Things I wished people knew about my postnatal depression, 3 years on by Via Tendon
Today is my first introductory session with a new therapist after a long break. She’s asked me about my motherhood journey. I tell her I had a baby in 2020 and suffered from post natal depression. As I was telling her the story, I started crying. I apologised and said “I actually haven't cried about this in a long time.”
I mean, it’s almost been 3 years.
3 years!
Can you believe it?
Let me take you back. I got pregnant in November 2019. In January 2020, we flew to Indonesia, my home. My huge family were excitedly scheduling their trips for when the baby arrives. So I left Indonesia saying, “see you in a few months, Mama.”
In March 2020, I started to feel my anxiety creep in as predictions of Australia closing their borders surfaced. But the optimist in me kept saying, “Surely they won’t close it?”, “If they do, they’ll make an exception, right?”, “I am definitely not going to have my first child without my family here because that’s just plain crazy!”
So we moved through our days, with hope. I attended appointments alone. I told my growing belly “I’m scared, but you and me - we got this”. We FaceTimed everyone, everyday.
We watched the days go by as my biggest fear came true. My due month is here. Australian borders are closed. Melbourne went into hard lockdown, with a 5k radius rule. My in laws are 10k away. Shit.
But life doesn’t stop, right? And I’m grateful it didn’t because we had our beautiful daughter on a gloomy Monday morning in Winter. It’s true when they say, you’ll never experience a love like that.
In all that magic, the image that has never left me is after our skin to skin, my husband said “do you want to call Mama and Daddy?” So he FaceTimed our families. That’s how they met our daughter, their first granddaughter. With tears rolling down. Both of joy and deep sadness. And I often relive that day.
Post natal depression was dark for me. I questioned my worthiness. I questioned my life decisions. I hated and resented my husband and our marriage. My body was physically in pain, and I know it was storing deep, deep, deep pain.
Fast forward to now. I am in a better place and I still carry all that with me. These are the things I wished people knew, but I don’t know how to tell them
Yes, I know it has almost been 3 years and 2 babies later. Things are different now and I wished I’ve gotten over it already. But, the sadness still finds me, no matter how much therapy and time has been involved.
Yes, I am the happy one. The one you never expected would ever get sad. And no, it wasn’t just the newborn fog. I wish it was. Instead, it was a dark storm that consumed me. For much more longer than I would’ve liked.
My kids are my world. It was never about them. It was me, thinking sometimes I’m broken, even though I know I’m not.
I’m still grieving. Grieving for the life I thought we would have but never had. I grieve for the loss time, the loss memories. I grieve for how I thought my daughter would experience the world for the first time. I grieve for the Mom I could’ve been. And I grieve for the wife I wasn’t.
I grapple between loving our journey and wishing we had a different one. Many have said because of what I’ve gone through, it makes me strong and resilient. And quite truthfully, I’d give that up for a different experience where we are held in love, not fear.
I know we’re all busy with our own lives. But, please check in and don’t be afraid to ask. Sometimes having space sends chills down my spine because space means I am alone and it takes me back to that dark place.
Thank you to those who have held us up, stayed loving and patient. It matters more than you will ever know.
I honestly have no idea what giving birth or being pregnant in a non-covid world looks like. So I don't know if post natal depression would’ve looked different and wore a different skirt. But mine was a shitstorm. To the other moms who have walked through this, I know we’re not alone, which is both the worst and best part.
I wished someone told me this a long time ago. So I hope this finds you, wherever you are.
You are not alone. I see you. I hear you. I feel you. I understand you. I am you.
And I know some days are harder. As time goes by, the intensity and frequency is less. But I also know that the pain will forever occupy a place in our lives. And yes it has brought us our children. It has rebirth us. It has also shattered us. And while we are still picking up the pieces. We are whole. We are worthy. We are loved.
Via Tendon is an American-born Indonesian living in Melbourne. She’s a Mama of 2, corporate leader, Yoga teacher, and founder of Metta Play. Metta Play makes bilingual yoga and affirmation cards. Her vision is to create tools that help empower tiny humans to become more aware, fierce and compassionate.
mettaplay.com
https://www.instagram.com/mettaplay/