My Journey Through Postpartum Anxiety

When it’s dark and it’s cold and I can’t feel my soul You are still good…

Those are lyrics to a song “You are Good” by Nichole Nordeman. I sang those words over and over again through tears and groaning for the first eight months of my oldest child’s life. I was broken and desperate for someone to help me make sense of this season of pain. My beautiful baby boy brought so much joy but the ache in my heart and the fear in my head overshadowed the gift in my arms. I was sure of one thing…God was good…life didn’t feel good…there was no good answer for what was happening inside of me but “You are still good” was the mantra of my heart. Here is the story of my journey through postpartum anxiety…

I remember the moment that everything shifted. I was sitting on the couch in my hospital room gazing at the miracle I had been gifted and all of a sudden life just seemed a little less sunny. Shortly after this, we were discharged from the hospital and headed home as a family of three. I chalked the feeling up to hormones and tried to fake it until it ended. The first couple of days were rocky but I was a first time mom so that seemed to be on par. Weeks went by and I was still overwhelmed, scared, and panicked. My love for my boy was strong and our connection was beautiful. I spoke to my ob/gyn and to my regular practitioner and both insisted that this was totally normal and I just needed more time. As I continued to wait for this fog to lift, I began noticing that I was the only one of my friends with young children who felt terrified and panicked everyday. My heart would race and race and my mind would feel almost numb because I was constantly exhausted. After months of explaining the same symptoms to various doctors they sent me to a cardiologist because “it must be a heart issue.” I continued to ask if this could have something to do with my hormones or some sort of postpartum issue. I was given the same answer by a couple of different professionals. The wording might have been a little different but it basically sounded like “you are too happy to have postpartum depression and your bond with your baby is too strong for any other post birth issues.” I was lost and confused and felt so defeated.

We went through several rounds of tests on my heart, blood work, and even an emergency room visit because the professionals kept insisting a heart issue was to blame. Let me pause here and say that telling a scared, hormonal, first time mom that she has a heart issue that cannot be figured out is a sure fire way to increase her heart rate even more! All the test came back inconclusive and my husband and I were back in the dark and we had no idea what to do next. I began to have well-intentioned people suggest that I needed to pray more or memorize scripture to help in moments of fear. I had women suggesting that if I would stop isolating myself then I would feel more human. Dear people in my life began to put distance in our relationship, because I was not able to reciprocate friendship and I had no explanation of why. It felt like I was drowning and yet I felt like if I could just swim better I would eventually make it to shore.

Eventually, I decided that I needed to talk to a counselor and try to make sense of all that was occurring and so I made an appointment with a random woman and drug myself to my first session. I sat in her office for the intake and I began to cry and tell her what a horrible mother I felt like and how I couldn’t imagine worse for my child. She listened and asked pages of questions and at the end she smiled and said, “You are having panic attacks and that sounds scary right now but you are going to get your life back.” I was delighted and confused and skeptical and ready to hear the game plan. She ushered me back to the psychiatrist who read through my paperwork and then said, “You have been struggling with postpartum anxiety- it’s like postpartum depression but it presents differently.” He went on to explain that these episodes of dizziness, racing heart, racing mind, chills, sweats, waking in the middle of night in terror, stomach upset, fear that felt so consuming I struggled to breathe were all panic attacks. Panic attacks almost daily…sometimes two and three times a day…for months. I was not seen or heard until this day. I started a medication shortly after and within about six weeks my whole world changed. 

I had a lot of work to do on myself because so much damage was done during that season and so much needed to be repaired. I worked to rebuild relationships and more than anything else I worked to forgive myself. I struggled with anxiety before giving birth and it is part of my life to this day. My anxiety is not a secret or something to be tucked away from the outside world. My bend towards anxiety makes me a great friend, a compassionate listener, an advocate for the unseen and unheard, a safe place for the hurting, a more loving wife, and an incredible mama who gives grace without hesitation. It makes sense looking back that the anxiety was the culprit all along but when I was in the trenches I was not able to make sense of anything. I am ten years out from this story and what I want you to hear is this – if you are hurting and you are unseen or unheard…keep showing up and asking questions and seeking help.  Tell someone your whole truth and stay open to a new professional who can help. This story is not easy to tell but I hope it brings light to an issue that is far too common in our society. Women are still going months and sometimes years with undiagnosed postpartum depression and anxiety. Ladies, it’s ok to not be ok and it’s also ok to look elsewhere for answers if you are not being heard. Your life is far too valuable to be silenced by stigma.

The season was dark and cold and so very long but He was still good. He was in every kind smile from my husband, in every giggle and coo from my little love, in every meal that was brought to our home, in every prayer that was prayed over our lives, in every friend who hoped alongside us, and in every family member who went above and beyond to help. He was in every breath I took and He was in the pain and in the healing.