tap tap tap tap tap
“How old is your son, Mrs. Brown?”
She leaned forward in her chair as she looked across the giant oak desk, her large eyes fixed on me.
“Um.. he’s… he’s… he’s four weeks,” I said to the floor at my feet.
tap tap tap tap tap
“Okay,” she proceeded carefully. “And how long have you felt this way?”
“Well… b-b-b-before he was born I guess. The minute he was born. W-w-when he was born…”
When did I start to stutter?
She continued to look at me but I couldn’t focus on her. When I finally did look up, my eyes darted back and fourth, back and fourth, back and fourth from one side of the room to the other.
“I see. And how long have you been seeing Dr. R?” She was looking at her computer now, typing.
tap tap tap tap tap
“Um… um… w-w-well I guess for a few years now.” Back and fourth, back and fourth, back and fourth. The tapping became louder.
“I just don’t understand why they sent you to me.” She was muttering but I listened carefully. “Obviously,” she continued, “you need the doctor. You don’t need a therapist.”
tap tap tap tap tap
“Just look at you! Your poor thing. You can’t put a sentence together. You’re so anxious, you can’t hold still. You’ve been tapping your foot since you sat down.”
I looked down at my bouncing leg.
tap tap tap tap tap
“I told them it was an emergency…” I trailed off. There was no need in mentioning how I’d told the receptionist over the phone that I was two seconds from jumping off the freeway overpass.
“This is absurd,” she huffed. ” I can’t do anything for you. Dr. R needs to see you right away!” She picked up the telephone and dialed an extension.
Her voice was firm. “Yes, this patient needs to see the doctor right this instance.” Pause. “Then have him call in a prescription and she’ll come back to see him tomorrow morning! I can’t believe you sent her to me words words anxiety words words new baby words words history of depression words words words…”
I could feel her studying me as I stared blankly through a bookshelf to her left.
tap tap tap tap tap
“… I don’t care if you have to squeeze her in! She should have been back on these medications words words severe postpartum depression words words words…”
tap tap tap tap tap
“Okay, then. I’ll have her pick them up at the pharmacy.” Click.
She closed her eyes as she rubbed her forehead and let out a big sigh. “Dr. R’s nurse is squeezing you in for tomorrow morning. He’s calling the pharmacy down stairs so you can start up your medication tonight. I’m so sorry this happened.”
tap tap tap tap tap
I looked back down at my feet. “I’m supposed to go back to work next week, ” I said with a cracked voice.
Her shoulders dropped and her head tilted. She gave me a slight frown before saying, “Oh, honey. The doctor won’t let you go back to work feeling like this. With your postpartum depression this bad? He’ll give you a few more weeks, at least until the medication kicks in. I promise you’ll feel like yourself again soon.”
The tapping stopped.
I’d rather die than give you control.
***
(Lyrics from Nine Inch Nails “Head Like A Hole”)
Wow. This was beautifully written. Just wow. Im so sorry you had to go through something like this.
My wife had severe pod with my step daughter. Even though we weren’t together it kills me to think that I could help her.
Thanks for sharing.
Carri, this post gave me chills. And tears. I had no idea. None. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
(You write serious beautifully. Why have you been hiding this gift??)
I joke about how I was a hot mess when Blake was born, but that’s just a shield from the truth. I was very, very sick.
I’m afraid to do too much serious!
Glad you got help. My sis had PPD never diagnosed and it messed her up for years, she couldn’t bond with her baby, messed her up at work, etc. I wish you the best. I had it, too. Good luck.
I’m not surprised. The pediatricians make you feel like a piece of shit for wanting to stop BFing to go on medication. It’s disgusting. I hope she was able to push through the illness.
Wow. This was beautifully written. I’m so sorry you had to go through that though. I’m glad you got help and that you’re able to share your story here with us.
I wish I knew you all when I was going through this!!
Thank you for the honesty. I relate. You have a talent for dialogue! I wish you best.
Carrie, I agree with Alison, you wrote something so serious, so personal, so well. Becoming a mom is hard enough, but to have additional, life altering challenges?! I’m glad you got help, but sorry you had to go through it. Thanks for sharing a piece of you.
Beautifully written – I felt like I was in your shoes the whole time. I hope things have only gotten better for you since then.
ps – I can’t even imagine having to go back to work so soon after having a baby. I don’t think anyone is mentally ready for that so soon! You American mommies are incredible.
Ahhh. I have a post ready to go later on this week about PPD and my struggle with it. It will be the first time Im blogging about it. This is a beautiful post and really gave me the courage I need to not go back and delete it.
Allison is right–you write serious SO beautifully!!
GREAT! That’s what I want to hear. This is why I am finally publishing all of these thoughts. There are so many women out there suffering in silence!
I just love you. That is all. oxoxo
beautiful. I have a feeling i had ppd with all of the kids… but it wasn’t until the last two that I got help. This was just beautiful.
{{{{Hugs}}} Carri, I wish we lived closer.
I know… How fun would throwing darts at Obama’s face be?
I love the way you think (and write, for that matter!). I wish I could marshal my attention enough to blog. I have it inside of me, but I’m too scattered to gather it all up and put it into a cohesive package. I envy you that you can do this, and you do a wonderful job
Thank you.
It took a long time for me to be able to wrap my head around it and get it down on paper (screen?).
You’re a great writer, Carri.
Thank you
Oh my word. It burns me up that people can’t get the help they need without some run-around, especially with something this hard. So glad you got some help. Beautiful, haunting piece.
I did get the run-around from my son’s doctors and the “breastfeeding mafia”. They wanted me to stay off meds so I could continue to pump (I couldn’t BF… I was so neurotic). I should have been back on medication before I left the hospital.
Love your face right now.
So proud of you for having the courage to write this. It is so hard to relive those moments. You are going to help so many women. Friend.
Love you.
Thank you! It’s blogs like yours that have helped me build up the courage. I’m really hoping we can help people avoid what we went though. xo
((BEAR HUGS)) It takes an incredible amount of strength to reveal a weakness. You are an amazingly strong woman, and even though I don’t know you personally, I am proud of you, inspired by you, and love you for sharing this AND getting the help you needed. Thank you being transparent, especially in such a beautiful way. It’s a tough battle. But you can do it. We support you. We love you.
But look at you now! So sassy, I’d never guess.
This is beautifully written and painfully familiar. I am so sorry that you went through this. I am so sorry that so many of us moms go through similar experiences.
Thank you for sharing this because it honestly helps me to clearly see that I am not alone in what I have been feeling for far too long.
No, you aren’t alone. I wish I had been blogging while I was in the thick of it. It really would have helped me. There are so many great blogs out there about PPD that you should check out. One is http://www.makemommygosomethingsomething.com and another is http://www.farewellstranger.com
So well written and expressed. And that last line. Yes. Exactly, yes.
I don’t know why that song popped in my head, but it did. That is the perfect line.
I’m so sorry you went with this. Though your writing about it is perfection.
Thank you.
You wrote this just like it happened..I remember this so clearly..So sorry the dumb doctors were not on top of things with you, but you were smart enough to know what you needed. Love you. You did great as always.
Stupid doctors.
Carri, I’m so very sorry you had to go through this. I can only imagine how you must have felt! I’m glad you found the courage (once again) to write something so personal and I have no doubt that you will help someone with this post. Nothing but ((HUGS)) for you. And maybe a kick-ass martini!
Amazing, isn’t it?
When we look back and see what we have survived?
I remember those days, my days with PPD, and I wouldn’t wish them on my enemy.
I don’t want to say perfectly written: because it negates your suffering. I will say, You had me right there.
It is amazing that we survived. On one hand, I wish I were blogging while I was in the thick of it, but on the other hand I’m afraid it would have been too dark.
I’m so sorry you went through this Carri but I think it’s great that you are starting to write it down. You can help others.
That’s what I’m hoping.
This is written so very well. I felt transported to where you were, trapped and anxious inside yourself. I am so sorry you went through that, and I am so glad you are sharing it and letting others know they’re not alone out there. And good for that therapist for recognizing how much help you needed and doing her best to get you into the doctor right away.
I honestly believe there is a reason for everything, so I have decided to share what I’ve been through in hopes it will help other people. Thank you for your kind words.
First, very brave post to share. I think I had heard you mention about PPD before, but I didn’t know much more about your story. You never know who a post might help. I’m glad that this person insisted that you get the help you needed right away and didn’t let you slip through the cracks.
OH MY GOD
That was amazing. At the end I realized I was holding my breath.
You captured the feelings of helplessness, anxiety, panic, and fear perfectly.
I was right there with you.
It’s almost painful to read because I know these feelings so very well.
Brilliant writing my friend.
Thank you. That means a lot coming from you. xo
New follower here, and reading your post threw me back a couple of years, when I was sitting in a psychiatrists office (at a center that also specializes in child abuse awareness…how F’ed up is that? Totally made me feel like crap) having a similar conversation with a totally different outcome. Two years have passed, I’ve weaned of Zoloft, and now feel like a shell of myself. But damnit if I’m not determined to find that person again, thanks to the help of expensive therapy. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this, but am grateful that you got help, that the therapist recognized where you were and could be your advocate.
Lucky for me (or unlucky, depending on which way you look at it) I was diagnosed with GAD when I was 21. So, I know what my triggers are and I know exactly when I’ve gotten to “that point”. It’s a lot of work, but it’s so worth it. Stick with the therapy, as it’s worth every dime.
I will definitely stick with therapy…even though I haven’t been able to get an appt since my therapist went on vacation a month ago. How are you doing now that you’re back on meds? I hope better…
Great post Carri & a brave one too!
I’m terrified of PPD, TERRIFIED.
Glad you got help as soon as you did.
You know the signs because you’ve read about them. I really hope you don’t experience them but if you do, you know you have a large group of us to lean on! And trust me, I’ll be grinding you to get to the doctor!
I’m just so very proud of you for this. You made me feel as though I was living this moment with you. So real I got choked up. I don’t choke up. Nice going.
Thank you. You must not have read the one I did last week called “Confusion”. That was a mind freak. Feel better soon! xo
Carri, I’m totally late but WAY TO GO.
I’m giving you a standing O and high fiving you and wrapping you in the biggest hug you can imagine.
Seriously, my friend. WAY TO GO.
So proud of you.
Very chilling account of PPD and depression/anxiety in general.
My PPD hit much later than yours and peaked at around 7 months. But I also have a history of depression and your last sentence summed it up so well – I NEVER want to let it take control of me again.
I also have that history which is why I got in there so quickly. I knew I would have it.
Love the way you wrote this. So glad that therapist didn’t just shrug her shoulders and say, “Oh well.”
My wife has a history of chronic depression.
And when we lost a little girl at birth, the grief mixed with PPD and regular chronic depression, plus all that “empty arms syndrome” stuff and she cracked.
Spent about a year in bed. Fun times.