Depression, part 4: Motherhood

This post is part of a series on depression. Click here for parts one, two, and three.

Let's see, last post I left off with my pregnancy. Well, at least my bedrest. I'm going to leave Sam's birth story for another day, but I can sum up motherhood's effect on my depression symptoms: there was no time to be depressed, and I was blessed with a good hormone cocktail naturally--luck of the draw.

Let me state for the record that post-partum depression is a real thing; many if not most women experience it. If you believe you may have it, or you just feel something isn't right, please see a doctor. You have many options, and they do not necessarily involve having to quit breastfeeding (as many assume is the case).

Fortunately for me, after about the first bumpy week, all those happy breastfeeding hormones kept my depression well in check. There is also something to be said for the fact that you just can't sleep the day away when you have a baby*, or at least you can't sleep any more than they do. The feedings have to happen; the diapers have to get changed. Making the crying stop becomes your #1 priority. Luckily we figured out fast how to make that happen. Sam's first week he was a little hungry because I didn't have him at the breast quite often enough. We started adding a bit of formula (in hindsight, a terrible idea, but whatever) at night and things got sorted out. This eventually led to early weaning between 7 and 10 months, as we tapered slowly until he was only getting one feed at the breast per day, but I am proud of the time we got. The oxytocin boosts helped my mood considerably. I became one of the most laid-back people with, for example, a total lack of road rage and instead a "we'll get there when we get there" type mentality. Little things just didn't bother me at all anymore. I had bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

So, as far as my depression goes, motherhood has been a good treatment. I have to make a choice every day, whether to put aside my depression and keep my kid safe, clean, and fed, or let the darkness overwhelm both of us. Luckily it's always been the former. I'm at a point now where I ask for help sooner, lean on Dan more during the tough months, and let go of anything non-essential. Yes, my laundry and dishes do stack up. But there is always a clean sippy cup, a clean outfit, and food and milk in the house for Sam. Sam's first two years were very busy with doctor's appointments and therapies at least once a week, if not more often than that. When I say that Sam was my full time job, I mean it. Even on days when he didn't have appointments, I was doing his OT throughout the day, taking elbow braces on and off, etc. in addition to the normal mom-stuff.

For about Sam's first 18 months, too, I was seeing my therapist weekly or every other week. Having that one hour to take care of myself, without having Sam need me during that time, was a big part of how I was able to handle the stress of the rest of the week. I should also mention that I had help in the form of friends and family who would watch Sam on occasion and with regularity--those therapy appointments involved playtime with Gramma for Sam. I think all parents need small breaks every now and then.**

*Dan pointed out at the time or a short time later that this is still a choice. There are probably some parents who could choose to put in earplugs and turn on white noise machines and let their children scream, alone, for hours. As I prefer not to lose my son, these were not options for me.
**Naptime or any time baby is sleeping is not break time. It's "be very quiet and listen in case they wake up" time.