out treatment–compensation. If I had a diagnosed PPD, I could claim short-term disability. Could not claim it for just being postpartum. Makes me think, if we could just figure out a way to PAY WOMEN TO PUT THEIR OWN NEEDS ON THE TO-DO LIST, maybe more than 20% would seek treatment!
I knew about 2-3 weeks after I returned to work. I remember crying a lot, having severe anxiety and (what I later discovered was OCD) developed new habits that I had to do or I would go crazy. I was extremely debilitating. I lost my appetite, and had the obvious lack of sleep from helping hubby take care of our little one. Besides seeking professional help, I decided right off the bat that if medication was needed to get me back to "normal", then I would do it. For me, taking medication is huge because I was (and still am)for the most part anti-medication. I'd prefer to let me body become stronger by fighting it off on its own. Tea, vitamins are ok, but OTC or prescription medication was not for me. My hubby and best friend (who is also OCD, not postpartum though), knew it was serious.
Wow…there are quite a few things that contributed to me getting the help that I needed. I wrote out a synopsis of my story on my blog, but there are some more details I could give, I guess. For one, I do feel very fortunate that my midwife scheduled a 3 week postpartum appt. just to check up on me and see how I was healing, how nursing was going, and so forth. I really wanted to tell her what was going on with me, but I was so afraid and ashamed–but she noticed that something was not right and gently prodded me with questions. One of the best things she did for me was to offer to speak to my husband for me–I had not been able to explain anything to him at this point because I was too afraid that he wouldn't respond the way I needed him to. She also wanted me to go on medication, but I refused–I really did feel that I could figure out a way to "fix" this on my own. Medication scared me to death! I am sad to say that I had to get much worse before I was willing to go on medication. I had to try everything and feel utterly hopeless and try to kill myself before I was able to swallow that pill. My midwife really tried to get me to go to counseling too. She called me with different names of people several times–I think I had at least 4 appt. with her postpartum–which was very helpful! She encouraged me to find other people to talk to–which led me to open up to a few close friends who were so supportive. Even though this might sound silly, reading this this blog and others that Katherine links to really encouraged me that there was hope and it was okay to need counseling or medication, hearing other women experiencing such similar things really helped me not to feel like a freak!
simply reading that if I didn't get help it would be that much harder to heal at a later stage was a big motivator for me. I also read that the children of depressed mother's can have some problems, and I was already worried about my lack of empathy or connection with my son. It was a post on Penelope Trunk's blog which made me realise what was wrong with me – before I had been feeling so terrible from sleep deprivation I couldn't think straight to analyse that it wasn't just the effect of the sleep deprivation making me feel so bad. I also got to the point where I absolutely could not function any more – could barely drive I was so anxious, couldn't concentrate enough to work, and just sat in my office crying all day – I knew I had to do something to get my life back.
My anxiety was building everyday since my son was born. When he was 3 months old, I had a major panic attack one day and afterwards, I started sobbing and couldn't stop. I felt like an anxiety monster had taken over my brain and I wanted to find a doctor who could give me something to calm me down. I called about 10 doctors until one could see me the following day. I wasn't sure if it was PPD or something else at that point and I wasn't sure I would ever get better, but I wanted something to at least help me function while I figured out what was going on.
So in your case it was essentially about not being able to be the mom you wanted to be? I think a lot of women reach out for help because of that.
Thanks for sharing this Samantha. Some women feel just fine for a while and the depression or anxiety or PTSD creeps up on them. Others feel empty from the very start. That's important for new moms to know.
What were your thoughts about therapy? Were you aware that could help, or did you just want medication to make it better? I'm always curious about this.
So another thing that impacts moms is being aware of the negative impact of continuing to go untreated. Thanks for that Katherine.
By the way, I think your name is spelled just perfectly.
What we wouldn't have given to be able to request treatment! I wanted help, for us it was more of an issue of finding it. Our first experience getting help was trial by fire after my husband brought me to the hospital when I was feeling "foggy"; I was taken away from him and admitted into a psychiatric ward because I was unable to respond to any questions with anything more than an "I don't know" or "I don't understand." I was experiencing perinatal psychosis, but after that first episode passed, it took a long time for us to figure out what was going on and where to get help. We didn't know the right questions to ask, and apparently my symptoms were unusual. From our regular hospital and OB, we followed recommendations for psychiatrists, therapists, and women's health specialists in the area. We were given a very vague diagnosis of "some sort of perinatal mood disorder." However, no one sounded very confident in the diagnosis or best treatment plan for my case. My symptoms reappeared a couple of weeks after I delivered my healthy and beautiful baby girl, and then my health was very up and down for the next month. Several different courses of medication either kept me from sinking into catatonia or catapulted me into worse shape, we couldn't be sure. When I lost the ability to eat (not that I didn't want to, but I lost the cognitive ability to coordinate my movements), that was when we knew we needed to do something more drastic than waiting it out with low doses of medication that turned me into a zombie. I was separated from my daughter for two weeks while I recovered and also underwent ECT, which might have been what finally pulled me out of the cycle for good, we aren't sure. Finally when I was about four months postpartum and had been free of symptoms for a couple of months, we started to breathe easier and believe I was through it. Reassurance from reading a book written by another woman with postpartum psychosis (Twomey: Understanding Postpartum Psychosis) did more for my peace of mind than any of the evaluations by psychiatrists. It was very difficult to sort out the advice of psychiatrists who were pushing medication that would have forced me to give up breastfeeding when we couldn't be sure that the medication would help or if the psychiatrists might be erring on the side of overprescribing (of course they must be cautious given tragic outcomes from other cases of postpartum psychosis, but I never had thoughts of harming myself or daughter, I was desperate to get help so that I could care for my baby–and medications that sedated me were not helping!). I hope that anyone else who experiences a postpartum mood disorder can find a compassionate doctor who has knowledge of the many different forms of illness and proper treatments.
Ditto Samantha. I knew immediately, but didn't get help until the manic/almost psychotic symptoms arose from the 5 weeks of sleep deprivation. Wanting to check myself into a psych ward scared me into calling a psychiatrist.
For me it was my lose of self and of function. I could not function from day to day, I was constantly crying, having panic attacks, I did not enjoy anything. I know that there had to be somthing wrongm but I was still scared to get help. I thought it ment I was a bad mother, and that I was weak, even though my baby's needs were always more than met, but my needs were not even in the picture. Everyone kept telling me I was doing so well, and i would just snap out of it, but I finally went to my dr and told her I was having trouble. She said but you seem so well, then I started crying uncontrolably and she sent me to a psychiatrist. I am most disappointed in the lack of knowledge health professionals have and how long it takes to get treatment. We are still trying to get me on a medication and dose that is effective, I haven't felt like me for over a year. But sites like this keep me going back, letting me know that there is a right treatment plan for me I just have to keep fighting and find it.
I was anxious from the get-go, but I thought this was normal first baby stuff. When I started my daughter on solid foods, my body did not adjust well to the shift in breastfeeding hormones. Within a month, I couldn’t sleep or if I did, I awoke having panic attacks. I stopped eating. Cried constantly. Felt like I was going nuts.
I told my husband to call my doctor and tell them that if I didn’t see the doctor TODAY I was gonna end up in the hospital. I knew I wasn’t well but I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
Everything I’d ever read said postpartum mood issues happened early on, within 6-8 weeks. I had no idea that they can occur anytime within the first YEAR!!! (And according to the WHO, anytime within the first 2 years).
And when I weaned my daughter at 12 months, my hormones went bonkers again, requiring more medication.
I have a nice long story but I really just want the mug (really).–Meeka
I definitely had anxiety from the beginning as well. I felt like I was on an adrenaline rush all the time. I couldn't relax, or rest.
It was around the time when I went back to work that everything started to unravel for me. My son was around 11 months old and different aspects of my life started to be affected. Up until that point I had been able to cope at home with all the help that I was getting. I had a great deal of difficulty dealing with the transition of going back to work. I had terrible separation anxiety. I could describe it as a heart wrenching sadness to the depths of my soul, lasting nearly 2 months until going part time. I felt that I was being tortured.
When I stopped breastfeeding my son at 12 months the feelings I was having worsened. I nearly had a complete melt down. I cried all the time. I didn’t feel well. I didn’t want to face anybody. I felt that I should be handling new motherhood better than this. I worried whether my son could tell that I felt so bad, or noticed that I was crying so much. I worried what others thought about me. I remember saying to people close to me, I just don’t feel right, something’s off balance, I can’t control my emotions. I feel like an emotional basket case, like I’m going crazy. I feel that everybody is judging me, and no one understands.
It got to the point where I couldn’t continue the way I was going. I was trying so hard to keep it all together. I had good days, but more bad days. It was so frustrating. My anxiety worsened. I had difficulty sleeping at night and started to wake up in the morning with this awful feeling in my stomach. My thoughts were racing much of the time. I was irritable with my husband, and lacked patience with my son. The smallest thing he did would stress me out. My son was 15 months old before I decided I needed professional help. I finally feel like I'm on the right track now.
Oh Laura. That’s awful. This is why sharing your story is so important. The medical community needs to see all of the different ways that women who suffer are treated – the quality (or lack thereof) of the care they receive. This just reinforced the need to have well-trained healthcare providers working with new mothers.
Have you reached out to the PSI coordinators in your state? I think it would also help to have more people to talk to locally who can provide you support.
I had very little information regarding PPD that when I actually developed symptoms, I was convinced that I had lost my mind and was terrified to tell anyone. What was more troublesome was the fact that I did not love my son instantly. I didn’t want anything to do with him. I would sometimes daydream about someone coming into my house and kidnapping him. I figured that if he was gone, then I would be better and our lives would be back to normal. The sense of relief that I felt after thinking such thoughts was troublesome. I would think “How could a good Mother wish that upon their child. I am a horrible person.” The guilt that followed swallowed me whole.
I was plagued with anxiety, panic attacks, derealization, intense rage and a tremendous fear of leaving my house. However none of those symptoms really persuaded me to seek help because I honestly did not really know what was going on with me and I was terrified to admit that I was “crazy”. It was one defining moment that pushed me. We had gone to a wedding when I was 4 or 5 weeks postpartum. My parents had taken my son overnight. Tons of people at the wedding approached us and made comments like “First night out without the baby…you must be nervous” or “I would be frantically calling home every hour to make sure he was ok.” but the thing is I really didn’t care how the baby was. So all night I begrudgingly pretended to call home and pretended to be concerned…but deep down inside I just didn’t care. The morning after the wedding, when we went to go pick up our son, I felt an overwhelming sense of anger. I didn’t want to get him. I didn’t want him back. I cried the whole way to my parents house and when we pulled into the driveway, I asked my husband one question “Do you love him?”. When he said “Of course I do. Don’t you?” and I couldn’t answer, I knew then that I needed help.
My husband came with me to my appointment which helped ease my fears tremendously. Admitting that I was feeling “crazy” was one of the most hardest things I have ever done but am so glad that I did it. I truly believe that if I had more information on PPD such as the vast number of symptoms associated with it, then I would have gotten treatment sooner. Knowledge it a powerful thing!!
I had tried to reach out for help from medical professionals numerous times. Each time I was given less than adequate support. In the ER the doctor honestly told my husband “good luck trying to find someone to help her.” My OB did not return a desperate phone call telling her I really felt like hurting my daughter. I told her that day I was able to control my urge but I did not know how long I could control the urges. Instead of returning my phone call, she sent a note along with some paper work to my moms house saying I should seek psychological help immediately. I had lost complete faith in medical professionals. I refused to go to counseling. I had lost all trust in the medical profession. My sister made some phone calls and found a local support group. I made a promise to her that I would at the least go to three support group meetings. Being accountable to someone other than myself is what made me go to a support group. I did not want to disappoint her. The support group was the one thing that I did for myself without fail. The women in group were the ones I credit with helping me to recover.
Carla
Hi Katherine and all those that are interested in when and how I knew I needed a doctor’s help with my postpartum depression/anxiety. My name is Carol S. and I will briefly describe what happened in that decision. I was about 3-4 weeks postpartum and my brain felt like it wasn’t me or my old self. I was anxious all the time, could not sleep/eat or cry even, which was not me! Anyway in one moment of depair with no one’s advise or help my intuition or inside voice said to call my ob/gyn’s office and get help, this is not okay what I am experiencing. I felt such shame, failure, confusion, despair. I was referred to Dr. Pec Indman LMFT, and she was the guide and help out of this hell. Please feel free to contact me if you or anyone has any more questions for me.
Carol S. #408-209-0620.
I KNEW I wasn’t okay a few days, hell, a few hours, out from delivery. Everyone kept telling me to give it time, it will all get better with time, I wasn’t being patient enough, blah blah blah. You know what, I DIDN’T get better with time, I got worse. I reached out to my doula and MW at 4 weeks post-partum (oh, and did I mention I was already back to work by then?), and begged for a referral to a therapist who was experienced with birth trauma and and birth related PTSD. I got vague responses and a promise of a name and I waited, and waited, and during the course of the waiting my postpartum PTSD reached a crescendo, and then partnered up with PPD. The couple happily married and gave birth to my total nervous breakdown at four months postpartum. It was only when I managed to pull myself out of the breakdown that I was given the name of therapist, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the referral was a day late and a dollar short. I am convinced that getting help earlier, as I tried in vain to do, would have at least lessened the severity of the PPD and most likely have prevented the breakdown entirely. I am 10 months postpartum and still angry about and hurt by the laissez faire attitude of my care provider.
I had tried on my own to find someone to help, my physician only wanted to give me drugs (no thanks), and everyone (including the PCP) couldn’t understand why I wasn’t just overjoyed — “you should be happy you have a healthy baby” and other mindless comments of similar ilk that are incredibly destructive to just about any woman who’s suffered birth trauma. There was no way I could get effective assistance from people who didn’t even understand what I had to be upset about. I even looked into support groups but the one or two I found only met during the day in the middle of the week, which I sure suits a SAHM very well, but not a working one. I have started my own support group, but it’s been slow in getting it up and running. I know there’s lots of women in my community who would benefit from it but finding them and getting them involved has proven difficult.
Wow. You guys really want this mug!
No problem. I appreciate the fact that you gave me an idea. I think it's cool to hear from women directly what made them reach out.
So how many months postpartum was it when you reached out?
So what was it about that point when he was 15 months where you made the call? Was it that you realized it wasn't going to go away on its own? Or did you feel like you couldn't take it anymore? Or something else?
The first sentence in your comment described my situation exactly. I just thought I'd gone irretrievably crazy.
Oh my gosh Carla, that just sickens me. Where do you live? I'd like to hunt those people down and whack them with a dead fish.
This is why survivors who volunteer are so important, like the coordinators at Postpartum Support International, or the people at the PRC of Kansas, or the PRC of NY, or POEM in Ohio, etc. etc. They always know how to show compassion and understanding, because they've been through it themselves.
Pec is awesome! I'm so glad she is the person you were referred to. We just need to clone her.
I tried to start my own group as well and only ever had one person show up. I am definitely NOT the person to talk to about how to grow these groups, but I will ask a few people I know who seem to be experts and see what they have to say.
The anxiety was getting worse.It got to the point where I couldn’t continue the way I was going. I was trying so hard to keep it all together. I had good days, but more bad days. It was so frustrating. My anxiety worsened. The smallest thing my son did would stress me out. My stress response was heightened. I couldn’t find his shoes one morning, and I just wanted to scream to the top of my lungs. I lost it with my husband because I was hoping he would take him to daycare, I let out a frustrated scream. My son looked at me with a panicked look. I felt so awful, I had scared him. As I drove him to daycare he kept turning his head and looking over at me saying ma-ma-ma. I cried all the way to school wondering how I was going to make it through the morning. I couldn’t keep feeling like this, it’s wasn’t fair to my son, to my husband, or to myself. I needed some time to figure it all out, and to get my life back on track. I wanted to find peace and freedom from my own mind. I needed help.
I went for my 6 week check-up and broke into tears talking with my mid-wife about how things were going. My son was born through an emergency c-section and ended up in NICU for 10 days. I remember describing how he looked in the NICU to her and how scared I was that I put him there. She had me get dressed and meet her in her office. We chatted for about 20 mins. about what PPD was and how she thought I had it along with PTSD. She also spent time telling me it was not my fault. She gave me contact names and numbers to call. She also gave me Zoloft. It took me about 1 week of still feeling like an outsider to my family to call for help. The help I got once I called was immediate, kind and understanding. If it was not for these caregivers that I have come to trust and rely on I am not really sure where I or my family would be.
so do I – what a coincidence 🙂
what was funny about my ppd was that it only started at 6 months postpartum – so I had no idea what was wrong with me. Or should I say I only realised something was wrong with me at 6 months postpartum. I didn't understand what it was, as after my son's birth I had been on such a high as it had all gone brilliantly ( a planned homebirth).
But yes it was a huge factor for me knowing that how I was was going to affect not only me but also my son – that really motivated me to do something about it.
gosh but this described me perfectly actually. we also went to a wedding at 8 weeks postpartum, and I wasn't concerned at all. We left him with his grandmother, and she told me he was inconsolable most of the time, and it just did not make me feel any emotion at all, which looking back is a very strange response.
So, uh, when do we find out who wins? 😉
Looking back I realize that it started the second he was born. I had been so excited throughout the entire pregnancy, but once he was born- nothing. It was like I was numb. I never connected with him and I didn't know who this little boy was that I was immediately supposed to love. Breastfeeding was horrible- he nearly starved. I did everything possible to feed him by the breast but nothing worked- I felt (and still feel)that I had failed him as a mother. "I NEED to breastfeed!" I argued. "It's supposed to help me bond with him!" I so wanted to love my baby. Everyone seemed to look at me with accusing eyes- "you're not a good mother". But his heath was more important. I switched him to formula and he was a completely different baby. Happy.
But he never slept. NEVER. I was hallucinating from lack of sleep. And that guilt from breastfeeding clawed at my insides and made me hate myself. I started crying all the time. I wouldn't eat. I never slept. I wasn't a good mother, I told myself. I made everyone around me miserable. It physically hurt me when he would cry. I would become so angry for no reason- completely out of the blue and I started hitting myself trying to get rid of my anger. Screaming didn't work, nor did crying and I didn't want to scare my baby- I loved him too much. So 6months postpartum I asked my doctor for help- and she said "wait a couple more weeks and see if it goes away". I could've strangled her- I had outright asked her for help and she said "no". So I waited, and got worse. I started cutting myself because hitting myself didn't help my anger ease. This scared my husband, so I tried to stop. Which made me start planning suicide. When would be best? I reasoned. If I did this, would my husband be home to take care of our son? Would it be too late for him to save me? I timed things out in my head to perfection, never ever wanting to hurt my son.
At my next appointment I demanded medication. It made a huge impact right away and it's been getting better everyday since. Finally at 1 year postpartum I received help because I demanded it and said "to hell with you doc! I KNOW I need help!"
Now 1 1/2 PP I know I'm not completely well, but I'm so far from where I was. I love my son, I love my husband and I would never dream of leaving them no matter how bad a day I might have.
I never was diagnosed, but I think I had PPD- and my new doctor agrees and is proud of my sticking to my guns.
(Some of your response got cut off, so I'll reply as best I can) I just wanted relief. I was plagued every moment by fear and thought monkeys, and crying. Plus, my son was upset because I was, and that was it. My dr tried relaxation techniques that worked a bit (she wanted to try that before meds) but then I ended up in a really bad situation (for me) and had a panic attack/nervous breakdown and just wanted it to end (the insanity or me, I didn't really care), which landed me in the hospital and on meds.