About two days after the birth of my third son 10 years ago, I knew something was wrong. It felt like a heavy weighted blanket. I was crying all the time. I would watch my baby sleep, and I was so overwhelmed with love for him but felt so sad. Sad for all of the pain he would endure throughout his life, sad because I couldn't protect him, sad because I felt crazy and that he had a crazy mom. I was worried that he wouldn't like me.
At first, I didn't think it could be PPD, because I didn't have it with my first two kids 12 and eight years prior. I hid it from my partner well, being home alone all day. But he began growing concerned when I would have a panic attack whenever he touched me. I couldn't even sleep in the same bed with him. About two days later — within a week of giving birth — I asked him to call my midwife because I wouldn't be able to talk on the phone without crying. She put me on an antidepressant, which helped within days. I continued taking the medication for several years.
I want other moms to know that PPD is real, and you are not crazy. Just because someone doesn't understand what you're going through doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. Communicate with your health care provider sooner than later — there is hope.
— Jennifer Snyder, 45, professional organiser, Waco, TX