How to Help Those Nasty Postpartum Blues

During your pregnancy, a cherished but often gut-wrenching nine months; family and strangers crawl out of the woodwork offering advice, mostly unsolicited. Hands caress and grab your gyrating stretch-marked abdomen. Everyone generously offers assistance, the last available bus seat, or even a welcomed foot massage for your, "swollen boats."

Pregnancy, birthing and child rearing books litter your tables, received as gifts at baby showers along with miniature pastel stretch outfits. You cringe, hearing tall tales from, "well meaning friends," sharing graphic details of their childbirth experiences. You experience nightmares, wondering if your baby in your pulsating uterus is an alien. You wake up covered in a cold sweat, praying you'll see a head with two arms and two legs when it's your baby's birth.

You attend child-birthing classes with your mate, joining a group of equally swollen-bellied women and their anxious mates. The day finally arrives when you experience your first contraction and realize you could do this, just a piece of cake. Contractions intensify along with your anxiety, wondering how much longer it would take before your baby's born. With a well packed bag of unnecessary necessities you're soon settled in your birthing bed, birthing pool or home bed birth, along with a few family members who join you to ride out the tidal wave birth process.

After agonizing hours you finally hold your beautiful miracle lovingly in your arms. All mothers share this initial moment, when you feel it's only you and your baby in the universe, and it feels right. You can't believe anyone else has experienced what you just went through giving birth to your baby, whether natural, induced or by cesarean section.

Your room fills with visitors bearing flowers and gifts and your phone rings off the hook the first few weeks with everyone offering good-hearted congratulations. Nothing makes you happier than showing off your, "Gerber baby," to cooing visitors.

Your guests will interrupt you and your sore bottom and abdomen, especially when you're just settling down attempting to get the hang of nursing a whimpering baby with a ravenous mouth. You make a decision on whether you'll grab the phone and let your breasts drip and stain your shirt, or let the answering machine pick up a message.

After months of being surrounded by caring people you suddenly find yourself all alone, just you and your baby. Baby gifts were all unwrapped and flowers are now shedding petals on your dusty coffee table. Most of the time your loyal mate, the person who has been there since conception and promised they'll share every experience with you, has suddenly abandoned ship.

You're entering the, "six week postpartum blues zone," where everything and anything can and will go wrong. I use, six weeks as an example; because some mothers will breeze right through, and others will feel walls are crashing in on them for months and months.

Living in this, warped postpartum zone, you'll feel utterly alone. You may feel you keep making one big mistake after another as a new mother, and wonder if you'll ever adapt to having a baby in your life. You'll wonder if the hospital accidently handed you someone else's baby, and ask if someone sneaked in your home nursery and snatched your perfect, "Gerber baby," away while you catnapped. You can't believe the hospital threw you out right after they cut your baby's cord.

Baby books are written in a foreign language and who has time to browse through them for answers anyway? Friends and family can't help you because you haven't responded to your answering machine messages before your idiotic mate erased them all. And you may even loathe your mate, feel they're not pulling their share of the responsibility as a parent as promised, leaving you abandoned and alone at your time of need.

Your colicky baby won't stop squalling, dirty diapers are endless, your belly's still swollen and your breasts are full and leaking, and how can they dare ask, "When are we going to make love again?" You can barely stand to be touched. Your mother may comment, "Honey, we've all been there, done this. Don't worry it'll pass." You may scream at your poor mother, "What do you know? My baby's totally different?"

Mercifully, this, "six weeks postpartum blues," will eventually subside. Your, "Gerber baby," eventually returns when you settle into a routine and your jeans zip up without popping open. Don't bother worrying about your mates because they'll get used to take-out or microwave meals. And soon you'll even trust your own mother enough to baby-sit for a few hours while you go out and attempt to get to know your mate again. Adult communication soon returns, replacing guttural sounds and teary arguments.

I consider myself an expert on this subject because I traveled through this, "warp zone postpartum blues," three times, and somehow managed to maintain a diary about my insanity. Every child's birth, the, "warp zone postpartum blues," returned in various degrees as my bi-polar postpartum personality resurfaced.

The following excerpt towards the end of one postpartum episode hopefully will offer you a tongue in cheek understanding of what you will or have experienced.

"Six weeks later I'm finally fitting into my jeans. I can zip them without laying flat on my back holding my breath and turning blue as I hold my quivering abdominal jelly muscles in, struggling to inch the zipper up without pinching my skin. My son's settled into a normal sleeping night routine and I can finally shut one eye. The house looks slightly unorganized, not exactly, "Martha Stewart," presentable, but I learned how to slam doors and threaten anyone who dares to approach my closets. And my gynecologist's given me a green light. This parenting stuff's real easy. I think I got it under control, might even try for that second child. But last night my husband acted so grumpy, just rolled away and snored. He had the nerve to say, "I'm tired tonight babe, catch me again next week."

For mothers who continue having difficulty with postpartum depression, please don't be afraid to ask for assistance. Speak to your doctor for medical assistance. Postpartum depression is considered a real medical diagnosis. Postpartum depression you shouldn't be ashamed of. Support via medical or therapy services might shorten the time you sit sobbing outside on your front doorstep while your baby's wailing inside in their swing.

Family and friends should continue to check on and support new mothers past the thrilling first weeks, or at least help pick up the dead flower petals. With internet services and electronics, sometimes mothers feel more isolated because they're unable to reach out or text someone because of the demands of motherhood. This is the time direct phone contact or personal visits are needed and will be welcomed. But this is not the time to ask the new mother to bake, cook, and serve you as a guest,

Nasty postpartum blues is nothing to feel ashamed of, especially when you feel like you'll never manage to keep your head above the surging postpartum, hormonal waves. New motherhood can be a terrifying experience. I'm a mother who believes all mothers should support each other and shout, "I've got your back in motherhood."

You can find further information about Postpartum Depression via the Mayo Clinic Website link below.
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/postpartum-depression/DS00546

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