Mine started with my unexpected failure at breastfeeding.
For an entire day my baby screamed and nursed. Screamed and nursed. Screamed and nursed. And then eventually just screamed. My breasts felt empty and sore. The screaming wouldn't stop. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to soothe her when she refused to eat anymore.
I called my pediatrician's nurse line three times before I finally just put the phone next to the baby so they could hear her frantic, relentless cries. They told me to take her to the emergency room. I was so panicked and scared and overstimulated at that point that it actually seemed like a good idea.
We packed our eight day old baby up and drove her to the emergency room across town in the snow. She fell asleep in the car. I almost said that we should just keep driving around but I was terrified there was something wrong with her. I had cried so much that my eyes were almost swollen shut and people in the waiting room averted their gaze from my crazy, puffy eyes and screaming newborn.
The ushered us back to a room very quickly. The pitying looks from every nurse were painful. The looks that said "Oh...first time parents...". The doctor came to see us and said to go home and figure it out. I burst out crying - again.
The next morning I fed my baby her first bottle of formula. She looked up at me relieved and slept for the first time in what felt like days. I decided then in a moment of hormonal panic to formula feed.
I felt awful about it. I felt like a failure. I felt like my baby wouldn't need me for anything anymore. I felt like my husband would be angry that I hadn't tried harder. I worried about the cost of formula. I worried about everything.
When I look back I feel like I can trace the very beginning of my postpartum depression and anxiety to those two days. Those moments of desperation and despair.
That's where this journey started.
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