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I Never Imagined PPD Could Be So Dangerous, But It Nearly Took My Life
by Emily R.
Updated: Sep. 20, 2019
Originally Published: Sep. 20, 2019
Trigger warning: suicide, postpartum depression
Happy ten months, my little miracle. As we approach that “double digits” milestone, it’s hard to believe nearly a year has passed since I entered the hospital for my planned c-section. I remember checking in at the front desk just like it was an ordinary doctor’s appointment. Almost a year ago, I lay on that cold, sterile table and watched as my baby was gently lifted from my abdomen, while the medical team engaged in casual conversation with my partner. It’s been nearly a year since I first held you, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions: guilt, love, awe, and yes, even regret. Almost a year since we brought you home and I struggled to bond with you. Almost a year since your father had to lift me off the floor, night after night, assuring me it would get better. Almost a year since I realized the two-week mark had passed, signaling the end of the “baby blues.” Almost a year since I received countless messages saying how perfect you were, how in love I must be, and how chaotic motherhood could be, leaving me feeling like an imposter.
Almost a year since I first contemplated how peaceful it might be to just not be here anymore.
Writing this is incredibly challenging. A few nights ago, I expressed to my partner my desire to find a meaningful way to contribute to raising awareness about postpartum depression (PPD) and postpartum anxiety (PPA). He suggested I share my story on social media to help diminish the stigma surrounding these conditions. Though I hesitated to reveal such personal experiences, here I am. Despite the increasing attention on PPD and PPA in recent years, the judgmental whispers of “What kind of mother…?” still linger.
There isn’t “that kind of mother” — we all can be that kind of mother. Tragically, suicide is one of the leading causes of death among perinatal women.
I never thought I would be at risk; I wasn’t “that kind of mother.” I already had one child, and we navigated her infancy with ease. I exercised daily, had a strong marriage, meaningful friendships, and a supportive family. My career was fulfilling, we were comfortable, and I had even found a church that resonated with me. Our second baby was longed for, and the thought that he might enter a world filled with anything but a bit of sleep-deprived bliss never crossed my mind. But everything was different this time.
My son was a challenging baby. He suffered from silent reflux, slept little, and cried for hours. He refused to take a bottle and dealt with severe diaper rash. Despite his sweetness, I couldn’t understand why I struggled so much. I was fixated on being the perfect mother who could manage it all effortlessly. As time went on, I felt like an observer in my own life, trapped in shame and despair.
It was three weeks after his birth that dark thoughts first began to creep in. I imagined stepping into oncoming traffic, envisioned a crane collapsing above me, and mused about what harm a kitchen knife could inflict on my own body. During those desperate days, thoughts of death invaded my every moment. I knew I needed help or I wouldn’t be around for his first birthday. So, I finally confided in my partner and my sister, and sought help.
The journey to recovery wasn’t easy, but it was smoother than it could have been. Engaging in intense talk therapy and medication helped lift the fog sooner than expected. What made the most difference were the candid stories from other parents: One friend shared her battle with debilitating anxiety, which led her to take a leave from work. Another recounted her feelings of regret after bringing home her second child, believing she had ruined her family’s life. Yet another friend spoke about her experience with postpartum psychosis and her need for inpatient treatment. These were women I admired—brilliant, beautiful mothers who seemed to have it all, yet were suffering silently. I learned that it was okay to struggle. Whether it’s a couple of weeks of baby blues (affecting up to 80% of new mothers), a battle with PPA/PPD (impacting 10-20% of new mothers), or simply having a few tough days (which we all experience), there is no shame in it.
Some days remain challenging, but I’ve rediscovered the joy I thought I had lost forever. There isn’t “that kind of mother”—we are all that kind of mother. With one in seven women experiencing PPD and up to 17% facing PPA, these are serious medical conditions that often require treatment. Check in on the new (and not-so-new) moms in your life, and above all, withhold judgment; it’s the last thing they need. If you’re curious about home insemination, check out our post on this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination, or explore Make a Mom’s guides for more insights.
In conclusion, shedding light on postpartum experiences is crucial. We need to recognize that we are all in this together, and opening up about our struggles can pave the way for healing and understanding.
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