My Postpartum Anxiety and Depression Story

I am not a professional and none of this should serve as medical advice.  It's just my story. If you are in crisis, call or text 988 for the Crisis and Suicide Lifeline. The Lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals in the United States. If you are having a medical emergency, please call 911 or visit your nearest emergency department for help.

In September of 2020, I had my 3rd kid.  I went on to battle terrible postpartum anxiety and depression for quite some time to come. In April of 2021, 7 months after his birth, and still in the thick of my mental health struggles, I posted my first post on Instagram as "The Anxious Hobbyist."  Soon thereafter, I decided to share my entire postpartum anxiety and depression experience... the good, the bad and the ugly.  I remember thinking, I've been bottling all my feelings up for as long as I can remember, and that obviously wasn't working too well for me, so I HAVE to do something different and I HAVE to change.  So I started posting and putting it all out there.  I hoped that it would take the power away from my anxiety, I would stop trying to fight it so hard and that maybe, it would make one person not feel as alone.  

I've compiled my postpartum journey below, all in one place.  To read it makes me sad, proud and all of the emotions in between.  But, this story will always hold such a special part in my heart because it was a monumental event in my life that feels like it changed everything. Today, I think of it as an incredible turning point in my life.  It was the hardest thing I've ever gone through, but I did go through it and am happy to say I'm on the other side today.  

Here's my postpartum anxiety and depression story.

May 2021, my backstory with anxiety:

I’d like to share my mental health story... for many reasons. In a nutshell, telling my story has only led to wonderful things for me every since I started. It has helped me heal, build such deep connections with others and I of course hope this can make others feel not so alone in their own mental health struggles.

I’m going to start this story five years ago (we haven’t gone further back in therapy yet 🤣) after having my first baby, Emerson, in 2015. She was born by emergency c-section after heading to an appointment where the nurse realized her heartrate was way too slow. She was born at 36 weeks and spent 4-5 days in the hospital. We had a really hard couple of weeks getting her to eat enough at home but from there on out, things went as expected. We were all happy and healthy.

When she was 4 months old, I spent my first night away from her. We headed out of town for a wedding and I did great during the day but I had an anxiety attack all night. I’m not sure that I slept at all. I wasn’t worried about something in particular but my heart and thoughts were racing. The next day I felt so hungover (even though I hadn’t drank). I felt weak and could barely eat all day. Then I got home, felt better and went on with life as usual.

But this kept happening when I’d leave her. It was really situational, which I’d remind myself of, and everything else was going great. That first year as a mom, a night like this probably happened 4-5 times.

Baby #2:

Two years after Emmy was born, I had my 2nd baby… Louie!  We were all happy and healthy but I continued to have the same anxieties.

A few weeks before Louie’s first birthday, in 2018, my sister unexpectedly lost her husband. She was 30 weeks pregnant with her 2nd baby.  My world was turned upside down. I had never gotten news before that made me want to instantly throw up and start shaking. I immediately drove to Milwaukee, where she lives.  I spent a week with her, came back to Minneapolis to see my kids and husband, then headed back and spent a few more weeks with her.  I went back and forth every couple of weeks on weekends that I didn’t work going forward.

She called me when she was in labor and I thankfully made it to Milwaukee in time to be with her as she delivered a healthy baby girl.  It’s something I’ll NEVER forget. My sister’s story in INCREDIBLE. I think she should write a book someday.

Her husbands passing really shook me up.  Could my husband die at any moment? Is Matt (my husband) late getting home because he had a heart attack in his car? What would I do if he passes away in his sleep? For a period of time I had these thoughts a lot, and still do sometimes (especially after we’ve lost a few friends unexpectedly in the last few years).  I now know these can be called "intrusive thoughts."

I also felt so guilty to have a happy and healthy family.  How was I supposed to enjoy these precious days with my 1 and 3 year old while my sister suffered such a tragic loss?  I couldn’t shake the sadness or the anxiety. 

So, I signed up for a marathon because I knew exercise always helped my mood.  A little extreme but it helped.  I saw a therapist who helped to teach me that I can be happy AND grieve for my sister’s loss at the same time. It doesn’t have to be one or the other (thanks cognitive behavioral therapy!).

Soon after my sister having her baby, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I helped her recover after her double mastectomy, continued visiting Milwaukee when I could and talked to her on the phone regularly as she got radiation and eventually made a full recovery. Thank goodness.

By this point I was having anxiety with more situations but I continued to bottle everything up, hide it and tried so hard to fight it. The worst of my anxiety was always in the evenings.  It was still intermittent; and when things were calm in my life I’d often go weeks or a month or two without any major issues. Despite having two little kids at home and continuing to work full time, I never asked for help. I’d always tell myself how lucky I was and get mad at myself for being anxious. There are SO SO many people have it worse off than me.

Baby #3:

When I got pregnant with my 3rd baby I panicked as soon as I saw the positive pregnancy test (even though the baby was so wanted and intended!).  I felt like I was having an anxiety attack for 3-4 days and had difficulty eating and sleeping. I called my sister and told her, through tears, everything about my anxiety for the first time. I also made an appointment with my doctor and told her as well. We decided to not start meds at this time as this would likely pass. I did start taking unisom to help me sleep which my doctor recommended.

I slowly felt better and got excited for the baby but my intermittent anxiety continued. Sometimes I’d worry about specific situations, sometimes I had no idea why I was anxious however often times I worried about if I’d be able to “juggle it all.”

COVID also hit.  Matt couldn’t come to a single one of my baby appointments.  I saw some of my family members (who all live out of state) only once while I was pregnant.  We continued having outdoor visits with Matt’s parents and a few friends. My parents came to visit when max was born but other than that we didn’t have anyone into our house for over a year. 

I kept working my normal schedule at the hospital while pregnant (I'm an Occupational Therapist who works in the NICU with babies). The news and recommendations changed everyday as COVID evolved. I would do things like clean my shoes before leaving work, take my clothes off in the doorway of our home, and shower right away before talking much to my family. We wore a mask and goggles at work all day. My husband Matt is a teacher; he taught from home with our 3 and 5 year old present when their childcare closed for the rest of the school year. I checked the news constantly.

I was hanging in there but the anxiety was becoming more frequent. I started to constantly get anxious about WHEN I would next get anxious. When would it hit again?  It was an endless cycle. I started seeing a therapist more regularly; I wanted to have a plan and set myself up for success during my postpartum period.  

I had to get induced, got an epidural and 5 pushes later (TMI?) I had a healthy baby boy “Max” in September of 2020. I had to wear a mask whenever staff entered my hospital room; although, I think it was around my chin when I delivered.

Em and Lou named him (after the dog max in the Grinch movie 🤣). Everything went well and although it was a major adjustment as a family, things were going better than expected. The first 6 weeks at home went great. It was still nice out, we were getting out for walks and Max was sleeping more than I thought he would.

When I was pregnant I requested 16 weeks off of work for my maternity leave but it was denied (only 12 weeks off was allowed). During the last 6 weeks of my maternity leave, things began to take a turn.

Maternity leave:

During the second half of my maternity leave, I started getting more anxious. Our childcare situation was up in the air for all 3 kids due to COVID and some other factors. Every time I drove I started constantly looking in the rear view mirror to see which kids I had - worrying I would miss a pick up time or leave baby max somewhere. I would later learn that this was a postpartum mood disorder manifestation called intrusive thoughts. I started overthinking everything and I couldn’t get out of my head. I started consistently having a hard time sleeping, regardless if my baby was sleeping. I never had a longing to be a stay home mom, but I was so nervous about juggling it all when I returned to work.

In the last days of my maternity leave I had some nights where I barely slept. I started to worry in the afternoon about how my evening and overnight would go. I decided to call my doctor and finally felt ready to start on medications. I started an anxiety medication (for the first time) a few days before I went back to work at the end of my 12 week maternity leave.

But, things kept getting worse. The first medication I took didn’t help. At this point I was not sleeping well at all and I was anxious everyday to GO to sleep. The weather had gotten cold, it was darker outside, I wasn’t getting out enough or having visitors. We didn’t have any practical help because of COVID - nor was I asking for help or really sharing with many people what I was going through. It was the perfect storm.

I went back to work for one day, where felt like I was having panic attacks all day long. When I got home, I had my first truly debilitating panic episode. I felt like I couldn’t breath. I melted down. I stayed up, anxious and panicky, all night.

I called in sick to work the next day. How embarrassing I thought- my second day back to work. I talked to my doctor and decided to go out on a medical leave. I had no other choice.  I was a mess.  More panic attacks came during the next few days.  My husband and I told his parents what was going on and his mom came to stay with us for a night or two.  There were two or three times I thought I needed to go to the ER.  Two of the times I had panic attacks so bad that I thought I needed help breathing.  At one point I had eaten so little (but thankfully always kept drinking) that I didn’t feel like I was OK anymore.  I felt so nauseous.  I remember FORCING myself to eat a banana and decided against going to the ER that day. 

After talking to my doctor almost on a daily basis, we decided I should stop taking my anxiety medication and start taking meds to help me sleep. I continued to not eat enough for a few weeks. I would cry off and on all day long. I felt “doomed” which was a feeling I had never felt before. I felt as if something terrible happened and more terrible things were coming. I started sleeping more but I’d wake up each morning sad I wasn’t feeling better. Another day feeling depressed and anxious - I kept saying “this isn’t me.” It was the scariest and hardest time of my life. It took everything in me to drink a glass of water, eat a piece of toast or take a shower on some days.

I extended my 2 weeks of medical leave to add on another 4. I was in such a dark place but I was determined to “keep climbing.” I’d recite “keep climbing” to myself every hour.  I started writing in a gratitude app on my phone.  I’d try to find SOMETHING positive; anything.  One day I wrote “drank a glass of water, thankful for my husband being there for me, took a shower.”

Here are a few of my "gratitude journal" entries.  I tried to come up with anything positive from my day and ended up coaching myself in the process...

The day I went back to work after my maternity leave then 6 weeks of medical leave:

Living in fear:

For months, I was living in fear. Fear it could “all fall apart again,” fear of panic attacks, fear of sleepless nights, fear I wouldn’t be able to hold down my job and that being a stay at home mom didn’t feel right either. Fear, fear and more fear. Anxiety took over me and I felt out of control - despite the fact that I was now functioning. At times, I felt like I was literally asking for help in any way I could but nothing helped fast enough to give me some relief... did I need to be admitted to a treatment center? I cried because I kept thinking “this isn’t me.” I’m not myself. I felt like I was missing out on being with my kids because I wasn’t really there. I had never in my life felt depressed like this.

I started on a new and different anti-anxiety medication and over the course of weeks (most take 4-6 weeks to take effect), started to get a little better. I stopped breastfeeding and my husband did all the overnight wake ups with baby Max, so I could focus on sleep. We adopted the motto “sleep above all else.” We let the big kids watch TV in the morning for as long as needed to help one of the adults keep sleeping in.

I had to force myself to keep going. I had to choose everyday to do things instead of leaning in to the depressed thoughts. It felt excruciating but I was so determined. I signed up for a peer support person (who literally changed my life) and started attending a support group. I cried every time I spoke during the first few groups. I spoke to my family, friends and coworkers about what I was going through. I told myself that bottling everything up my whole life clearly didn’t work so I HAD to try something new. Every morning and every evening of my medical leave I did 10-15 min of yoga, 10 min of meditation and 5-10 min of journaling. I went for walks outside even when I didn’t want to. I focused on eating and drinking water. I had regular therapy appointments and talked to the supportive people in my life. Some days I did all of this and still felt terrible and discouraged. Other days I did these things and felt a little better. I documented every win, regardless of “size”, everyday.

Update on where I’m at today (June 2, 2021):

Today, I’m back to work. I work what’s considered full time but I’m a 0.8 or 32 hours per week. I work everyday to find little moments for ME; whether it be sitting in my car for a few minutes, doing little meditations, 10 min yoga videos or lots of jog/walks outside. I go to my support group and therapy; not every week anymore but often. I was nervous but I advocated for myself, and now have a psychiatrist managing my anti-anxiety medication, labs and supplements.

I say no to things, have been thinking about boundaries more often, and try to ask for help. I have a “toolbox” of strategies that help with my anxiety. These aren’t techniques I learned overnight. It took me a lot of practice and dedication to implant these into my lifestyle. My favorites include meditation, yoga, breath work, reading for pleasure, journaling, decreasing screen time, talking to my support people, and many more.

I have deeper connections now than I’ve EVER had before with my friends, family members and husband. I realized what I needed- my support system- was there all along; I just wasn’t tapping into it. At the age of 35, I’ve made friends outside of my typical circle of people; People with new experiences and perspectives that I feel so honored to have in my life. I’m starting to feel regular happiness, hope, inspiration, bravery and even a tiny bit of confidence. I feel truly proud of myself; in a way that I haven’t felt before. 

We need each other. We need to tell our stories. We need to put ourselves first so we can be our best selves for the people we love. We need hobbies, leisure, self-care, rest and to sit when we drink our coffee; even though our society doesn’t prioritize this. We need to not feel guilty or ashamed of any of these things.

Thank you for letting me tell my story. I feel so supported and loved.