Postpartum Psychosis

In celebration of our one year anniversary, we’re working to highlight other sites around the Internet that are Doing Good. Every Tuesday at noon (central time, yo), we’re bringing you a story of why someone else chooses to devote their time Doing Good.

You know our beginnings. Now it’s time to see theirs.

I’d like to introduce you to Lauren from #PPDChat and My Postpartum Voice. Lauren is yankee-turned-southerner-turned-yankee-again who is an absolute gem in the Postpartum Depression circle. I've had the pleasure of giving her a hug in real life and she's really just as amazing in person as she is on her Blog and Twitter. 

What she does with the weekly #PPDChat and all the other outreach to women suffering from antenatal and postpartum depression is just amazing. She is working, like we are, to give a voice to people who need help but are scared they are alone. She's changing lives and SAVING lives.

 But this is not my story to tell, it’s hers. Welcome to The Band, Lauren!

As the warm water swirled around me, I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of our small bathtub.

“Why me?”

“What is this? Will I be okay? Will I ever go back to the hospital? Where are the moms who have survived this? I need them. I need to know I’m okay. I have to find them. I have to know this will fade and I will once again be me.”

Before I finished that bath in July of 2006, I knew I had to start a support group for Moms struggling with Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders. By January of 2007, I was holding my first meeting with a few attendees at a local non-profit for musicians in need of mental health support. The first meeting was beautiful and as they continued, I realized I needed the meetings as much as the attendees.

By April of 2007 I was unexpectedly pregnant. Curling up in bed after the positive test (during which I almost knocked the cup of pee into the sink - DOH!), I grabbed a copy of Karen Kleiman’s “What Am I Thinking: Having a Baby After Postpartum Depression.” In the first chapter, Karen points out she worries more about moms facing pregnancy after Postpartum Depression NOT Scared out of their wits. Score one because I was scared out of my mind. Then she went on to suggest a “reframing” of the pregnancy if unexpected. It was here when Blogging entered my mind.

I knew of Katherine Stone at the time. Why couldn’t I blog my journey? Allow it to be out there for other moms to read and know they could make it? Or what to do if they faltered? So my blog, Unexpected Blessing, began. It’s now My Postpartum Voice but has also been Sharing the Journey just after my son was born.

With a lot of support and an outlet to share, my pregnancy went well and my postpartum, given my dedication to advocacy and planning for ME instead of baby, I thrived and did not experience Postpartum Depression after the birth of my son. Statistically, I should have. But I planned and cushioned space for myself.

When my blog turned 3, I started #PPDChat. Casually involved on Twitter, I noticed “Twitter Parties” for brands and products. Why not talk about Postpartum Mood Disorders that way too? Why not drag Stigma screaming and kicking out of the closet and create sunlight with which to destroy it? I emailed a few people, kicked around ideas and garnered support. The first chat had a few attendees, the evening chat even more.

A year and a half later and we now have anywhere from 15-40 moms at each chat, reach thousands of people, and have grown to include women and families from the United States, Canada, Japan, Australia, The Netherlands, and beyond. The hashtag is available 24/7 and with our global involvement, SOMEONE is always awake and ready to dive right in with a struggling parent. We have moms, dads, and loved ones who have used the chat. There’s even a sister who used the chat and through connecting with us, was able to locate a therapist 5 minutes away from her struggling sister. We’ve saved lives.

Most amazing of all though is that, for the most part, we’ve managed to avoid any hatred or judgment within the hashtag. The community of involved moms respect and love each other. No one has jumped in and started bashing us. It truly is a community full of love and waiting to reach out and embrace any parent struggling with Postpartum Mood & Anxiety issues. And that, is a beautiful thing.

If anyone ever doubts the power of Social Media, just point them over to #ppdchat. All doubt will be removed, replaced with awe and love.

When I launched Band Back Together in September, I was a mommy blogger. Like the name or not, when you start a site called Mommy Wants Vodka, that's the niche. I'd come across other sites that did Good Things, but not many. Turns out, running a Do Good Site is a lot of work. But the rewards, they're even greater than anything I've ever done for Mommy Wants Vodka.

To celebrate our one year anniversary, we're going to work to highlight other sites around the Internet that are Doing Good. Every Tuesday at noon (central time, yo), we're going to bring you a story of why someone else chooses to devote their time Doing Good.

You know our beginnings. Now it's time to see theirs.

For our inaugural post, I'd like to welcome someone who is a dear friend of mine, Katherine Stone, from Postpartum Progress.

I started it after I recovered from my own devastating bout with postpartum OCD, with the thought that maybe I could help someone else. I had no idea that seven years later I’d still be writing about perinatal mood and anxiety disorders, and actually be heading up a national nonprofit advocating for women who postpartum depression. My only hope was that I’d somehow be a helpful voice for other women who were just like me. I just couldn’t stand the idea of women feeling alone and ashamed with nowhere to turn.

As everyone on Band Back Together knows, having someone who has been through the same thing you have acknowledge and validate your feelings and offer you support can make an enormous difference in your life. Nothing – not a doctor, or a supportive friend – can take the place of talking to a person who REALLY gets it because they’ve been right where you are, too. They know exactly how you feel.

That’s the purpose of my blog Postpartum Progress. We are made up of a group of “Warrior Moms” who’ve survived perinatal mood and anxiety disorders and moms who are currently suffering during pregnancy or in the first year or so after delivering babies. We know PPD. We know the guilt, and the shame, and the fear and the confusion and the questions. Oh the questions! There are so many questions and concerns that women have, and they aren’t answered at most nameless, faceless static health websites. That’s why we exist.

If you are suffering, I want you to know a few things:

1. You are not alone. You have the most common complication of childbirth and are one of hundreds of thousands of women (yes, I said hundreds of thousands) who are going through the same thing.


2. You didn’t do anything to deserve this. You didn’t cause it. It’s not a sign that you have a defect of character or are a bad mom. It’s not a sign that if you’d only work harder to be a better (mother/wife/friend/exerciser/worker/prayer/whatever) you’d be okay. It’s an illness. A real and serious illness that requires professional treatment.


3. The best thing you can do for yourself is to get help. Getting help is a gift to both you and your baby, NOT a sign of weakness. By reaching out during this scary time, you are displaying your strength and your courage under fire.


4. You will be better. You will get back to your old self. You will be able to handle and enjoy motherhood and your baby will love you. In the meantime, Postpartum Progress has got your back.

We talk about the common feelings and worries of women with PPD, from anger and rage postpartum, to dealing with setbacks to handling the guilt of breastfeeding problems, to horrifying intrusive thoughts, and having more children after PPD. There’s so much to deal with when you are a pregnant or new mom going through these very real and very serious illnesses, and we want you to have as much support as possible.

My focus now, while continuing to maintain and expand the blog and our other projects like Daily Hope, is to raise funds through our nonprofit to create more and better services for moms. While nearly one million women suffer each year, only 15% of them ever receive professional treatment. That is a very serious public health problem that cries out for more awareness among both consumers and healthcare providers. We hope to fix this, and fast.

The future health of our nation’s families depends upon it.

If you are a parent and you're struggling with abusing a child, please call Parents Anonymous, an anonymous volunteer-staffed hotline for tips on how to handle the stress of parenthood: 1-800-352-0528

Or visit our Preventing Child Abuse Resource Page.

and hated.

i could talk in 3rd person all damned day but the truth was, i was scared to admit my conflicting feelings about my firstborn. i was scared that if i admitted my feelings, they'd take him away. i didn't know who "they" were, i just didn't want him taken from me.

it took almost seven years before i admitted defeat, and another five for healing and change. change that took place only because of the love and saving grace of Jesus Christ.

it is time i tell this story. to give it voice.

only when we stop hiding out of fear or shame can we be healed and free.

the first six weeks

i ignored the advice to "sleep whenever possible."

instead, i just stared at the beautiful creature lying in my lap while he slept. my ex pushed me to nurse him, but i couldn't get the hang of it, which made me feel a natural screw-up.

after a month, we moved the baby's crib into his room. i woke up every time he sighed. i got longer periods of sleep, but it wasn't enough. one day, the ex went for a motorcycle ride. as soon as he pulled out of the parking lot, the baby started crying.

and wouldn't stop.

i thought i was a bad mom if i didn't soothe my child, so i walked, i rocked, i talked, i sang, to no avail. i didn't know anybody in the building to ask for help and i wasn't allowed to drive on post. i thought maybe fresh air would do us both good.

i stepped onto the balcony. all i could picture was dropping him and watching his head splat like a pumpkin four stories below. i did NOT want that to happen, but the images came anyway. i called a friend who told me to put a dry diaper on the baby and put him in his room with the door shut. i turned on loud music in the living room and shut the hallway door. i loaded the dishwasher and the washing machine and sat in my kitchen and cried.

i cried because i was a bad mother.

i cried because i was afraid to tell anybody about my vision. yet i HAD to tell somebody because WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?!? i cried because my parents were across the sea and couldn't help. i cried because my husband (now-the-ex) made me feel inadequate.

i couldn't do anything right.

my friend showed up. she hugged me and asked what was wrong. she checked on the baby who was sound asleep. my ex got home a few minutes later and asked if i was crazy which made me cry harder. my friend chewed his ass out before telling me to call my ob/gyn about the crying and the vision.

a few days later, the ex took me over to see al and peg - my pregnancy buddy - who were on their fourth child. she took one look at my face and told her eldest to take my baby for a walk so we could talk.

are you still crying? yes.

are you sleeping? not very well.

do you sleep when the baby sleeps? no, there are too many chores to do. she stopped the questions long enough to glare at the ex.

she said, "you need to call the doctor. tell him what's going on."

"ok," i said. "i will." she looked at me kinda funny and changed the subject.

monday morning, i got a call from my doctor.

peg, God Bless Her, had left him a message about me and he wanted to see me immediately. once I was in his office, he told me not to nag my husband and to "sleep when the baby slept." he told me i had a typical case of postpartum depression and wrote me a prescription for an anti-depressant.

everything was getting better.

The first year

i returned to work while my ex was deployed, which meant i was a single mom for awhile. i liked it. i put him in his bouncy seat and talked to him while cooking, doing the dishes, the laundry, and while i showered. he'd fall asleep in my arms or on my chest and i'd put him in the crib.

i felt more confident in my parenting, like i wasn't a bad mother after all.

two days after returning from his deployment, my ex was in a motorcycle accident. that accident sent us from our overseas base to Walter Reed Army Medical Center. multiple head traumas, multiple breaks and fractures.

we brought the baby. at first, he was such a good sweet, quiet boy. he sat in his carrier and we'd talk to him or walk him around. the nurses always made a fuss over him. i dreaded going home to the billeting.

i didn't have a cell phone and needed a phone card (which we couldn't afford) to make long distance calls. i had no family nearby, no friends. i didn't know he couldn't sleep until he'd cried a few minutes. so i tried harder to soothe him. he cried harder. for HOURS. eventually, i'd end up screaming in his precious little face that i hated him.

and i'd leave the room. a few minutes later he'd be asleep. i didn't think to ask for help. i thought i was just a bad mom who couldn't get her baby to sleep. this continued every night until he was eight months old.

we returned to the base overseas, assuming the ex would soon be deployed. i was on active duty and not allowed to drive on post so i couldn't visit my friends on the other side of the base. i was allowed to drive the baby to and from the daycare, the clinic and the commissary.

at work, i was a miserable pain in the ass. i'd been gone from the shop over a year and i didn't know how to do anything. i could do it in my head but my hands couldn't recall the motions to remove a stuck screw or replace a rivet. i didn't have the confidence to do anything at work other than raise hell.

i soon made friends with jamie, who lived on my floor in the apartment building. sometimes,  jamie watched the baby so i could go to the shop functions. she was the one who discovered that he just needed to cry a few minutes and he'd fall asleep.

the neighbors heard me screaming "i hate you" at the baby in frustration and nobody did anything. i was trapped. i couldn't call metal health and say, "sometimes i scream in my baby's face 'i hate him,' is there a pill for that?" 'they' would have taken him away and my career would have been jeopardized. see, in the military, you don't go to mental health. you shut up and deal with your issues.

for example, if you are a single parent with a sick kid, you may be a 5-star on your Enlisted Performance Report but your absences could drop you down to a 4. that difference is the difference between pay grades.

we'd left the ex at Walter Reed in January and he didn't find out his fate until September. he came back to the base and stayed at home with the baby.

he'd thump the baby on the forehead and telling him to close his eyes and go to sleep until the baby fell asleep. at five years old, you could still tell our child, "close your eyes, go to sleep," and he would.

by late December we found out we had orders for a stateside base. i was determined that we'd have the perfect little family.

oh naive little me.