Sometimes I look over at TD, my oldest child of the three girls and I feel a deep, internal pain. Like someone has sliced my heart in two and I’m left grasping at wispy pieces that have floated into the ether to a place I can never have back.
I’m talking about her babyhood. That first year of her life and how I sometimes feel I missed it. That it was robbed from me by the funk of my post partum depression. All that sadness, the sticky, black feelings that glopped up inside me telling me to live in my crawl space because no one would notice my absence anyway. The anger that would flicker into a bonfire of rage for no reason at all. It consumed me. The therapy, drug therapy and endless time spent trying to overcome that pain and sorrow just took so much of the joy that first year can bring.
When I look back, what I remember aren’t so many of the firsts she had but all those dark feelings. I remember that suffocating pain. Then that makes me angry. I want to punch things over this feeling of loss. After the anger I feel guilt. Guilt about how much time it took me to fully get better and see that sweet, bald-headed baby in front of me. The child who was suddenly 11 months. What the hell happened I remember thinking over and over again.
TD is now six and I have to let this go. I can’t keep holding on to this guilt. It serves no purpose. It helps no one. When I read ‘Getting Rid of the Guilt After Post Partum Depression’ by Kate Kripke on Post Partum Progress last week I couldn’t sleep. I knew that the end of this road had come and now it is time to kick the guilt out the door. Easier said than done. It is still hard to look at some of her baby pictures sometimes because I remember specific moments in the depression that kept me from being fully present during that photo. But I’m going to work on it. I have to for her and for me.
Guilt, it’s not me, it’s you.
So long.
God, that’s exactly how I feel when I look back on Savannah’s first year. I missed so much….so much!
Ugh. I’m so sorry. Though a bit relieved to know it is not just me that experiences this. I hate it so much.
So long suckah!!
Beautiful post. You can tell that guilt to kiss you’re butt and know that although you feel like you lost those years, TD would rather have you available now to make memories together.
This is a very inspiring story about dealing with postpartum depression guilt. A lot of women who are feeling the same emotion can finally have the courage of letting go their guilt. Thanks for sharing your story.
I know this post is 2 years old, but I just stumbled upon it tonight when out of nowhere that deep, internal pain you talked about grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I ended up googling “dealing with the guilt from postpartum depression” and found your blog! My son is 4.5 and I can’t remember his first year of life….well, I do remember some things, but it all feels so negative and sad. He was a “difficult” baby, but sometimes I wonder if he actually was or if I just perceived him to be that way because of my PPD. I didn’t even ADMIT I had PPD until he was a year old! That was a long time to deal with dark feelings. Anyway…4.5 years later I can’t get over my guilt. It kills me inside. I have two other children with beautiful memories and pictures of their babyhood, but my 4 yr old? I barely even took pictures of him because I just didn’t care 🙁
Anyway…your post was very inspiring. I think I’m ready to kick my guilt to the curb too…it’s so hard to do, but I need to!!
Lydia, it is so hard. I still have feelings of guilt and wonder if my connection would be stronger to my oldest as it is with my two smaller children. That alone racks me with guilt. Thank you for reaching out. I always love to hear from others who are going through the same thing. It is hard to believe that so many years out these feelings are still with us. Thank you for reminding me to continue to kick that guilt out!!! 🙂
I will say a bit further that I have gotten over most of it. She’s 8 now and since I decided to let go of the guilt I have found a better place with her that feels stronger. Reading to her at night is one of my favorite times of the day and when I get to spend time alone with her, like I did this afternoon, just sitting on the front steps chatting, it is the reason I became a mother. I revel in that instead!