Postpartum Anxiety Blues -
When my firstborn came into my world 21 years ago, he captured my heart in the way that babies do - utterly and completely. They don’t warn you in those baby books how fiercely you’re going to love your baby. They should include a chapter called “Walk through Fire? Oh Yes You Will!”. For me, that level of concern for my baby took a wildly unhealthy turn. I have seen it referred to as postpartum anxiety, and sometimes anxious symptoms are lumped under postpartum depression. I called it “the anxiety channel”.
My brain worked overtime conjuring up horrible things that could happen to this tiny, vulnerable little bundle that I was charged with protecting. It struck me how helpless my son looked in my arms, and the world I knew suddenly seemed fraught with danger. The endless loop of frightening scenarios played in my head all day, and all hours of the night when I was up feeding or soothing him. I left a tape in my VHS player (Yes, VHS. This was 21 years ago, people!!) that I could play in those dark nighttime hours. It was a comedy, and as soon as I nestled in to feed my son, I pushed the play button, and could distract myself with a few moments of laughter to drown out the anxiety channel. I could switch over to the comedy channel for brief moments of time. Unfortunately it seemed that every time I turned on the real tv, there was a news or talk show that dealt with another potential hazard to babies and children. I’ll never forget surfing the channels one day, and stumbling on a talkshow about sexual predators. I quickly changed the channel, only to find a segment featuring baby and child abduction. My worry started to expand - not just to my son as a baby, but my son as a toddler, then as a child, than as a teenager, and on and on. And I was robbed, by my own mind, of being in the moment with my new baby.
I tried to reach out to let other people know of my distress. My doctor, a parent, a friend - all of whom responded with “well, that sounds pretty normal.” It was NOT normal, but I guess you had to be inside my head to know that. I recall the blackest day - I had just put my baby down for a nap, and was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to shut out the thoughts. And I had that most awful thought - there is a way out of this. If it doesn’t stop, or gets worse, I can silence all thought. Ironically, just knowing there was an exit door made me relax. (Literal exit doors make me relax too - but I’ll go into that more when I talk about my troubles in theatres and restaurants.) I knew I was not ready for the suicide option - I had a baby who needed me, and I couldn’t abandon him. So I put my head down and made it through each day and tried to let some light into my world.
How I wish I could go back and talk to the “new mom” me. I would tell her to gather all the information she could find about anxiety. I would tell her to be a little more assertive with her doctor. I would tell her to journal out her fears - hold them up to the light, then shrink them down. I would tell her to reach out to friends - not to suffer alone in silence and put on that mask of “yep, yep, doing great over here”. I wish I had believed that people wouldn’t judge me if I told them the truth. And that many people know first hand about obsessive worry. I would tell “new mom me” that there are going to be some rough days ahead - stretches of real things to worry about, and then moments and hours of genuine joy in watching them grow up. And that life only comes at you one moment at a time, then one day at a time, and the majority of those days are just fine. And you will find others who are struggling and you will reach out to each other and get through.
I almost chose not to have another baby. I didn’t think I could go through that hell again, but I armed myself with postpartum info and gathered my courage. And I’m grateful to have my other “baby”, a beautiful 18 year old daughter.