Untold Stories

So, this started as an Instagram caption before I realized there was no way I was going to be able to consolidate my thoughts down to that character limit. I have been absolutely engrossed in the Lindsay Clancy trial for weeks now. It is devastating. It is heart-breaking. It is also triggering. Like so many other women, it brings me right back to my own experiences after our daughters were born - the postpartum depression, anxiety, and some preexisting OCD that got kicked into overdrive after Ellie was born. 

I keep thinking about the prosecution saying in their closing statements about a video of the family, “if we asked you, pick out the woman who is depressed, pick out the woman who wants to kill herself…You couldn’t pick her out. She’s completely calm. All her behaviors are typical and normal.”

And yeah, that’s actually the whole point. Every day parents power through debilitating mental health symptoms. We caffeinate and carry on because diapers still need to be changed, kids need to be fed, and things need to get done. 

When I look back at pictures from late 2023 when Ellie was born, I seem happy, in love, overjoyed by the newest addition to our family. I was. But I was also drowning - I was carrying so much guilt for Ellie’s early arrival. I blamed myself as I stared at all the tubes and wires, feeling completely helpless. I poured myself into pumping around the clock, triple-feeding, and meticulously tracking every little detail. Breastfeeding became the one thing I desperately wanted to succeed at because I felt like I was failing at everything else. 

As the weight of everything grew heavier, I fell into depression. My thoughts got super dark and I was unnecessarily hard on myself. I began to find myself thinking Shane would be better off without me, that he would be happier. I never rose to the level of wanting to kill myself, but would long to simply disappear. Some days I sort of wanted to just cease to exist. I wanted to escape walls that felt like they were closing in on me. So, I imagine part of the reason this trial has struck such a nerve with me is that it feels a bit like watching the worst case scenario playing out. It makes me wonder about what could’ve happened to me if I didn’t have help. How bad could things have gotten if I didn’t get support and proper care?

Because, by the grace of God I did have so much love, support, and care. Shane, my family, my OB, and my therapist all helped walk with me through some truly dark, heavy, scary days. My therapist and OB especially created a safe space where I could share the terrible stories I was telling myself. They loved me. They listened. They let me ask questions. They let me process and debrief my birth story. They witnessed the pain I was carrying. They encouraged me to let go of the guilt and blame that were crushing me. They continue to do that. 

The whole perinatal period is a wild journey. Even with Abby, whose birth went so smoothly by comparison, I remember sobbing in the shower the night we came home from the hospital. I remember the stress of weight checks. The constant worry about feeds and growth. Those same concerns still pop-up. It took me MONTHS after Abby was born to ever feel like I was a good mom. All of that anxiety was increased a hundred-fold when Ellie was born. Between all the complications, the premature delivery, a c-section, time in the NICU, having my heart torn between the hospital and big sister at home - things were ROUGH. 

Even before I was discharged from the hospital, I knew I needed help and support. Birth trauma threw my heart and mind for a loop. I will forever be grateful for my OB and the therapist they referred me to. They held me on days when I was falling apart. Even now, almost 3 years later, those memories still feel tender. Postpartum depression, anxiety, and OCD rocked my world. They are just some of the postpartum mood and anxiety disorders people struggle with. They are part of my story. I am not ashamed of that. 

These stories are ones that so often go untold. We want the pretty story; the warm-fuzzy feelings of joy that we expect when a new baby is born. Unfortunately, things like PPD/PPA/etc still get stigmatized. We feel like bad moms for struggling. I know that I personally felt selfish and silly for carrying so much grief when “at least I have a healthy baby.” I felt like a terrible person for feeling so sad when other parents have lost their babies. 

When I talk to other moms, I’m always surprised by how universal so many of these feelings are. The guilt, the fear, the grief, the pressure so many carry. That weight can feel all-consuming. We absolute cannot and should not carry it alone. If you are carrying a story that feels heavy, or if you want to talk about elements of your pregnancy, birth, or postpartum experience that you are still trying to make sense of, I’m always happy to chat. We never need to carry the weight of these untold stories alone. Our stories deserve to be told. The power of our stories is in the telling.