My War Isn't Over; My Fight with PPD

Infertile people are often self-righteous and selfish. We think after going through years of struggle, loss etc. that our battles should be won. We succeeded; Our war is over. We have to qualify any complaints or pass them off as tongue-in-cheek jokes. "I gladly throw up ten times a day for the joy of being pregnant, but if I see one more dry cracker I'm going to punch something." Why do we do this to ourselves? We won a battle but that doesn't mean we can't complain because our leg got blown off. What sense does that make?

And while we admit to the world that "no one should have to suffer from morning sickness or PPD" etc. we really mean "we shouldn't have to suffer from any of those other things because we have suffered enough." It's entitlement at its best.

Then there are some of us who really feel like we are not entitled to complain about anything because we DID succeed where some of our friends are still struggling. We shouldn't draw attention to ourselves because how many issues can we honestly have without looking like an Attention Whore. Will people think we are real if we have every issue under the sun? Will people believe us if we keep crying wolf?

But it happens. There is no rhyme or reason for any one person to be afflicted with infertility, miscarriage, morning sickness (though mine wasn't that bad) and Post Partum Depression. We can pretend, we can fight, we can hide it so as not to draw attention to ourselves or more importantly not to face the truth. If I pretend it doesn't exist I don't have to feel like I have failed AT EVERY SINGLE THING involving parenthood.

I failed to get pregnant for four years. I failed to bring my first child into the world. I failed to push my second child out after four days of labor. I failed to breastfeed him and had to supplement. I fail everyday in being supermom because I fight to be strong and to not admit I have anger issues, sadness, physical pain, a sickness deep in my gut over certain aspects of my life. I plaster a smile on my face and tell the world I'm fine, just tired, and play with my son.

And then it hits me. I'm not okay. I add it all up and face the music. Face the drugs the Dr. tells me to take so I can be okay. So I can be a better mom because I am failing my son the way I am. I continue to fail. Can the drugs wipe that out? Can they make me succeed? Hopefully. Drugs helped me succeed in getting pregnant. Drugs helped me succeed in getting him out (Bless God for the invention of an epidural and Csection). Maybe just maybe if I give in, drugs can help me control the anger, the sadness, the neurosis, the hormonal imbalance that plagues my house.

Hello. My name is Krista. I have survived Infertility and Miscarriage. I WILL conquer Post Partum Depression.