A Mother Fights Through PPD After Induction and Cesarean Birth

{Editors Note: This story comes to us from a strong young mother. When our births take a turn we did not expect, it can effect how we feel as mothers and women. Postpartum Depression is real. Mothers – you are not alone. Seek support and help in the best way possible to help you heal.}

At nineteen, I found out I was pregnant. My boyfriend and I started talking about what to do. Adoption? Abortion? No, this lady was mine and I was in love with her (we found out at 20 weeks because I was still having periods, so I didn’t have to wait to find out gender!). The next few months felt like they took forever, with multiple complications in the mix.

At 39 weeks, I was induced because of hypertension. They started the pitocin, placed that ball [a Foley Bulb] in to get me started on dilating, and we were on a roll. At 3 am, they checked me, said I was at 5cm, and said that at the rate I was dilating, I should be pushing by dawn. For the next 14 hours, they kept checking with no progress.

They had maxed the pitocin to the highest it was allowed without direct doctors orders. I was contracting, hard. My daughter was stuck, there was no way she was coming out vaginally. At 20 years old, I felt like a failure. I felt like I couldn’t do what a mother should be able to do. As they wheeled me back to the operating room, I cried.

Not because I’d see my daughter soon, but because I didn’t get to experience what everyone else I had talked to got to experience. I hadn’t talked to anyone that had a c-section yet.

At 5:20 pm on May 3, 2012, my daughter Ameriellys was born. She was beautiful. It was wonderful. The hospital stay was fine, though I barely slept because they’d take my daughter to the nursery if I fell asleep at night with her (since I couldn’t move all that much to get her out of the bassinet or change her or anything).

It wasn’t until I got home that I suddenly felt horrible. I was upset all the time. I was snapping at her father constantly. I cried every time I tried to breastfeed because I still hadn’t fully brought in milk, and I felt like it wasn’t going to work. I wanted to do nothing but sleep. I couldn’t do what a normal mother should be able to do because I had major surgery and could barely move.

I felt, again, like a complete failure because I needed help. I realized I had PPD. I tried to fake being happy, but everyone saw I was a wreck. I never went to counseling, I never went and got medication. Instead, I surrounded myself with my wonderful family and support system of friends and the massive family Ameri was born into, and day by day they slowly helped me realize that my daughter needed me.

I may not be perfect, but she loved me. She calmed down when I talked to her, she felt safe when I was near. I may have needed help, but no one became the perfect mother overnight, and every mom asks for help and needs support.

She is currently almost 11 months old, and while I still am not perfect, I’m the perfect mother to her. I filled my time up by going back to school and starting work back up, which helps the 3 sets of grandparents see her because they get to watch her while I do that. Rather than allowing myself to fall back into that darkness, I pushed myself to go do things that I, and my daughter, would be proud of me for doing.