Five-year Postpartum Depression Survivor

My second son, Lucas, and me. Amazing how normal you look on the
outside when your head is a mess on the inside. 

I read an article in the Deseret News about a mother whose experience with mental illness led to her tragic death. It was a heartbreaking read and hit a little too close to home.

The article, "A family's faith and a mother's legacy shine through The Emily Effect" shares Emily Dyches experience with mental illness after the birth of her fifth child. According to the article, she had never experienced depression or anxiety with any of her other children. They believe it was triggered by a traumatic birthing experience.

The article describes Emily experiencing intense panic attack, that she compared to the feeling of trying to escape from a burning building. She and her family sought out medical help. Tragically, she was killed after becoming disoriented during a panic attack and running into traffic. In her memory, her family has created a charity called The Emily Effect, to help end the stigma around mental illness and get help for mothers dealing with depression and anxiety.

I read this article and found myself crying for Emily and angry with the lack of support for women who deal with any form of postpartum depression. 

Five years ago this month, I gave birth to my second child and began my own terrifying experience with postpartum depression. It began with the anxiety - I could not sleep and startled at the littlest noises. I was shaky and my heart beat too fast. I was overwhelmed with hopelessness and felt distant from everyone. It was like I wasn't even living in my own body. 

In my mind, my life was over. I cried and cried, knowing I was broken and would never be the same. My thoughts were not rational and turned to the worst case scenario in everything.

My doctor promised me I would get better. He promised these were common and normal experiences for women who dealt with postpartum depression. He promised that if it got too unbearable, he would check me in to the hospital and help me sleep. 

Lucas and I around the time I started to look back and see I was a little less depressed than the week before and the week before that. Still far from better, but making progress. 

I didn't believe him, but he was right. I slowly got better and saw the mental illness for what it was. I began to hear from other women who had similar experiences. My heart and mind healed and I try to reach out to others so they don't feel that same loneliness and fear that I felt. 

Although, to be completely honest, I am not completely healed. I feel heartache when my friends have new babies. First, because I know that is not happening for me anymore. Second, because many of them don't have to live through that trial. Its easy to become jealous, but then I have to count my blessings. There are a lot of life lessons learned from mental illness. I also have two healthy, handsome little boys to call my own. 

However, according to the director of Utah Maternal Health Collaborative, depression is the No. 1 complication of childbirth, but few mothers are screened for mood disorders. 

"Pretty much every parent I have ever worked with who had a NICU baby has some of the symptoms of PTSD, if not the full-blown diagnosis, and that includes fathers as well," Amy-Rose White, director of the Utah Maternal Health Collaborative, said in the article.

This quote also caused me some pain to read. While my postpartum depression became debilitating after my second child's birth, I believe it has its roots in the traumatic experience that followed my first son's birth.

Less than 24 hours after being released from the hospital, my newborn son's temperature rose to 101.5 degrees. We rushed him back to the hospital and spent the next 12 hours testing him and waiting results, before being readmitted to the hospital.

The most terrifying thing I have ever done was hand my little newborn over for a spinal tap. I believed he was going to die. We stayed in the hospital for 48 hours and were released. All was well and I moved on into "normal mom" life.

My eldest son, Soren, and me in our apartment in Rexburg, Idaho. 

In hindsight, I wish someone had recommended that I see a counselor after that trip back to the hospital. It is not something me or my family ever experienced before or would have realized could lead to PTSD. I especially wish my OBGYN, who knew I was already prone to depression, would have recommended it

It wasn't until my second son was born that a lot of those fears and trauma came back to me. I'm so grateful to my family care practitioner who did get me to a counselor and helped me find an antidepressant that brought relief.

If I could find every mother near me who is dealing with this, I would hug them and their babies and let them know they will be okay. I would listen to their heartaches and help any way I could. I would tell them over and over, that they will get through this. That someday, they will look back and realize they are themselves again. I wish there was more I could do.