From INHERITANCE Issue #5 - March 2010

“You can do it, Carol. One more push.” My husband Ed had stayed close by my side in the hospital delivery room and encouraged me as I gave birth to our baby. Moments later, I held our beautiful girl Jennifer, six pounds six ounces, in my arms.

Little did I know, my greatest joy would become my greatest challenge.

Every day for three months I cried. It started with nursing. Jennifer would suckle at my breast until I was sure she was asleep. I prayed she would stay asleep after laying her down, but invariably, she woke up. I could not stand letting her cry for more than a minute — it really got on my nerves.

My husband could take the irritating sound longer, but he didn’t have to get up! I had tried giving her a pacifier, but she rejected it early on. Sleep-deprived and frustrated, I’d repeat the process three or four times. When she finally stayed asleep in her crib, I dragged myself back to bed only to be awakened a few hours later.

Before becoming a mother, I had been a third grade teacher for thirteen years. I was used to children obeying me and if they didn’t, they paid the consequences. For instance, I could take away recess privileges for bad behavior. But my little girl turned the tables on me. I was at her beck and call. If she wasn’t fed, changed, and held, I’d have to endure her plaintive cries, all the while lamenting I couldn’t control her. As a baby, she couldn’t be punished for crying, it was just her way of communicating. But it seemed I was being punished if I didn’t tend to her needs immediately. I felt inadequate, frustrated and finally desperate. I didn’t know I was suffering from postpartum depression.

After-delivery or postpartum depression is more severe than merely feeling blue. It lasts longer and is the result of a drop in hormones such as serotonin and dopamine, which give the body a sense of well-being. Lack of sleep and sporadic eating habits can also contribute to distress. As a form of clinical depression, it can be diagnosed and treated by a doctor. Even though I had read about the condition during my voracious study of parenting books and magazines, I never thought it would ever apply to me.

God knew I needed help and he provided relatives and friends to encourage and help me. For the first month of her life, I was home with Jennifer every day. Part of this was due to Chinese tradition (which was to allow the mother to recover from childbirth), and part was to avoid exposing our baby to possible illnesses. But everyone brought over meals and provided much-needed adult companionship. My mother even stayed with me three days out of the week when my husband went on a business trip.

Ed is a very involved father. He did everything but feed Jennifer including changing diapers and holding Jennifer while I ate or took a nap. When he got home from work, he loved spending time with his little girl playing “flying baby.”

One night, my mother stayed over and heard me crying in the shower. “If I were you, I’d stop breastfeeding,” she said. I ignored her advice because I thought breastfeeding was best for the baby. Later on, it turned out she was right.

My friend, Ginger, noticed I had lost my “baby weight” quickly. “Are you eating normally?” she asked. I assured her I ate three meals a day, but didn’t have time for snacks. But her inquiry reminded me to take care of myself while caring for my daughter.

During one of Jennifer’s checkups, I cried in the doctor’s office in front of the whole staff. He called later to make sure I was okay. The doctor was concerned I was suffering from postpartum blues that could turn into postpartum depression. I assured him I was okay, ashamed to think I had a psychological problem.

When my in-laws came for a visit, I had a sudden urge to leave the house and do something “normal.” While crossing the parking lot of the local grocery store, I thought, “I don’t care if a car hits me. Then someone else can take care of my baby.” Although not exactly suicidal, the notion certainly was unusual. It should have been a red flag to alert me that my mental state wasn’t normal. God protected me that day even though I did not look both ways before crossing as I usually did.

The Lord knew I needed a change in attitude and He provided help in an unexpected way. My husband and I went out to eat with a couple from church. The woman seemed agitated and finally told us her father was dying of cancer. She remembered my father had died of the same disease many years earlier and asked how I had coped with it. While recounting how God had brought me through that trial, I hoped it helped her, but at the same time realized God would bring me through this process of adjusting to life with a baby in the same way.

At Jennifer’s two-month checkup, her doctor told me to stop breastfeeding and give her formula because I wasn’t producing enough milk. My mother was right, although for most babies and their mothers, breastfeeding is best.

I had read somewhere that some babies had difficulty switching and would not take formula if the mother gave it. So my husband fed her a bottle in the living room while I stayed in the bedroom. Praise God she did! Now Ed and I could take turns for the night feeding and I wouldn’t feel “breast-cuffed” to a little crying machine.

Would she take a pacifier after drinking formula? Since she had rejected it earlier, I was doubtful, but prayed she would. We sighed in relief when she began sucking on the “marnie,” as she would later call it. Now feeding and sleeping would become less frustrating.

As our lives slowly adjusted to a new baby, I had less and less reason to cry. Getting more sleep gave me more energy. My post-delivery hormone levels returned to a more normal state. Gaining control of Jennifer’s eating and sleeping habits empowered me. Looking back, I should not have been ashamed to seek help for a psychological issue. Some women with postpartum depression commit infanticide or harm themselves.

A few years later, I read a book on grief and realized another reason I had cried so much was because I was grieving the loss of my old life as a teacher, freedom to do routine tasks anytime I wanted and control of my own household. Although I didn’t understand at the time, God knew, and was with me throughout the whole process.

He used people and circumstances to comfort, encourage, inform, and challenge me. I had to give up control of my life so He could reveal His plan to me at the right time and in the best way.

I wish I could have avoided postpartum depression. I think sleeping when Jennifer slept, getting plenty of assistance, and joining a Bible study with other mothers of small children helped. If I had thought of motherhood as a career change early on, then I may have been more prepared for the stress.

As a typical Asian, I studied books and magazines to be the perfect mother and to get an “A” in parenting. But that’s really an unrealistic expectation. If you suffer from depression, it does not mean you have failed.

Perhaps like me, you may have had a baby and been depressed. You may be unaware of it or even in denial. Some normal changes occur that can cause symptoms similar to depression. But if you have any of the following for more than two weeks, I urge you to contact your doctor.

• Feelings of restlessness or moodiness
• Feeling sad, hopeless and overwhelmed
• Crying a lot
• Having no energy or motivation
• Eating too much or too little
• Sleeping too much or too little
• Having trouble focusing or making decisions
• Having memory problems
• Feeling worthless and/or guilty
• Losing interest or pleasure in activities you used to enjoy
• Withdrawing from friends and family
• Having headaches, aches and pains or stomach problems that don’t go away

Your doctor can tell if your symptoms are caused by depression or something else.

Jennifer is fifteen now and in three years will be going to college. Already I tear up at the thought of my only child leaving home. But even as God was with Ed and me when she was born, I know He will be with us when she leaves. I thank God for her and trust Him to take care of all of us.