Life is Better Than the Alternative

My youngest was born three years ago. About a month after he was born, I noticed myself having a lot of depression, along with a lot of rage. I chalked it up to the C-section I had and the lack of sleep (thanks to a newborn and a toddler). I was home a lot by myself and things just felt like they were piling up. So, I packed up my car and went to stay with my parents for awhile. If I am being honest I think it was because I was scared to be home while my husband worked long hours.

One day I was sitting in my parents’ house, holding my crying baby, and listening to my toddler play in the other room…

I started to cry.

I mean really cry, or sob if you will. And this went on for several hours.

I looked at the clock every couple of minutes, hoping that hours had gone by. I was also watching the clock because my mom comes home for her lunch break, and I didn’t want her to see me in the state I was in. I knew just when she would get off and how long it took her to come home. So a few minutes before she was to get off, I washed my face and put on what I thought was a brave face. I acted like I was totally okay while she was home. I ate lunch, rocked my baby, talked with my mom, and fed my toddler. Then, the door shut and she went back to work, and I went back to sobbing. I felt like such a failure. The negative thoughts consumed me. At some points in the day I wasn’t even sure I was going to keep breathing, because the amount of weight on my chest seemed to get heavier and heavier.

Now that may sound extreme, but to be honest, the amount of panic and depression I had was rather intense. Then, my toddler went down for a nap, and it was almost time for my baby to sleep, so I thought; “here comes my break. I can do this.” That thought was wrong. My toddler did sleep, but my baby just screamed and screamed and screamed.

I was so angry. I was overwhelmed. I was so confused as to why this was bothering me so much. And I knew I needed to put my baby somewhere safe.

So I did. I put him in a portable crib and I put him in another room. I shut the door. Then, I sat on the couch, pulled my knees to my chest, and rocked myself. I am not sure how much time went by, but I remember rocking myself and focusing so hard on my rocking that I actually tuned out my baby crying. Now you might be thinking I am a bad mom for doing this, or you may think something else negative, but I am here to tell you it was truly the best thing for me and my baby in that moment.

I was in such a dark place and I knew that if I didn’t get help it would only get worse. So, I mustered up the courage to call my OB’s office. The shame I felt pushing that button to call was so overwhelming the tears started again when my OB said “Hello, how can I help you?”. I was silent (other than the sniffles that came from my crying). My OB said “You are so brave momma”. Again I stayed silent, but I thought to myself, “how can she say that, she doesn’t even know why I am calling”. I sat silent for a few more seconds then said “I need help.”

Even writing this, my chest tightens because I know what I felt in that moment. I felt that I was going to be judged, or deemed an unfit mother. I felt that I was going to be told that I was unfixable or unworthy of care, or too far gone. What she said was the exact opposite though.

She said “You are so brave. You are going to get through this, and you did what was best in this moment.”

I won’t ever forget that day, because that’s when healing began. As I sit here today, I can tell you that healing is still happening. I can also tell you this journey has been hard and that there’s been so many setbacks. I have tried several medications and nothing has worked. Each time a medication doesn’t work I go through a period of being upset, feeling like full healing will never come, and sometimes feeling like being here is harder than the alternative.

I’ve had one of those setbacks recently, and it’s been hard. It’s been hard to tell myself to keep going, and some days are so dark emotionally that I don’t even want to leave my bed. But, I keep going because people depend on me. There’s kids to take care of, food to make, bills to pay and errands to run. Today, I ran an errand with my kids and as I pulled the grocery cart up to our car I noticed some writing on the window of the car beside me.

“Life is better than the alternative” is what it said.

I took a deep breath as my kids screamed at each other and refused to buckle up because they needed to find that special toy they dropped on the van floor. I said to myself “Life is better than the alternative”. I repeated it to myself a few times as the last three years flashed through my mind. So, that’s my message for you today as well, because I know I am not the only one who struggles, and I know its something we all need to be told.

Life is better than the alternative.