Back At It…

Back At It…

“the thing about writing is

i can’t tell if it’s healing

or destroying me”


– Rupi Kaur, “milk and honey”

The thing about telling your story, reliving your trauma, is before you reach the place of healing you must first wade through the darkness of your memories.

When I thought of the concept for “Real. Strong. Mama.” I knew I needed to be raw and vulnerable with you, the reader, to truly achieve what I set out for.  There is an aching in the hearts of mothers to feel seen and heard.  To believe that they are not the only ones struggling.  

I set out on this mission to tell every part of my struggle with motherhood, to not sugar coat any part of it, for that is what I so desperately needed in my early days and months of this journey.

However, in the telling of these stories I found myself brought back to the dark place in which they reside.  I felt the ache of postpartum, the struggle to fit into this new identity and the sting of loneliness run through my veins once more.  

For me the darkness is always right there in the periphery.  I always feel it, and while most of the time I choose to live in the light, it is easy for me to slip into that place.

So, my dearest reader, I took a break from writing and “Real. Strong. Mama.”.  I took the time to breathe, feel and understand the pain and the struggle that brought me here.

Each of us are on a unique journey.  What feels good one day, might hurt us the next day.  What heals us, may also bring us pain.  Vulnerability exposes us to criticism, for some may not understand your journey.  

However, I believe that vulnerability is the only way to truly connect to ourselves and others.

So, for you, I will continue.  I will tell my story.  I will relive the trauma.  I will feel the pain, in hope that it saves someone else from the heartache of not feeling seen.

I see you, every beautiful broken piece of you.

Because I am you. 

1 in 4

1 in 4

1 in 4.

That is the number of new moms that will experience symptoms of a postpartum mood disorder.  It was previously thought that postpartum mood disorders present themselves at some point during the first year of motherhood.  However, a new study by the National Institutes of Health suggests that 25% of women “experienced high levels of depressive symptoms at some point in the three years after giving birth.”

1 in 4 women.  Three years.

And, mamas, how many times did you receive postpartum care?  It is standard that new moms return for ONE postpartum visit, at six weeks.  Generally, beyond the six week mark it is up to your child’s pediatrician to conduct screenings for postpartum mood disorders up to six months postpartum.  

However, speaking as someone who fell between the cracks of the healthcare system – and given the new research that postpartum mood disorders can present themselves up to three years after giving birth – those few checks are simply not enough.

I always found it somewhat disturbing that as an expectant mother, you receive care monthly – and weekly as you approach full-term – but as a postpartum mother you only receive care at one predetermined appointment.  We spend so much time and energy caring for our babies, but when do we start caring for the mother?

The inherent issue with these infrequent postpartum checks, is that they assume that your symptoms have presented themselves by the time you are screened at the appointment.  But, what if you are like I was, and felt fine at the six week postpartum appointment?  

After the birth of my son, I experienced severe postpartum anxiety.  The sort of crippling anxiety that led me to near panic attacks if he was not within my reach.  It was heart racing, skin prickling, lightheadedness at the mere thought of leaving the safety of the bubble we had created at home.  

However, these symptoms did not peak until around eight weeks postpartum, so at my six week checkup when my doctor asked how I was doing, I quietly mustered up the words, “I’m doing fine”.  She took one look at me and said definitively that I was doing “much better than most other moms” she sees.  I vividly remember the shock and confusion I felt by her statement.  I couldn’t believe how easily I had been brushed off, all of my symptoms missed.  At that time, all I knew was that I didn’t feel like myself.  But when a medical professional assures you that you are okay, and that what you are feeling is all within the spectrum of normal, it causes you to second guess yourself.  Everyone was telling me that what I was feeling was to be expected.  That motherhood is an adjustment, or it’s just the baby blues, or you’re just exhausted – it will pass.  Except it didn’t pass.

It was a long six months before I began to receive the care that I needed.  I felt embarrassed that my adjustment to motherhood seemed to not be coming naturally to me, and that if I spoke up about my mental health and sought out help I was somehow less of a mother.  It wasn’t until a lactation consultant recognized in me what I already suspected – that what I was feeling were symptoms of a postpartum mood disorder, more specifically postpartum anxiety.  The moment that those words were spoken, I cried tears of relief.  I was finally being seen.  She assured me that, while what I was feeling was common, it is not “normal”.

So, then there is the issue of women experiencing depressive symptoms for up to three years after giving birth.  What if you are like me, and have more than one baby during that three year span?  When do prenatal mood disorders end, and postpartum mood disorders begin?  It’s hard to know if the depression that crept into my second pregnancy and postpartum period was new, or if the depression had always been lingering under the surface since my first postpartum experience with anxiety.  Given my history of postpartum anxiety, I was at a higher risk for prenatal and postpartum depression with my second baby.  Therefore, I received regular screenings at my prenatal appointments.  Every single time I took the screening, I was rated as being “moderately depressed”, yet was never offered any follow-up care for my symptoms.  I was told by my provider that if my symptoms remained steady that there was no reason for concern.  In other words, if I remained steadily depressed – but just a little bit – it was of no concern to them.  Once again, the system failed me, just as it has failed countless mothers.  

After the birth of my daughter, and amidst a raging pandemic, I returned for my postpartum checkup.  Due to concerns regarding the spread of COVID-19, I was required to verbalize my responses to the postpartum depression screening as opposed to writing them down privately.  As I tried to answer the questions as honestly as possible, I could feel the heat rising in my chest and hear the stutter in my voice.  I was filled with shame as I answered the questions that should have remained between myself and my doctor, yet I was oddly hopeful, so I pressed on.  

That hope that I felt, however, was fleeting.  I explained to my doctor that I wasn’t sure if how I was feeling was due to postpartum depression, or because of the fact that I had just given birth during a pandemic.  She quickly responded, “probably both”, and then continued on to give me some advice on how to combat postpartum depression.  However, the usual recommendations of support groups and to avoid isolation was in direct contradiction to the stay-at-home order we were under.  I left that appointment feeling defeated, as if I was drowning and there was no way out from under the water that was quickly rising.  

My experience is not a new one.  I am not the first mother to be disregarded, disrespected and brushed aside, and unfortunately I will not be the last.  Our system of caring for new mothers is flawed, and it is leaving us to fend for ourselves during a time that we should be supported the most.  We need to raise our voices and fight for a new standard of care – one that includes more postpartum visits taking place over the course of several years, and in an environment that is safe, nurturing and non-judgemental.  We as mothers also need to be aware of the symptoms of postpartum mood disorders, not only of depression or the “baby blues”.  Speak openly about your experiences, your feelings, to anyone who will listen.  You could be saving a life. We are not alone in this, and together we can break the stigma.  

I am 1 in 4, and this is my story.

Pandemic Prose

Pandemic Prose

Careless words pull my trigger 

Thoughtless actions heavy on my shoulders

Anxiety bubbles hot in my chest

While you go on living like nothing has changed

Thousands of lives lost

Mothers with no children

Brothers with no sisters

So far removed from you

There is no reason to care

A year has been wasted

Keeping your distance

Masking smiles

Life must go on 

No matter the cost

The burden is heavy

When it is yours to carry

But it’s hard to see

Through your tainted glasses

We will never return

The future is altered

Your actions now hold all the power

New Year, No Change

New Year, No Change

Hey mama, how are you holding up?  

This week marked yet another challenging week, in what has already been a heartbreakingly challenging year.  It has only been one week since we joyfully, and somewhat reluctantly, rang in the New Year.  After the insanity of 2020, we all were ready for a new start.  A rebirth of sorts.  However, if there is one thing to take away from this time, it is that everything and nothing can change in the blink of an eye.

On January 6th, we all sat back and watched in awe as the hatred and divisiveness of our country was once again thrust into the forefront of our minds.  It was like a scene out of a movie – thousands of angry rioters descended on our nation’s capitol in an attempt to overturn the results of a democratic election.

As I watched the news unfold with my toddler and baby in my arms, my heart broke into a million little pieces for them.  Just as it has broken, over and over, during the course of the last year.  Last March, as the coronavirus pandemic ravaged through our country, I felt a sense of relief that my daughter was a newborn and my son had just turned two.  The fact that they were so young gave me hope that they could continue on with life, relatively unaffected by our hushed voices and strained tones.  I could get away with brushing off the drastic changes in our day-to-day routine with a simple explanation and a quick distraction.  In June, when the Black Lives Matter movement hit a violent peak in our country, I cried in the silence of naptime and wondered how I would teach my son about his inherent privilege as a white male in America.  We read articles and bought books about systemic racism and white privilege, taking a sigh of relief knowing that it would be years before we truly had to have those difficult conversations.

However, this moment in history felt different than the others we had experienced over the past year.  As I looked at my toddler, he was visibly worried – his ignorance was a luxury of the past.  He sensed that something was wrong, and since he couldn’t fully understand what he was seeing and hearing, he looked to me for comfort.  In that moment I knew I owed him an explanation, as unprepared for it as I was.  How do you begin to explain civil unrest and “domestic terrorism” to a toddler?

I have had a few days to process what happened in Washington D.C., and I still don’t know if I said the “right” thing.  I have had to process my own sense of guilt for exposing my children to the images they saw on the screen, knowing now that numerous studies show that childhood exposure to news coverage of traumatic events can lead to anxiety and PTSD.  However, it is important that we allow ourselves grace in times of uncertainty.  Remind ourselves that, yes, these are unprecedented times and that we are all just figuring it out as we go.  Take time for yourself, engage in activities that bring you comfort, and allow yourself to feel every difficult and uncomfortable emotion.

Having spent the past several days working through my self-imposed feelings of guilt, my emotions have been scattered between anxiety, sadness and everything in between.  However, the overwhelming emotion of this week is anger.  I feel anger that one man has the power to incite so much hatred, and that that hatred was displayed so freely and without remorse.  I feel anger knowing that if those men and women had had a different skin color, we would be telling a much different ending to the story.  And I feel anger that we as parents are put in the position to explain these types of events to our littles, while still searching for an explanation ourselves.  

It doesn’t feel fair that our babies are living through such tumultuous times – times that are hard enough for most adults to cope with, let alone a toddler or young child.  However, I remain hopeful that as time passes and we retell these stories, that we can also rewrite our futures. Our children are watching and they hold the key – what we do now sets the tone for them.  Nothing changes unless you change it, and this year has forever changed us for better or worse.  Who you are today is not who you were yesterday, and not who you will be tomorrow. Choose your path, wipe the slate clean and breathe for today.  Just like this season of life, the leaves will fall and when this season is over, the sun will bring new life and a new hope for the future.

Welcome to The Club

Welcome to The Club

Motherhood is the club no one talks about, until you are part of it. Even then, it is spoken about in hushed voices and with nervous glances.  “Toxic positivity” has become somewhat of a buzzword, especially during our current pandemic landscape.  However, it has long been an issue and it makes struggling mothers feel as though this struggle, and speaking up about their hardships, is somehow wrong.  

In my experience, moms just want to be seen and heard.  Yes, it is hard.  No, you’re not doing it wrong.  However,society places mothers in this category of the silent caretaker – forsake your needs for the needs of others, no matter the cost. Do not complain, for you made this life for yourself.  No one wants to hear about your loneliness, depression, sleepless nights and anxiety – just keep those rosy Instagram posts coming.  The trend of “good vibes only” positivity starts to do us a disservice when we feel we can no longer present an authentic version of ourselves.  When we get the impression that to feel anything other than grateful is inherently bad.

“What a beautiful family”, they say.  “Wow, you’re glowing – you look so happy!”  And my personal favorite, “you are so lucky, children are a blessing”.  What would they say if they saw the truth behind the smile and perfectly curated exterior?  That moments before that photo you had been crying, and that moments later you would return to the person who you never said you would be.  You promised you would be the “cool mom”, but so many times you are seconds from the edge, only to barely pull yourself back in.  Staying in a life that feels like it is not yours is the ultimate form of self-sacrifice. 

Have you ever posted anything “real” about your life – the struggle instead of the happiness, the tears instead of the smile? Counted the amount of hearts or likes that post received and felt the sting of rejection from those in your life?  Or had the words “I am not okay” about to roll off your tongue, only to keep silent as to not burden another person with that responsibility? We as a society owe it to mothers to listen to their stories, without judgement or placing guilt.  No matter how uncomfortable the conversation, it is one that needs to be had.  We can not continue in silence, when we are the ones raising the next generation of leaders.  How can we raise kind humans, when we are not kind to ourselves? 

That kindness begins when we begin to speak our truth.  The emergence of social media has created the ideal of what motherhood should be, and it is a slap in the face to those of us who have suffered from postpartum mood disorders.  Toxic positivity runs rampant in those forums, as if there is some unspoken pact once you enter the club of motherhood.  Maybe there are some people who make the seamless transition to motherhood, and surely that should be celebrated.  However, there are many more of us who have struggled, cried and lost our identities, feeling like we are going crazy.  Feeling like an anomaly for having dark thoughts surrounding the gift of motherhood.  In silence we breed negativity.  In silence we are disillusioned into thinking that we are alone.  Your mind can be a dangerous place, if left to run the show.  Together let us raise the shroud of secrecy and shame, for in these times we still only have each other.  Speak your truth once and for all, no matter what form it takes.  It may begin as a whisper to yourself – an admission in the dark.  The more we are proud of our scars and our struggles, the louder that voice will become, until you come roaring into the light.