Part 6 - And Then There's Me
Content Warning: postpartum mental health struggles, hormonal responses to breastfeeding, physical strain
Postpartum Mental Health: Baby Blues - or Is It More?
At four months postpartum, I am living with significant postpartum mental health challenges. And I want to be honest about that.
My postpartum experience came with a dizzying array of acronyms: PMAD, PPA, PPOCD, AD, DMER… each one a shorthand for the very real challenges I was facing.
I haven’t rested. I haven’t had a single true break. I see other moms on social media completing chores and accomplishing tasks. I am tethered all day. While this is all what I signed up for in becoming a new mom, a lot of it is amplified by PMAD.
Following my three-week update in Part 1, I learned the hard way that postpartum care, especially care that truly specializes in postpartum mental health, is not readily available. It took a long time to get into therapy, and when I finally did, it wasn’t the right match; the support I needed wasn’t something they could offer. I had to start the search over again, re-enter waiting lists, and sit in the in-between longer than I expected to. I am putting in the work.
Breastfeeding carries its own set of hormonal shifts and sensations. I experience Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex (DMER - a brief but intense wave of negative emotion that hits right as milk lets down). It’s not tied to my thoughts or my love for my baby; it’s purely chemical. The feeling passes, but when paired with exhaustion, anxiety, and long nights, it adds another layer to both the physical and the emotional reality of postpartum. It’s another example of how postpartum can feel heavy in ways that are difficult to explain, especially when you’re living it.
These experiences aren’t a failure of mindset; they’re physical responses shaped by hormones and biology. My hope is that, through my words, I am protecting the love underneath this all. I also hope that I can advocate for other women to recognize sensations they may have felt but never had language for.
Some nights, I find myself endlessly checking on him (his vitals, whether he’s moving, his sleep in the camera, the diapers, feeds, medications). Every little detail feels urgent, and I feel compelled to keep checking, even when I know he’s safe. It’s exhausting and relentless, and it doesn’t come from a lack of trust or love… it’s a compulsion my mind latches onto, a hyper-focus on keeping him safe that my body and brain cannot easily switch off.
It’s another example of how postpartum changes my nervous system, my thoughts, and my reactions in ways that feel automatic and impossible to ignore.
Part 7 - Finding Roses Amongst Thorns
Content Warning: mixed emotions in early motherhood, seasonal depression, anxiety
Some of my favorite moments are the quiet ones… waking up to his smile, the way his whole face lights up when he sees me, the laughter that now comes more easily than it once did. These moments matter. They are the reason we keep going.
I know someday I’ll miss this.
And still, I sometimes wish time away.
“If I can just get to 8 weeks…” “If I can just get to 4 months…” “The golden age is coming…”
Hoping it’s 5 a.m. so the brutal night can be over. But also wishing it’s not 5 a.m. so we can get a little more sleep.
Both things can be true.
As evening comes, anxiety often rises with it… the familiar sundown scaries… a quiet dread of what the night might hold before it even begins.
Winter has been a double-edged sword. The darkness seems to suit him with longer stretches of calm… but for me, the lack of sunlight, fresh air, warmth, and vitamin D has been heavy. I miss the version of myself that recharges outside.
I don’t need this season to be easy to know it is meaningful.