Piggysnoot

If hitting her would make her stop crying, I’d totally do it right now…because I just cannot stand to listen to her cry for one more second. That is the scariest thought that ever entered my head. That is the thought that crept into my mind two weeks ago. That is the moment that I realized I had felt this way before. That is the moment that I called my doctor to get help. Who wants to hit their three month old baby? For crying, no less. Who feels this way?

I was so proud of myself because I wasn’t one of them…you know…one of those moms that needed mental help. I wasn’t included in the statistics that say a majority of women suffer from postpartum depression after giving birth. Not me. Never needed help with depression before. In fact, I’m the caretaker. I take care of Larry. I take care of Nora. I try hard to take care of my friends and family. Certainly I didn’t need help. How arrogant of me. And how stupid that I didn’t speak up sooner about how I was feeling. It didn’t sneak up me. My feelings of hitting Nora to make her stop crying had seeped into my mind before…but I thought I could control them myself. After all, I control everything else so well.

I wasn’t going to hurt Nora. I wasn’t going to hit her. At least I wasn’t going to do that on purpose. I was able to stop myself from acting on my thoughts…but I didn’t like feeling that way. I didn’t want to feel that way. I also wasn’t sure how long I could keep pushing those thoughts out of my head. I couldn’t guarantee that I would walk away when the crying became too much. I didn’t trust that if I felt frustrated again I would handle her as gently as I should. I’m not a person that has a lot of patience, and the stress of things just became too much. I wasn’t enjoying my time with Nora. I wasn’t having fun being her Mommy. Everything was work. Feeding her…dressing her…playing with her…all of it just sucked. I’ve never felt so overwhelmed in my life. I had so many responsibilities with Larry being in jail…on top of working part time and taking care of Nora.

I remembered the nurse that ran our birth class telling us about PPD. I could clearly hear her say, “Girls, if you’re not feeling right you need to tell your doctor. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of women need help and you need to ask for it if you need it.” Those words ran through my head like a broken record for the few days leading up to my moment of clarity that Monday afternoon when I had to tell myself that hitting her would in no way make her stop crying. I kept thinking, I’ll call…I’ll get around to it one of these days. Larry must have been able to hear my feelings even though I didn’t voice them to him, because he encouraged me to call the nurse. Truthfully, I was going to call that day anyhow…but it was good of him to insist on it…he recognized the problem without my having to say a word. And honestly, he probably would’ve called for me had I tried to put it off.

My doctor called in a prescription for Zoloft within an hour of my call to the nurse, and I started it that day. That was eleven days ago. Even though it takes up to four weeks to take full effect, I notice myself feeling better already. I’m much calmer. Things don’t piss me off so much anymore. I don’t feel like I’m hanging on by a thread that’s about to break. The sky is clearer now. I’m not exhausted from stress. But the absolute best part? I love and appreciate my time with Nora. I have the patience to handle the crying. I can comfort her when she can’t fall asleep. I don’t even mind so much that she’s waking up in the middle of the night again. I snuggle and play with her because it’s fun and not because I have to. I am starting to feel like myself again, and I’m a better Mommy for it.