My Journey With Maternal Mental Illness-Part 2

When the psychiatrist told me I was able to be discharged from the hospital a day early, I was ecstatic. I couldn’t wait to hug my husband, my kids, heck even my dogs (and I don’t even like them!) and I couldn’t wait to shower in my shower and sleep in my own bed. As I walked out of the hospital and into the fresh summer air, I was so overwhelmed with emotion. I felt a sense of strength, like I could take on the world and thought that this stay was a cure to my illness. But it didn’t take long for the reality and normalcy of life to settle in and for me to realize, I was in an even worse spot than before I was in the hospital.

I returned to work only 3 days after being discharged (against the advisement of the social worker and my therapist) because I thought I could handle it and I was wrong. I was in such a delicate state that I wish I would’ve listened and took the whole week off like they wanted me too. The higher dosage of my meds was also kicking in and my body was not adjusting well to it. Over the course of the next couple months, I became like a zombie. I just went through the motions of every day life with a numbness that only got worse.

Unfortunately, my husband was on the receiving end of my numbness. I was angry, mean and always looking for ways to lash out at him because I couldn’t explain in words what my depression, anxiety or OCD was doing to me. I didn’t know what was going on with me. I couldn’t understand how I was still struggling after so long. I thought about suicide almost daily because it seemed like the only way I wouldn’t suffer anymore. I was tired of suffering and my husband could see it, he knew it. He always reminded me, almost daily, how much he loved me, how much I meant to him and how strong he knew I was and I could beat this.

The turning point for me was when my husband and I were sitting on the couch and he told me that he believed the medicine I was on was a big part of why I was feeling the way I was. Hearing him say he missed his wife and the woman he fell in love with, broke my heart. I knew deep down that this wasn’t me. I knew it was my postpartum illnesses but I also knew the medication wasn’t helping me. Shortly after that night, I spoke with my doctor and we began the process of weaning. Weaning off of the medication was the worst. For over 2 months, I experienced nausea, dizziness, headaches, shaking, brain zaps (it’s exactly what it sounds like) and sometimes vomiting. At times, it felt like the life was being sucked right out of me. But I kept pushing through it with the encouragement of my husband, doctor and therapist, my closest friends and a local postpartum depression support group I had found.

Now as I sit here on my 2nd wedding anniversary, 10 months after my hospital stay and 1 whole year of struggling with postpartum depression/anxiety/OCD, I can finally say I am at peace. They say the first year of marriage is the hardest but let me tell you, our second year, was hell. Of course we had some good times but overall, I hope we never repeat it. I can’t tell you how many times I didn’t even think we were going to last. But he never gave up, never stopped praying and never stopped relying on God when it came to me, us or our family. He is the strongest man I have ever known and I love him beyond measure. I thank God that we made it, because without his faith in Christ and his encouragement for me to find my way back to Christ, we wouldn’t have made it.

I can proudly and confidently say I made it through to the end of the longest, darkest tunnel and I survived. I am a survivor. Here is to new beginnings. <3