Anonymous asked: did you ever have any depression after having any of your boys or trouble bonding with them ? I'm really starting to feel that way and I feel like i'm the only one.
Each time we brought the boys home after birth I went through a rough patch. With Addi, I was so caught up in trying to take care of him (he was born early and had some health problems) that I don’t think I ever had time to sit down and take everything in. About three months after he was born, I was sitting in our bedroom, and I just started crying. Roy was at work, Corey was about 5 at the time and was in school, and Joe was only 3. Joe came into the room and sat with me, and I just held him while Addi slept. But gradually, the days seemed less stressful and things got better.
With Hayden, my pregnancy was fine, but the first night he came home, he just cried and cried. Honestly, in that moment, I felt like a failure! I had three older boys. Why couldn’t I comfort this little guy? I sat on the side of the bed and just cried. Roy woke up and tried to comfort him, and I just couldn’t stop crying. I worried that he was so little, that he wasn’t getting enough milk (I was nursing at the time), and yet I felt like a fool! I had already done this three times. But after my milk came in, and I started to see Hayden grow, my body started to heal. And things became as normal as they get in this house.
Dean was tough. For us it took a while to get pregnant, and for almost a year I beat myself up every month when I found out I wasn’t pregnant. I was sure I was too old, that it wasn’t meant to be, and I raged at my body because, for the first time in over 30 years, I thought it was letting me down in some way. And then, I was pregnant! I was thrilled, and then the real problems started. I didn’t gain weight for a few months, so I was sure something was wrong. I developed a horrible rash that took over my entire body, I got carpel tunnel syndrome in both my hands, etc. etc. and on and on. But on January 5th, 2008, in the early hours of the morning, my water broke. I delivered, Dean, a healthy, happy little boy later that evening. And that first night at home, it was much of the same for me. My milk hadn’t come in when we took Dean home, and he cried. It isn’t the ‘right’ thing to do, but I was exhausted, so I laid down with Dean propped on my chest, and he slept for a few hours. So did I. And once again, it took some time, but things returned to what we consider normal.
Hormones do crazy things to us women, and a new baby (no matter how many you have) always lets the doubts slip in. You wonder if you can do it all. You wonder if you have enough love. You wonder if you will be a good mom. Postpartum depression is real, and it is NOTHING to be ashamed of. It doesn’t make us less of a mom to have doubts about our ability, and it doesn’t make us weak to ask for help if we need it.
I think things are harder for me now, in a way. My oldest son will be a senior in high school, and we have another one going into his second year of high school. Addi will be in seventh grade, and Hayden in second. Dean is still home with me, but every day he does something to remind me that he isn’t the tiny baby I used to hold on my chest at night as the sun came up.
We do the best we can, and sometimes I think we all feel like our best isn’t quite good enough. When I have days like that, and I do, I talk to my husband or a friend. Sometimes I even write about it here, and it has taken me time to realize that having bad days doesn’t necessarily make me a bad mom.
