Archives for posts with tag: Zoloft

I thought the weight of my 6lb 12oz daughter could have crushed my chest. Literally, I felt the weight of the world was now on me. This tiny human with her entire world in my hands, and I wasn’t interested or up to the challenge. I changed my mind about being a mommy but it was too late. I was tired and just wanted to sleep.

They told me I would be in love her the instant I saw her and that simply wasn’t the case. I loved her but I didn’t feel the bond.

The next few weeks were filled with terror, tears and loneliness. Had my mother not been there to help me I’m really not sure how I would have even gotten out of bed. I couldn’t eat, and I certainly wasn’t sleeping.  I lay in my bed crying and cold for days. I felt despaired. I felt I had lost my husband. For so many years it had been us.  Now this little baby had thrown my world upside down.

The pressure on my chest didn’t seem to lift even when I wasn’t holding her. It seemed to be there 24/7 and I couldn’t breathe.

Mommy friends would ask to meet her but I couldn’t be seen by them. I felt alone and ashamed. After all, what kind of mother feels this way about their infant daughter? She was helpless and needy and crying. Everyone said it would get better someday. And it did.

She became my world, my sweet loving little angel that I thank God for everyday.

3 years later I got up the courage to have another baby. This time When they placed him on my chest I was elated. I DID love him and I COULD do this!

24 short hours passed and the depression hit like a ton of bricks. It came fast and furious.
How could I handle two children?? Bella needs me so Tom will have to take are of the baby. I don’t have time for him, I would think.

Once again I couldn’t eat or sleep and spent my days crying. Holding Bella in my arms rocking her like a baby.

I found myself at the doctors office after 2 weeks of this. As the doctor wrote my prescription for Valium she placed her hand on my knee. I looked at her through my red swollen eyes and she said “Are you going to be alone with the baby? Is there someone who can watch him for you?”
I knew then that she felt I might harm my child and I will never forget that moment. I felt like a monster.

Slowly time began to heal my anxiety. I slept a little more, ate a little more and life moved forward. With the help of Zoloft, Valium, a postpartum therapist and loving family unit eventually I pulled out of my very lonely dark place.

My beautiful angels are now 5 and 1 and I am the happiest mother I could ever dream to be. They are the most wonderful joys of my life. People ask me all the time if I’m going to have another baby, and I tell them the truth. I tell them about my postpartum depression because no one really talks about it. I tell them I won’t have another baby because I don’t believe my family can go though that pain again, I know I can’t.


I thank God everyday for those 2 little blessings and now when I feel their warm little bodies against mine I know I’m right where I should be. Home.



© kabils

All This Mental Health Business

It’s an interesting thing, mental health.

I’ve always felt like I’m on the fence. I straddle the place between happy, normal, sanity and that place just on the other side of sanity, which feels impatient and angry and frustrated with my kids for doing what normal 4.5 and 2.5 and almost .5 year olds do. I don’t like that place. And because in any given month I spend 3 weeks in the normal place and one in the quick-to-anger I watch myself act crazy, know its crazy and yet somehow can’t stop myself place. I have PPD postpartum depression, or really PMDD.

Really, it’s PMDD, but because Maggie is only 4 months old it’s exacerbated by the chaos of having a new baby.

Which is to say that once a month for a week I am uncharacteristically moody, short tempered with my kids, self conscious, and a wee bit neurotic. Okay, a wee bit EXTRA neurotic.

Two weeks ago I noticed a shift in my mood. It was subtle to those on the outside. It’s easy to hide when I feel like this. It’s not easy to hide from my husband. He’s a sharp one. Monday I felt extra bitchy. And bitchy would be fine, but taking it out on my kids by yelling at them is NOT fine. Tuesday I was also not fine. Wednesday was more of the same. Thursday morning I called my midwives and asked for Zoloft.

Oddly, it was not a big deal at all. It wasn’t a decision I agonized over. I felt no guilt about “needing help”. When I made the call I explained to the receptionist that I wasn’t feeling like myself. I wanted to talk to the midwives and see about some Zoloft. The receptionist asked me if I was with my kids. Did I feel okay to be with them? Was I thinking about hurting them or myself.

It’s protocol for her to ask. I’m not offended by the questions. I don’t think, “What mother could ever hurt her baby?” I only think “I’m glad I called right away. I’m glad I made this easy on myself. I’m glad it hasn’t gotten that far. I’m fortunate it’s never been that bad.”

And then I realized something. Something I know but often forget. It doesn’t have to be that bad to be worth fixing.

It never really even felt broken. It just felt like it could be better.

It’s starting to be better already.

From Emily’s blog: Tales of Fruit and Cake