Trigger warning: suicide ideation
I need extra children. I’m grateful for the 2 I have, however I can’t assist daydreaming about what a 3rd or fourth little one can be like.
But I can’t have any extra. Postpartum melancholy ravaged me after I had my son, who’s now 4. I was an emotional wreck and began abusing my anxiousness remedy to flee the ache. I was taking three to 4 occasions the prescribed dose and couldn’t get off the bed most days. I’d get up, get the children prepared and drive them to preschool, then return to mattress till I picked them up at two o’clock.
I started placing them in afternoon care as a result of I couldn’t deal with being round them that lengthy. That’s onerous to confess. Along with postpartum melancholy, I had terrible anxiousness that may manifest as rage. It made me delicate to loud noises, placing me on edge and making me irritated when the children would play.
I began faking migraines so my mother-in-law or husband would maintain the children. It felt horrible and made me extraordinarily responsible. I felt like an unfit mother.
I turned suicidal. When I talked to my (former) physician, he informed me I had treatment-resistant melancholy and that the majority meds wouldn’t work for me. In my eyes, he had stop on me. I was misplaced and scared. One Friday, I went to the emergency room as a result of I was suicidal. I was hospitalized for the weekend then launched.
A few months later, I confessed to my husband how dangerous my melancholy and anxiousness was. I was hospitalized for six weeks at a psychiatric hospital, the place I acquired the assistance I wanted.
It has been two years, however I didn’t stroll out of that hospital cured. I was doing electroconvulsive remedy (ECT) each 4 to 6 weeks. I needed to go to weekly remedy as effectively. I needed to be excellent with my medicines and learn to deal with my anxiousness. I can’t slip up, not as soon as. It was (and nonetheless is) onerous work.
I’m simply now attending to a spot the place I really feel in management over my problems. I really feel, dare I say, “normal”?
It’s bittersweet celebrating that as a result of I suppose I’ve missed my likelihood to get pregnant once more. I’m solely 37, there’s nonetheless time, however I can’t justify having one other child when I went by means of a lot with the opposite two. I simply may’ve died by suicide final time, and I don’t suppose I can deal with feeling that manner once more. I know my husband can’t. I can’t inform if wanting extra children is a organic urge or that I really feel one thing has been taken from me.
I have a lot, and I’m so grateful. I have fun my household, however I can’t assist however really feel betrayed by this physique of mine and my obstinate mind.
I consider cradling a new child to my chest, smelling his head and breastfeeding. I take into consideration the newborn blankets I may sew to match the others. Hearing his first phrase, taking his first steps. I consider us as an enormous, bustling household and the way a lot enjoyable we’d have. But I should cease there.
Instead I cling to reminiscences of my children. I will bear in mind how a lot we giggle, how enjoyable it’s to construct forts out of sofa cushions. I will consider their hugs and kisses and all of the “I love yous.” I will ponder about all the recommendation I have to offer (most likely to be ignored) and all the vacations to have fun. I will search for the great in every day and cherish it.
I lovingly launch the ideas that would’ve been and deal with what I have, which is greater than sufficient.
My household is full, and I am, too.