(6/9) Waves of PPD

The weeks following my postpartum experience were entirely different than when I had my first two boys.  For the first time, I had a physical reason to “take it easy.” Although my recovery was incredibly quick, I still was capable of doing too much.  I reverted back to the lesson I had learned this time around in pregnancy too; ask for help and accept the help offered to you.  For the first time in three postpartum experiences, I simply rested.  Knowing I did not plan on having any more babies after him, I soaked in every newborn snuggle. I adored every newborn cry.  I didn’t even mind the multiple wakings at night.  The whole experience was different. It was peaceful.  

However, like clockwork, at three months postpartum the faint and familiar feeling of depression did begin to trickle in.  I spent a day fighting off the urge to cry. Finally giving I sobbed on my bedroom floor unsure why.  Whenever I am sinking into a hormonal-inflicted depression, the devil likes to strike hard.  I am flooded with self-doubt; hatred even.  I feel unloved, unworthy, unexceptional.  I throw every insult possible at myself.  This time I was determined not to fall victim to eating my feelings.  This time I consulted a doctor right away and got on medication.  It’s hard to say if it ever really worked because the depression comes in waves. I started to restrict my eating, increase my exercise,  and look more into self-reflection to improve my mental health.  None of what I was doing was unhealthy but it was a lot to put on my own shoulders.  This was yet another time I was like a child of God who had been picked up and comforted in my time of grief.  Only to wriggle myself free from him the moment I feel well enough to be put back down.  In other words, I still had not learned how to give these things up to God. I was trying to conquer postpartum depression on my own. 

I’m sure you can imagine how that went.  I managed two months of exercise, diet, and mental health podcasts. All the while, still listening to my Bible In A Year.  I had tried to start up a TikTok channel to motivate myself.  That was when I found myself caught in a trap seeking self-worth through other people.  Any positive comments or videos that got a decent amount of views boosted my confidence.  Likewise, any that fell short or got little to no likes would send me into a self-doubting spiral.  I still had not realized the one true opinion of me that mattered. 

Yet, I had enough sense to know part of improving my mental health would be to grow closer to God.  I was viewing this endeavor as a whole body, mind, and spirit, improvement.  That meant diving into a christian side of TikTok, returning to regular Sunday mass, and getting deeper in my prayer.  It’s important to note that I talked to God all the time but I did not give Him my problems.  I wanted Him to fix what I was still holding onto.  I wanted to hear Him but I wasn’t letting Him speak.  I so desperately wanted Him to speak to me that I hadn’t even realized at first when He actually did.  I was expecting an auditory voice but looking back, He was talking to me loud and clear.  

Finally, one day in church while praying, begging, to hear him I encountered a conversation in my head that went something like the following:

Lord, I want to hear you

I’m listening but I don’t hear you

Am I really listening?

I guess I do have my headphones in a lot.

There usually is always something on in the background

Or I’m scrolling TikTok.

I can’t give that up I’m trying to build a platform there

Yeah, I guess that hasn’t really been a positive experience for me

I guess I use it more for distraction than anything else.

But I do watch Christian conten-

Okay. No more TikTok