What were you doing 6 years
ago? Do you remember?
ago? Do you remember?
I don’t specifically remember
but I can almost guarantee that I was wearing a dirty shirt laden with spit up
and breast milk. It’s doubtful if I
would have been showered. The one thing
I know for sure is that I would have had a tear stained face and be holding a
crying baby.
but I can almost guarantee that I was wearing a dirty shirt laden with spit up
and breast milk. It’s doubtful if I
would have been showered. The one thing
I know for sure is that I would have had a tear stained face and be holding a
crying baby.
6 years ago I had a 3-month-old
baby who cried for 7 hours a day. I had
no idea why and no idea how to make her stop.
I do know that she made me so frustrated and angry because she wouldn’t
stop crying and she wouldn’t sleep for longer than 22 minutes at a time.
baby who cried for 7 hours a day. I had
no idea why and no idea how to make her stop.
I do know that she made me so frustrated and angry because she wouldn’t
stop crying and she wouldn’t sleep for longer than 22 minutes at a time.
The rage I felt became
unbearable and I would retreat in myself.
Sometimes I didn’t know who was crying louder – her or me. I distinctly remember a moment in the rocker
when I held her out in front of me (ala The Lion King) and screamed, “Why are
you crying?!” I was often scared of my
rage and anger.
unbearable and I would retreat in myself.
Sometimes I didn’t know who was crying louder – her or me. I distinctly remember a moment in the rocker
when I held her out in front of me (ala The Lion King) and screamed, “Why are
you crying?!” I was often scared of my
rage and anger.
Of course she couldn’t answer
me and to be honest, I don’t know if I was asking her or myself that
question. I only know that I cried
pretty regularly those days.
me and to be honest, I don’t know if I was asking her or myself that
question. I only know that I cried
pretty regularly those days.
I had a husband who worked
100 hours a week and I distinctly remember feeling like this was all a huge
mistake. We had debated about having
children. We dreamt about all the things
we could do with our freedom if we didn’t have them and dreamt about all the fun
we’d have if we did. Surely this was a
punishment from God that I even questioned having children. Other people seemed to do this so
effortlessly. They made it look
easy. Their babies took 3 hour naps and
always smiled and laughed. My baby hated
me and had a hoarse voice from crying all day.
I swear she gave me the evil eye.
100 hours a week and I distinctly remember feeling like this was all a huge
mistake. We had debated about having
children. We dreamt about all the things
we could do with our freedom if we didn’t have them and dreamt about all the fun
we’d have if we did. Surely this was a
punishment from God that I even questioned having children. Other people seemed to do this so
effortlessly. They made it look
easy. Their babies took 3 hour naps and
always smiled and laughed. My baby hated
me and had a hoarse voice from crying all day.
I swear she gave me the evil eye.
I felt helpless and out of control. I
cut us off from the outside world. I
felt as though I didn’t have any help but I doubt I would have let anyone help
if they wanted to. I didn’t know what I
needed.
I hated motherhood. And surely I hated kids, or at least mine
hated me.
hated me.
Looking back now, it almost
plays back like a bad movie who’s star was anyone other than me. I often remember those feelings because they’re
just below the surface. They wait until
I’m comfortable and then the voices come out and try to tell me that I’m not good enough.
plays back like a bad movie who’s star was anyone other than me. I often remember those feelings because they’re
just below the surface. They wait until
I’m comfortable and then the voices come out and try to tell me that I’m not good enough.
Most days I’m lucky to
suppress them and it’s only rare if I listen.
However, I remember all too well the feelings that came with the
thoughts. “I suck at this.” “I was not
meant to be a mother.”
suppress them and it’s only rare if I listen.
However, I remember all too well the feelings that came with the
thoughts. “I suck at this.” “I was not
meant to be a mother.”
6 years ago I had post partum
depression, post partum obsessive-compulsive disorder, post partum anxiety, and
posttraumatic stress disorder. A woman
named Katherine Stone was my lighthouse.
I never met her but she guided me to shore with the brightest light I
have ever seen.
depression, post partum obsessive-compulsive disorder, post partum anxiety, and
posttraumatic stress disorder. A woman
named Katherine Stone was my lighthouse.
I never met her but she guided me to shore with the brightest light I
have ever seen.
You see Katherine was a
survivor. She wrote almost daily about
her recovery and struggles. She showed
me that it does get better. It’s 6 years
later and I couldn’t even imagine how happy I’d be to be a mama to our three
little ladies. I seriously freakin’ loveit every single day because I remember how far I’ve come.
survivor. She wrote almost daily about
her recovery and struggles. She showed
me that it does get better. It’s 6 years
later and I couldn’t even imagine how happy I’d be to be a mama to our three
little ladies. I seriously freakin’ loveit every single day because I remember how far I’ve come.
For those that suffer… it does get better. It really truly does.
xoxo
–k
This is beautiful. SO beautiful. I was there with you at that same exact time. Mostly anxiety, but the screaming child, the spit-up, the working husband and the exhaustion. I feel you. I felt every word. Thank you for sharing and I'm with you. 100%.
Loved this post Kristina. Honest, powerful, and amazing… just like you.
Loved this post Kristina. Honest, powerful, and amazing… just like you.
I was right there with you. I actually told one of my closest friends, "I can totally understand why some people crack and shake their babies to death." I never came close doing that – I always had just enough strength to put the baby in the crib and walk away – but the CONSTANT screaming and crying – I just couldn't handle it. There was a LOT of crying, and a LOT of denying PPD.
I just thank God I never did anything during that period that I couldn't undo.
Thanks for sharing this – some people stare at me like I'm a demon when I admit to them what I shared with my friend. But if we can't get the truth out there, then we can't help someone else who might be in that place right now.