This morning, I read about another mom of young children taking her own life. I sat for a half hour and looked all of the tributes, the paragraphs of sadness, the pictures, this woman’s face, her smile. Nobody could understand. She was so happy, so bright, so loved. She had beautiful children and a wonderful husband. They were just on vacation last week, what could have gone wrong? I felt myself feeling so sorry for her husband and children, her family and friends, and most of all for her and the pain she must have felt.
Because I understand.
I’m not sure if what she did was due to postpartum depression or baseline depression or some other form of mental illness. But whatever it was, it made this young mother feel as if there were no other options. Since I don’t know her, and I don’t want to speculate any further about her story, I will tell my story instead in hopes of bringing more awareness to this issue.
I started with postpartum depression following the birth of my second son. It got worse after the miscarriage I had after him and then even worse after the birth of my third son. I felt completely hopeless. I cried all the time. I felt like I couldn’t take care of myself and my children and my house. I felt sorry for my husband who was working full time and having to pick up so much slack when he got home because I just couldn’t keep it all together.
I felt like a burden.
The thoughts consumed me. My children were the most perfect beings and they deserved a mom that was whole. Not a broken mom that couldn’t get herself together. My husband was the most amazing person in the world. He deserved a wife that was just as amazing. Not a broken wife that was continuously falling apart.
I was too afraid to get help. I didn’t want to look like a bad mom or a bad wife. If other people could keep it together, then it was possible, and I just needed to figure it out. I knew about the resources out there. I knew about the day programs and the therapists and medication options.
I didn’t want that.
I didn’t want to burden my husband with staying out of work for longer so that I could attend a program. I didn’t want to burden him to take care of the kids without me because I was getting help somewhere else. I didn’t want to burden my family with having to pick up the slack of me not being there. I didn’t want them to stop their lives out of the obligation of helping my husband with the kids.
Therefore, I trudged along not telling anyone how bad it was getting. I lied over and over and said I was fine. In my head, I needed to figure it out for myself. I was already a burden, and I didn’t want to make it worse.
Before I knew it, I had gotten so bad that I couldn’t imagine living anymore. I felt like such a burden to my husband, my kids, my family, that I concluded that they would be better off without me. At least they wouldn’t have to deal with my issues. They would find someone else that was more emotionally available, someone that could give them a more stable and happy life. I just kept playing it over and over in my head.
Somehow my husband caught wind of just how bad things were getting inside my head. He stayed home from work one day when I was home by myself. I remember sitting down in the kids’ playroom and completely losing it. I was sobbing. And he was there holding me. He told me I had two options: I could call my doctor or he would. I called. And he sat there and held my hand as I told her I needed help.
I won’t say that’s where it ended. As you’ve read in other posts, there was quite the rollercoaster of medication trials and therapists along with many more thoughts of ending it all to free my family from the burden of me.
The point of this post it to bring awareness to the fact that people with depression often feel like everyone in their lives would be better off without them. And while it’s not true to everyone in their lives, it’s true to them.
I read all of the tributes to this young mom and I cried for her. I know that pain. I know what it’s like to feel the weight of the world and to not seek help and to feel like too much of a burden. But I also know what it’s like to be on the other side. I’m so sad for her that she didn’t get there. I’m sad for her husband and children that have to go on without her. The pain was too much for her and I get that.
If nothing else, please read and reread the following sentence:
PEOPLE WITH DEPRESSION RARELY SEEK HELP FOR THEMSELVES.
It’s time to educate society on the signs of depression and how to help people get help. It’s time to stop looking away and leaving people to figure things out for themselves. Rather than turning your back, imagine what you would say on their tribute wall if they took their own life. Stop saying it’s so selfish when people take their own lives because staying here feels more selfish to them. They truly believe they are freeing their loved ones by leaving this world. If you truly care about someone and notice them starting to fall apart, take the time to help them get help.
Being a new mom is stressful enough. Being a new mom with postpartum depression is nearly impossible.
I’m not sure what would have happened that day if my husband didn’t stay home and force me to call my doctor to get help. I’m not sure what would have happened if he didn’t help me through the process of feeling better. I still trip and fall sometimes and he’s there to catch me. He’s the first to notice when I’m “off” and need some support. I also learned recently that he has been educating other new dads in the signs of postpartum anxiety and depression and I couldn’t be happier about that. We started off knowing nothing about it. And then I fell deeper and deeper. I’m so grateful that he learned about it and did something to help me through it. I hope his story helps other dads too. And I hope my story helps other new moms (and other people with depression not associated with postpartum) know that they are not alone and that it’s okay to get help.
Please feel free to share my story to spread awareness.