(Disclaimer: We are obviously not Doctors. We are not here to officially diagnose you. We are sharing our stories. We are starting the conversation and hoping to be part of ending the stigma. Please seek professional help if you feel you may be suffering in your mental health. There is no shame in going for a mental check up, much like the 6 week postpartum physical. In fact it can help in preventing more serious issues down the line. )
May is Mental Health Month. Unlike Breast Cancer Awareness Month for example, this goes mostly unnoticed despite it being around since 1949. If you happen to see someone wearing a green ribbon in the month of May, it’s fair to believe they are a supporter of those who may suffer from mental illness.
The first week of May focused on Maternal Mental Health specifically. As this is my first year as a mother, this was also my first year knowing that this was even a thing. I am so glad it is. I hope that Mama Wolff & I can help to de-stigmatize the issues that many mothers face throughout their motherhood journeys. Just talking with each other, we have discovered that a moment of bravery and honest sharing can genuinely help another mama not feel so alone.
If you haven’t gotten the message yet, that’s why we’re here. That’s why we created this space. So that us mama’s do not have to feel alone.
In order to teach our children how to love & care for themselves we must set the example by loving & caring for ourselves. You wouldn’t want your child suffering in silence, so we must set good examples. Any day is a good day to reach out. Please join us in this act of bravery and share your journey, even if it’s just with a friend over coffee or stepping into a therapists office for the first time.
Studies show that anxiety and related disorders affect 15% of women who are pregnant. And 17 % of early postpartum women. This is more than three times the incidence of postpartum depression. So how do you know? And how do you cope? Below is a short checklist of things to know and watch out for, but please go and get checked by a doctor if you are feeling anxious. Get a second opinion if you need to. A third. A fourth. Talk until you are heard! This is just a taste of the information to get you started. Some level of worry will always come with parenting, but when it consumes your life, debilitates your days and nights...that is when you need to reach out.
Recognizing Signs in Postpartum Anxiety
-Do you have constant worry, racing thoughts, a nagging feeling something bad is going to happen to the point it stops you from enjoying life?
-Does it stopping you from interacting with your child?
-Grinding teeth, tense/ sore muscles, pain in back & neck.
-Difficulty concentrating or focusing. Forgetfulness beyond ‘Mom Brain’
-Disturbances to sleep and appetite.
How to Deal with Postpartum Anxiety
-Talk. Share. Open up. Find a mom tribe and connect. Even if it’s only one mom. Supportive mother friends can help you not feel so alone. They can share their stories, their experiences and by getting involved you can increase your confidence by knowing that it isn’t just you. All moms struggle.
-Talk to your doctor. See if medication might be right for you. Perhaps therapy is the answer.
-Meditation and mindfulness practices can help you understand the flow of thoughts.
-Drink your water, fuel your body. When your tank is running on low, you cannot function at your highest level. Sleep is also very important, but the last thing a mother needs to be told is to get enough sleep. I know, you’d probably be sleeping right now, if you could.
-Self care practices. Yup, here we go. I know what you must be thinking. Another blogger preaching to you about bubble baths and essential oils. If that works for you, awesome! Bubble baths don’t really do the trick for me. They’re nice, but they don’t rejuvenate me the way I need them too. There will a Mommy Self Care series coming soon! But for now, focus on doing something that brings you joy for the four core areas of self. Mind, Body, Soul & Spirit. Even just ten or twenty minutes on each a day can make a huge change in how you feel about yourself and the world around you.
I have spoken to women who went years undiagnosed; suffering in silence and thinking they were crazy. Of course there are the mothers who have spoken out and were ignored, either by their friends and partners or doctors. I’ve talked with women about their experiences with the loss of a child and that when they become mothers later in life, they are on constant red alert for fear that something may happen again. Mothers who were terrified to leave the house incase their child got sick. I have spoken to women that have coped with medication, therapy, exercise and getting outside. Women who have educated themselves on anxiety so they know what triggers them and what best helps them cope.
This is my story...
I have struggled with mental illness my entire life. I’ve battled anxiety, fought off depression and survived scary suicidal thoughts. Because of this, I knew that I was at high risk for PPD (postpartum depression). I told my husband, my family & friends all to watch me closely after my daughter was born. I wasn’t going to risk going undiagnosed and having something potentially tragic happen. Miraculously, the fourth trimester came and went, and for the majority of it I was on cloud nine.
Aside from the sore nipples, sleep deprivation, hormone fluctuations, body image issues and general feeling of ‘What the Hell am I Doing?’ of course....
Through it all, I loved being a mother. I loved my baby. I was the happiest I had ever been. I didn’t think that I could ever, ever be sad despite the amount I cried, especially around 6 weeks when my mother left after staying with me while I recovered from having a c-Section. The doctor ruled I couldn’t lift anything over 10 pounds. Well...my daughter was nearly 11 when she was born. So I basically wasn‘t even allowed to pick her up myself. I did of course...because I’m stubborn. I give credit to the support system I had those first six weeks to helping me avoid PPD.
I’d had my placenta encapsulated as I heard that it can help ward off PPD. After a few months I became a bit slack with taking it and I started to notice that on the days I remembered, my hormones were a bit wacky. I cried more. I had a shorter temper. Nothing extreme. Just that I felt less in control. Who knows really if the placenta pills were effecting me badly. I’m not sure. I’m glad I have them though. I definitely do not regret getting them.
My husband and I share a vehicle to help us save money, and so I rarely went places without him. My daughter would scream bloody murder every time she was in the car seat. Even if I sat in the back with her. I did feel a little housebound, but I got through it. Still, the anxiety was there and I’m sure if I’d had my blood pressure tested at the time of packing her up to go places, it would have been through the roof.
Around the 7 month mark, I noticed that I was starting to get burnt out. So much happens in the first year of your child’s life. It’s a rollercoaster. Between breastfeeding, contact napping, quality time reading books and cuddling, plus bedsharing...my daughter was hardly out of my arms. She got a good amount of independent play every day, but I had a lot of issues letting her go.
I still do at 10 months.
I came to realize that I had been focusing on the wrong thing. I’d managed to avoid PPD, and instead PPA snuck in the back and made a little nest in my mind. I hadn’t experienced or shown any real known signs of major anxiety through pregnancy, so it wasn’t even on my radar. I did have fears sharing the news that we were pregnant, due to the fact we‘d had a miscarriage the year prior. But nothing that felt abnormal or over the top. I didn’t avoid telling anyone that I knew I wouldn’t mind ‘untelling’ if another miscarriage were to happen again.
Postpartum anxiety registers differently in women the same way that depression can register differently person to person. I found myself daily battling good old fashioned anxiety and depression. Nothing I didn’t think I couldn’t handle. But there was the added ongoing hormone fluctuations that come with a healing mama’s body and breastfeeding. And the cherry on top was PPA.
If I vocalized my anxious thoughts, I was brushed aside half heartedly by most people around me. I was told to just power through. Get over it. That mom life is hard. All moms go through this. I had to just buck up and do things anyway. That I was going to ruin my daughter, spoil her for keeping her so close. (That winning comment was said to me when my daughter was three weeks old.) I was described as being a crazy, hormonal, helicopter mom.
But I couldn’t just let go. The same way anyone with anxiety can’t just ‘get over it’. It’s not a switch easily flipped. For me, I found it much worse to be anxious over my child than myself. I truly believe that my anxiety was triggered by our experience in the hospital, and my disappointment in myself for not better protecting my daughter. My Mama Bear instincts had been awoken, and were revved up; looking and preparing for any source of attack from then on.
I remember when I was taking defensive driving and getting my license as a teenager, they taught us to always be watching the road. Anticipating that car swerving, that light changing, or an animal jumping out in front of us. For me, postpartum anxiety was kind of like that. And as a mother with anxiety and control issues I feared what could happen to her if my eyes weren’t on her at all times.
My PPA registers in my body as; migraines, body soreness, increased heart rate, extreme nausea, cystic acne and insomnia.
I remember laying awake some nights during the newborn stage, just making sure that her little chest would rise, and fall. Rise and fall. I was terrified to sleep, because what if the moment I went to sleep was the moment she stopped breathing? I had read horror stories of SIDS. I’d been judged for bedsharing, but I honestly didn’t care what anyone thought. The idea of putting my daughter in her crib in a different room made me want to throw up. When I did sleep it was only because I knew she was right beside me.
Night and day, I was on red alert. I knew how easy it was for kids to get hurt. Especially mobile ones like my daughter who crawled around 6 months and began walking solo before 9 months. She moves fast when she wants to! And she’s strong. Just this week while I was working out, I noticed she is able to lift 3 pound weights with one hand, and nearly 5 pounds with both.
The idea of leaving my daughter with a baby sitter made me physically ill. She was strictly breastfed as well, so I really worried about her eating if she was to be babysat at a young age as she would fight having a bottle. The thoughts in my mind of the potential “what if’s” played on a loop.
And don’t even get me started on the panic attack that would flood through me when it came time to think about Godparents and who Papa Bear and I would leave in charge to care for her if something happened to us. No one was going to watch, love and care for her like I could. No one could anticipate her needs like I could. It wasn’t that I don’t trust the members of village with her. I know how absolutely loved and adored she is. At the same time, committing someone else to raising a child that you created is a huge thing to ask of someone.
When the time would come that I did have to leave her, the anxiety really stepped up. My hands would start shaking, I fought to breathe evenly. My mind would start racing in overtime. In the first 9 months I managed to leave her only twice. Once to get my wisdom teeth removed because the pain was making it impossible to function. This was around 4 months.
The second time, around 8 months for a girls night/ birthday celebration to a hockey game. This one really took a toll on me. I broke out in intense stress acne and I obsessed over anything and everything that could go wrong the 6+ hours I would be away. My mind was buzzing; not just that night before we went out, but daily. For weeks prior. I could let the thoughts go throughout the day if I stayed busy, but they always came back. Especially at night when I was still and trying to rest.
I reached out to online mom support groups for advice on how to make the night easier on my husband and daughter. In the first group I was shamed for leaving my daughter. For taking a few hours off. Something I was already feeling the ‘mom guilt’ about without anyone’s help. At least thirty five women all responded, telling me not to go. Telling me I was a bad mom for leaving my daughter. How could I do this to my baby? I couldn’t believe it. I started thinking they were right. The voice in my head got louder and meaner. I fought back though. I turned to a different group, asked my question and told them what happened in the last group. I begged them not to shame me for going out. This time I was attacked for being so attached to my child. For her being 8 months old and this being the first time I’d gone out with friends. For not having a life outside of motherhood. Didn’t I know that there were mothers who had to go back to work at 6 weeks. Didn’t I want my daughter to have independence?
I felt like I couldn’t win.
Like I was trapped.
After several talks with my mother and a couple helpful, supportive friends I worked on changing my mindset. People kept telling me that I needed a break. I needed to be away from my daughter. Which honestly only made me hold on tighter.
Then, finally a breakthrough. I will never forget what my one mom-friend said. She told me to stop thinking of it like a break. Like I was abandoning my daughter to go have fun without her. Instead, she told me to think of it as giving Baby Bear and Papa Bear special bonding time. That really resonated in me, and because of it I managed to get my hair and makeup done, dressed and out the door. On time, no less! It was a good night. I had fun.
Considering how anxious I felt, I kept the check in texts to a minimum. Well...I texted less then I wanted to. So I call that a win. Everyone survived, though the mom guilt grew when my husband told me how hard it had been on him. (He sugarcoated I’m sure to keep me from feeling more guilt than I already did.) Still, I was glad that I went. I was also very glad to be home when it was all over and have her back in my arms.
Next I need to work on leaving my daughter with someone other than my husband. It’s not that I don’t trust my friends and family. My daughter has many wonderful people who love her. It’s not about them, it’s about me. Anxiety plays tricks on the mind; anyone who’s had a mental illness can tell you that. I’m at a crossroads between wanting to be my own person again on occasion, and basking in the comfort of motherhood. I’m a mother now. I have a new normal, and that includes figuring out life with my daughter at my side. This is what I’ve always wanted to do. This is what I was meant to do. I didn’t have a child to show her off like a cute accessory and then stick her with her grandparents every weekend. I truly love her presence.
She will grow soon enough, have more independence, go for sleepovers with friends or grandparents. Then she’ll be off to school and I’ll have even more free time. Having a hard time letting her go isn’t just one thing. It is anxiety, mixed in with a cup of mom guilt. There’s a dash of fear too of being judged for passing off my daughter to someone else to watch her when she is my responsibility. But the truth is, I feel safe in my motherhood. I feel safe with my daughter. Is it perfectly healthy to never be away from her? No. Do I have some stuff that I need to work on? Absolutely. 100%. I am working on it, every day.
Every parent with grown children tells me to hold on to these moments. To soak them in. So that’s what I am trying to do. The days on the calendar are already flying by. I can’t hold onto them any tighter. It doesn’t help how much of a big, strong girl she is with her walking and her eight (almost nine) teeth and her little sounds that are so close to being intelligible words. My little baby is long gone, and I didn’t even get to have her for that long. It’s as if someone is pushing fast forward, and I feel like if I blink, I’m going to miss it. What if I had been out with the girls the night she took her first steps? Or if I’d gone out for coffee the morning she laughed the first time and missed it?
These days are precious, and I can’t go back in time. So while I am battling postpartum anxiety, I also know that I am not 100% wrong in wanting to keep my daughter close this first year. Our little ones change and grow so quickly. So I try and recognize the causes of the anxiety attacks so I can recognize when the voices in my head are my actual mom guilt or the big bad wolf; anxiety. (No offence Mama Wolff. It’s just an expression.)
Battling anxiety and depression as a mother isn’t easy. It’s hard sometimes to be needed as much as I am by my daughter, but it’s also the glue holding me together. It keeps the suicidal thoughts far, far, far away. I no longer feel as though the world is better off without me like I used to. Motherhood saved my life in a lot of ways. I know what I was put on this earth to do. Why I endured and battled abuse, abandonment, and my own mind.
To raise this little girl into an extraordinary woman. One who is brave and does things anyway, despite any mental illness she may face in her life. Part of me hopes she doesn’t see me struggle. And yet, I hope she sees me battle and overcome and keep going. Perhaps it will give her the strength when or if she ever needs it.
I am an excellent mother. Even though I suffer with depression, and anxiety. If used correctly, it can be a superpower. I can use it to anticipate true danger and protect her from it. I am a mother with a good heart and a strong mind. I am a mother that struggles. And I am a mother that will never give up. I can’t; because someone very important is watching me.
-Mama Bear 🐻