I don’t believe that being a therapist means I have to have led the same lives as my clients. I believe our diversity is our greatest gift – showing us different ways to think, speak, behave, perceive, love, raise children, cope, struggle, and endure.
 
When I exited my graduate program, I had a few more months in the home I shared with a great friend. Within a short few months, I would find myself married, living with my husband for the first time, and jobless. It took me 8 months to find a job I felt confident in taking – let’s just say that therapists get taken advantage of quite a lot when they’re between graduation and licensure, but that’s a story for another time.
 
I pushed the time frame on kids constantly. First, I would tell myself to think about it when I was 27, then 28, 29… finally 30 approached and I had no more excuses. I had been married for 7 years. “Where are my grand-babies?” “When will you guys have children?” “What are you waiting for?” The endless song you hear when you get married, and then it starts again, “When are you having another, and another and another….” I digress. People mean well, even when all I could do was cling to my independence. I spent 6 years in post-secondary school, with limited money or financial independence, and I wanted to live my life. I did. For the most part I did. In hindsight, now with two children, boy could I have lived more! We just don’t know that when we’re in the growing pains of life and responsibility.
 
My first pregnancy I was sick until about 22 weeks in. Not to be too TMI, but I was throwing up daily and couldn’t keep a thing down except maybe a quesadilla from Taco Bell (which was just so random, so, so random). As much as family or friends would try to help me, they couldn’t. They just did not have any ability to make a huge difference in this major physical illness I was experiencing for months. Sign number one of feeling isolated.
I finally, finally got over the ‘morning’ (read: all day every day) sickness and then I was tired. So tired. I was just, unfortunately, not given a unicorn pregnancy. It wasn’t fun to hang out with friends anymore, I wasn’t able to do the things I wanted to do like exercising or muster up the energy to begin again.
 
Isolated once again. I was already feeling the effects of shame and guilt. Why couldn’t I just get up and exercise like other pregnant women? Couldn’t I do all of that for my baby, take care of us better? I was already failing.
 
Of course, now recognizing all of these symptoms – was it perinatal depression? I think it could’ve been. I didn’t have intense mood swings or suicidal thoughts. What I did feel was loneliness, a lack of understanding from those around me, and most of all feeling guilt that I wondered whether I made the right choices along the way.
 
I told myself I was fine. I was able to keep it all at bay enough. I enjoyed my talks with my OB, but now looking back, I wasn’t screened for any perinatal mood concerns. I think it’s more common amongst birthing people that during pregnancy they aren’t screened. 15-20% of women will experience a depression or anxiety episode during the perinatal phase. There was and is a need for screening and therapy in pregnancy, suffice it to say.
 
The real catalyst though was after birth. My son ended up with meconium aspiration which led to an infection, and I held him for a very short time before he entered into the NICU. Wow. We say it was the best worst experience ever. We luckily had wonderful, wonderful nurses around the clock, any time we arrived to be there with him. Watching your baby in an isolate, struggling to breath and get oxygen on the other hand… yikes.
I sat and cried by his side constantly. We are so grateful and lucky it was only 9 days as many parents experience longer stays and worse outcomes. I cried until the day he got discharged. I couldn’t spin it in any other way in my mind – I failed him. I want to cry as a I write this even; I logically know I didn’t, but emotionally it’s a struggle. More importantly, again, I wasn’t screened, I wasn’t offered any support, and well… the NICU didn’t even have a social worker.
 
When people ask how I came to perinatal and postpartum as my specialty – This is why. That one defining moment of realization that they didn’t have a social worker and my therapist mind was blown. What about people who aren’t therapists, looking at their babies and experiencing these emotions? Losing their babies and not knowing where to turn or look? I do not mean this blogpost to point blame, and instead I wish for us all to focus on what we can do to help each other and improve. This is my way of improving by focusing on this population. I hope that if you’ve reached the end of this post, I have touched on something, someone, somewhere in your life where you can help too. We all need it.
 
Be Well <3
 
Christina