Suzie's Story starts here.
Finally, we're admitted -- all four kids and our huge stroller -- into a room smaller than my utility room. Before long the pediatrician comes in, "Oh my, you brought them all," he says as he scans the room. "Yes," I say politely. (Surely he knows that if I had a choice I would not be here alone. I do not have a nanny, and my husband already used all of his free days when I was in the hospital for three weeks before they were born.) The twins are still screaming and don't enjoy the exam in the very least. The shots come and thankfully a nurse comes in for back up. She holds one while I try to comfort the other. Unfortunately, there is no back up for my other two children, who are sure their brothers are being tortured.
We somehow make it back to the car where I promptly call my husband on my cell phone and inform him in no uncertain terms, "I will NEVER take all four of them to the doctor alone again. You can't imagine how hard it was." To which he lovingly replies, "Okay honey, we'll work something out."
But of course, for reasons that neither he nor I could avoid, I did, many times. And for the first nine months of my twins' lives, every day began as this day and ended with me emotionally and physically drained. Finally at nine months they slept through the night; at fourteen months they walked. Each of these events proved to be huge milestones and made my life considerably easier. Yet, until they were about 18 months old, I still felt as though all my emotional reserves had been depleted. The weariness of everyday life had taken its toll and I no longer felt the joy I used to feel as a mother.
I was suffering from Postpartum Depression.
PPD does not mean you don't love your children. I couldn't have loved my four children more. I loved to hold them; I loved to read to them, I loved each of them intensely. It doesn't mean that you're not a good mother. I was a great mom. My children were very well cared for. I was room mom for my son's class. I was intent on making sure my older children were not "lost" in all of the needs of the babies. I still worked from home. I still cleaned and cooked. There are cases where the PPD is so severe that it interferes with these daily tasks, but for me I appeared quite normal. In fact, in reality I was so good at being a good mom that no one, not even my husband, had any idea of just how badly I felt.
Postpartum Depression happens to the best of mothers. If you are feeling like you are suffering from PPD, don't accept the lie that you are not a good mother, or that you will never feel better again. You can get to the other side, you can get back to the point where a day isn't so overwhelming and where you are excited to face a new day.
Suzie Chafin is a Dallas, Texas mom of four children, including identical twin boys. She writes and lectures about family topics such as postpartum depression, managing multiples and Christian parenting.
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