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In 2014, my son and I made it into the elementary school yearbook. There we were at his book fair, with him sporting a striped t-shirt and a proud, toothy grin that conveyed his delight over not just the chapter books he picked out, but also the cat poster he convinced me to buy. He looked adorable.
I, on the other hand, looked completely unlike myself. My usual wide smile was replaced by a forced, stretched expression as I hunched behind him, seemingly trying to disappear. But the most haunting feature of that photo was my eyes; they lacked any sparkle or warmth, resembling lifeless black marbles.
Just thinking about that moment fills me with a deep sense of sadness, pulling me back to a time of overwhelming pain that feels almost unbearable. I must remind myself that those days are behind me, a distant memory. I have learned what I need to do to maintain my well-being; my current life is far removed from that past. Back then, I made the regrettable decision to stop taking my antidepressants, a choice that continues to haunt me.
My descent into clinical depression began in January, coinciding with my sons starting the second half of their school year. My oldest was comfortably settled in 5th grade and my youngest was in second grade, and soon enough, I found myself struggling to keep it together as a mother.
One of the most challenging symptoms I faced was psychomotor retardation, which is characterized by slowed speech, reduced movement, and impaired cognitive function. However, just an eight-word description fails to capture the reality of my experience.
When people think of “decreased movement” related to major depression, they often picture someone who simply can’t get out of bed. For me, the issues were much deeper. My movements became rigid and mechanical, as if I were constructed from heavy materials. At times, I would feel “stuck,” unable to take the next step, as if my feet were glued to the ground. These moments could last just a few seconds or feel like an eternity, often forcing me to send my boys ahead to school while I slowly trudged home.
Cognitive impairment was another struggle, a term that sounds simple but encompassed severe issues with memory and focus. Helping my youngest with homework became a monumental task. I never thought I would struggle to assist him in writing a paragraph about puffins or even retrieving simple words. Basic math felt like an incomprehensible jumble, leaving him better off to tackle it alone.
“Slowed speech” is straightforward, but my struggles went beyond that. Parent-teacher conferences were particularly daunting. I would stumble over my words, desperately trying to keep up while mentally rehearsing what to say next, much like a nervous child counting down the paragraphs until it was their turn to read.
Years ago, I heard teachers discuss a student who was being homeschooled due to her depression, questioning how a child could “skip school because she was sad.” They didn’t understand the complexity of clinical depression; many mistakenly believe they do. If I had only experienced sadness, that would have been a relief. Instead, I faced a blend of sorrow, desperation, guilt, physical ailments, and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. These are not ideal traits for a mother.
When I ask my sons about those years, they recall me as “on the couch a lot,” but their memories are filled with playful stories about their teachers and classmates. I feel fortunate that both boys, now a high school sophomore and a college freshman, have thrived and experienced the joys of school life, while my memories of those years remain heavy.
If you’re interested in exploring the topic of family and parenting further, you might enjoy reading more from our other blog posts, such as this one. For those on a fertility journey, Make A Mom offers authoritative resources and support. An excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination is available here.
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- Understanding clinical depression in mothers
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In summary, dealing with clinical depression as a mother of young children is an arduous journey characterized by physical and emotional challenges. While the past may be filled with dark memories, the present holds the promise of healing and growth for both mother and children.
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