And so it began

It was easier to write and publish this when no one I knew was reading it. It was easier to hide it away and pretend it didn't happen to me. But something happened when I first published this on my blog two years ago. Women read it. And one after the other they commented about how much they needed to hear it, about how much it helped them, about how suddenly they didn't feel so alone any more. And that's what I want, because if someone had told me this story eight years ago it would have made a world of difference. I'm willing to risk the vulnerability of putting this out there again if it helps just one woman to understand something that I didn't, if it helps just one woman to feel less vulnerable, less afraid.

Postpartum depression is talked about; it's understood to a degree. But there is another type of postpartum mood disorder, one of many, a type that I never knew existed until Gates was almost six years old. This is a story, my story, of postpartum OCD. This isn't a story just for women, it's a story for every man who loves a woman as well. Because the thing about postpartum OCD is that we don't talk about it because we are scared, we need people in our lives to ask the tough questions, to see the signs when we can't see them ourselves, to love us through the pain and the darkness. This is my story.

Sometimes I wonder how time could pass so quickly without my notice. It seems like such a short time ago that I held Gates in my arms for the first time and yet it is so hard to remember how small he was, how helpless. But here he is, another year older, and I am remembering. Remembering and finally healing.

There is a common saying, turned into a commercial for baby products, which tells us "Having a baby changes everything." And it does. The sleepless nights, endless loads of tiny laundry, the inability to just head out the door with ease whenever you want, the worry over every cough, the endless debate over every decision because it now affects a third person in your life. The first real smile that melts your heart, the celebration of every milestone, big or small, the pride that fills your heart that this is YOUR child. Having a baby changes everything.

I was ready for change, ready for the responsibility, ready to be a mother to this tiny little being. I held him in my arms and I loved him. The first week wasn't easy. There was recovery from a traumatic birth experience, the struggle to nurse him, the fear that he might have to go back to the hospital, the suspicion that I might be sliding into postpartum depression.

But I could handle it. I was tough. Having a baby changes everything, I just needed to adjust.

I don't remember when it first happened, but I remember where I was. I was sitting on our couch by the window. Blue fabric couch, reclining ends, middle that folded down into a table so that I could sit there for hours just holding Gates, everything I needed right at hand. I was holding him, looking at him, marveling at his perfection, loving him. And then the thought hit. "What if I put him in the oven?" What?? Where did that come from? I'm not that kind of parent. I love this child; I would DIE for this child. "What if I put him in the oven?"

And so it began. The endless parade of thoughts that I couldn't stop, thoughts that horrified me, thoughts that made me feel so unclean I wanted to scrape them off my body like the sticky residue of unseen spiderwebs. Oven, microwave, knives. In my mind I pictured myself hurting my child in a multitude of ways. I stopped watching any show that involved victimization of children, it just added to the list of horrible things I might imagine myself doing to Gates. It made no sense. How could I be holding my child and loving him and at the same time be thinking these things? I begged God to take the thoughts away. I cried and I begged and the thoughts didn't stop. I couldn't understand it. Wasn't I supposed to be a good Christian mother? Was I really as evil as I felt? Had God turned his back on me?

Having a baby changed everything. If I was evil, I had to work doubly hard to hide it. When people asked how it was going I smiled and proclaimed how great motherhood was. I couldn't let them see the cracks, the doubts, the uncertainties because they might see though them to the part of me that was evil. I couldn't tell anyone about the thoughts; they'd declare me unfit and take away my baby. I couldn't tell my husband, what would he think of me? Would he reject me? I deserved to be rejected, or so I thought.

As Gates grew the thoughts slowly subsided, only manifesting themselves rarely and in other bizarre ways; but the effect remained. No matter how well I parented, I was a failure. I'd failed at the most basic aspects of motherhood, therefore I was a failure. Having a baby changed everything.

Fast forward several years. Major life changes, major stress. I was sinking back into deeper depression and there at the center, waiting to confront me was the part of me that was evil. And I had had enough; I couldn't continue living with the fear that the shell would crack open and what was inside would lash out and hurt the boys. So I finally gave up. I couldn't do it all on my own, I couldn't fix it and I needed help.

At my second counseling appointment I finally spoke the words I had been holding inside for all those years. Slowly, hesitantly the words trickled out of me, telling of the thoughts that wouldn't leave me alone. I told of how evil I felt. And then my counselor spoke the words that changed everything. "It sounds like obsessive thought patterns to me." I came home and started Googling. What I found changed everything.

I found that postpartum obsessive compulsive disorder is part of a whole spectrum of postpartum mood disorders and is estimated to affect 2-3% of new mothers. It is most likely under-reported, however, because of the shame it produces and the fear that our children will be taken away from us. Postpartum OCD is NOT the same thing as the more widely sensationalized postpartum psychosis. Women suffering from postpartum psychosis believe their thoughts are rational; women suffering from postpartum OCD know that their thoughts are not normal but are unable to get rid of them. Mothers with postpartum OCD rarely act on those thoughts, instead they typically (not always) develop any number of rituals in order to avoid them or avoid the possibility of acting on them. It can affect women with a previous history of mild OCD as well as women who have never had it before.

Do you want to know what grace feels like? Grace is taking your deepest, darkest secret, exposing it to the light of day and having it washed away with just a few words. Grace is finding out that even in those dark moments, when I didn't understand why he wasn't taking the thoughts away, God hadn't turned his back on me. Grace is knowing that although I am altogether human, I am NOT a monster.

I don't know the answer to 'why me?' Why did I get this disorder that changed the course of my early parenting years? I will probably never know. I know that it has taught me that secrets held too long leave their mark. I know that in some ways it did make me a better mother because fear gave me the desire to seek out parenting solutions that were gentle. I know it reaffirms the depths of love that my husband has for me, that when I finally told him he didn't turn away, he didn't reject me. I don't know all the answers, but I know the peace that comes from being finally set free.

If you'd like to know more about postpartum mood disorders, including postpartum OCD, you can find many great resources, support and links at Postpartum Progress.

For another mom's story as well as some more in-depth posts on the subject, please visit Angela at Becoming Me. I 'met' Angela after I posted my story and she shares the same heart to help women navigate the depths of postpartum mood disorders. Anything else I could post on the subject would simply be re-inventing what she has laid out with such grace and gentleness.


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