Postpartum Anxiety: A Cautionary Tale

My postpartum sucked.

• I was filled with worry.

• I worried about putting my baby down.

• Was he getting enough milk?

• Would he die?

• Was his poop normal?

• Was I doing it right?

• Was I already causing him trauma?

• Why couldn’t I put him down?

• Why did he cry so much?

• Why did he want to nurse all the time?

• Why wouldn’t he sleep unless he was attached to me?

• Would I be forever trapped, catering to his needs day in and day out, for the rest of my existence?

Everything felt so big and so scary and so permanent.

I was obsessed with his sleep, his feeding, baby wraps, reading all the books, reading all the blogs, and engaging in mommy wars. And I was on a neverending quest to find the solution to all of my problems.

I couldn’t stand to be away from my baby and was agitated if anyone else wanted to hold him.

And I couldn’t stand to hear my baby cry. Which sucked because he cried every time I put him down. He hated the bouncy seat, the swing, the stroller, and anyone other than me, and I was exhausted and overwhelmed and scared and not enjoying any of it.

He hated the car and screamed like he was on fire in the car seat. If he happened to fall asleep, a stop of the car rekindled his screams, so I’d drive like a lunatic, avoiding potholes and red lights.

I was in a constant state of fight or flight and would lose my shit over every fucking thing – a dirty floor, pee on the toilet seat, a barking dog.

You get it.

I Googled “postpartum depression” a million times, but that wasn’t it.

I loved my baby beyond belief. I felt connected to him and consumed by him.

And I was envious of everyone else who seemed to be managing way better than me.

So I just figured this was it. I was a shitty mom and an angry wife and that was just how it was gonna be for me.

And no one – not my mom, not my partner, not my care provider, not my friends – no one knew how to help me.

Because they didn’t know I needed help.

Because I didn’t know I needed help.

All I knew was that this postpartum thing, this mothering thing, was not at all what I’d imagined it would be.

It. Sucked. So. Bad.

And this is how my marriage began to end.

My partner and I had no time together. I was too anxious to leave my baby alone, too anxious to be away from him, even when he was sleeping.

My needs weren’t being met, but I didn’t realize it. I couldn’t ask for what I needed because I didn’t know.

I resented my husband’s freedom to come and go. I resented his uninterrupted sleep, his naps on the couch, and his ability to sleep in on weekends. His ability to savor his meals, shower undisturbed, and spend uninterrupted time in the bathroom was infuriating. I resented him for depriving me of personal time, as he constantly interrupted me with his own needs and inquiries. I resented him because it felt as if his life remained unchanged, while I struggled to recognize myself.

And then he felt that his needs weren’t being met and then we both felt lonely and resentful and I would avoid spending time with him just to avoid conflict and then we just spiraled down and down into an abyss.

He didn’t see that I was drowning.

And instead of being sad and communicating my pain, I got angry.

And the anger built and built and built until I had dug myself into a hole so deep there was no climbing out of it.

I wish I’d known better so I could have done better. Not only for my marriage but, for my baby. And for me. The repercussions of those first years of struggle will haunt me until I die.

Oh, what I would do for a do-over.

I would have found a therapist who specialized in perinatal mental health.

I would have learned to set boundaries and to be a better communicator.

I would have prioritized self-care.

I would have asked more moms about their postpartum struggles.

I would have involved my partner more actively in parenting duties.

I would have gotten a prescription.

I would have taken better care of my health.

I would have eaten better.

I would have forced myself to take time off from meeting everyone else’s needs.

Sadly, it’s too late for me and for my baby, but it’s not too late for you and yours. Use my story as a cautionary tale. Seek help, even before you need it, prioritize self-care, and build a support team. Don't make the mistakes I made by thinking you have it all under control, or that you even have to. And please do not try to manage it all alone. By taking care of your own well-being and proactively addressing your postpartum struggles, you’ll have the knowledge and power you need to nurture your relationship and create a more harmonious and fulfilling family dynamic for yourself, your partner, and your children.

And if you're seeking support and guidance, I invite you to explore my program, "Anxiety-Free Postpartum," where I provide coaching to empower moms on their journey to overcome postpartum stress and anxiety and discover effective strategies for finding balance, self-care, and renewed joy in motherhood. Together, we can navigate this transformative phase with confidence and create a nurturing environment for you and your little one. Remember, you don't have to face it alone – help is available, and you deserve to enjoy this fleeting time in your baby’s life.