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Many times we place pressure on ourselves to be superwoman - to overcome every obstacle single-handedly, and with a smile. The person we hurt most by doing so is ourself. For some women, admitting we are experiencing postpartum stress or a form of depression after welcoming our newborn child into our lives is similar to admitting we have failed. In fact, by not admitting we need help, we will fail. Our marriages may end, our self-confidence will wane, and happiness will elude us.

Six months after my twin daughters were born, I realized I was miserable. Although I beamed whenever I was holding one of my daughters, my tone toward my husband was mean. I didn't know why I was so horrible to him. A lot had happened to us and to our marriage over a two year period, but our challenges had been overcome. So why was I still angry?

It had all started when my husband, Dave, and I were informed he was infertile. Based on his medical condition we had three options: 1) in vitro fertilization (IVF), 2) adoption, or 3) childfree living. Dave and I chose IVF as our first attempt to become parents. Our infertility diagnosis was difficult for me to accept and it was challenging to our marriage. In order to manage the sadness of our situation, I sought therapy. During a counseling session, my therapist mentioned that women diagnosed with infertility can experience depression similar to women who are diagnosed with cancer. Initially I didn't believe being infertile could be compared to someone experiencing a potentially deadly disease, but according to one online source "women trying to conceive often have clinical depression rates similar to women diagnosed with heart disease or cancer." [i]

My husband and I were lucky enough to become pregnant during our IVF treatment. We were expecting twins and life resembled the happy state we enjoyed prior to our infertility. But when I twenty-four weeks pregnant, I was admitted into the hospital for preterm labor. I was placed on Magnesium Sulfate, which is a muscle relaxant, to stop my contractions.

At thirty weeks' gestation, my water broke. My twin daughters were born weighing two and one-half pounds each and they had to be placed on life saving medical equipment. Even though I finally had the opportunity to embrace and enjoy motherhood, I was nonetheless full of anger. There was really no explanation for my emotions since I had what I wanted. I was a mother and we were a family.

I couldn't put my finger on a single reason why I so angry because in truth it was a number of things. I was frustrated that we had to resort to medical treatments to become pregnant. I was mad at myself because I had failed to carry my babies full term. I was sure I had done something wrong during my pregnancy to cause their early birth.

Depression is an interesting phenomenon. When we are depressed we use words like sadness, anger, and emptiness to express our emotions. It's hard to distinguish exactly when depression begins and ends because it's not instantaneous. My moods would come and go with the events and circumstances of each day or week.

I didn't use the word "depression" or any of its forms until I was ready to admit I was depressed. My denial prevented me from making positive progress in my relationships or in being happy. At the time, I believed I should have been able to handle the events in my life and my emotions on my own. Truly, I didn't recognize my state of mind. The depression colored the way I interacted with people.

One of my daughter's nurses had mentioned I should seek the assistance of medical therapies to help me "take the edge off." I resented her implication that I needed an anti-depressant because in my mind I was not depressed. It took me five months after the birth of my daughters to admit something was wrong with me. I realized the happy person I used to be was gone and I wanted her back. Therapy sessions were not helping me enough; I needed something else.

Embarrassed as I was to ask a doctor for anti-depressants, I was more humiliated about the person I had become. After one day on the medication I noticed my voice was softer and my mood was lighter. According to my physician, it would take a couple of weeks for me to notice the medication working, but I think my heart was ready so the effect seemed immediate.

After eleven months on the anti-depressants I noticed I was very happy and laughed easily. At this point, I decided it was time to wean from the medication to see how I would do. I started by reducing the dosage by one-half for two months. My physician told me that if you wean too fast, it could make you ill. On a one-week out-of-town trip, I forgot my medication and opted to see how I would do without it. I've been medication-free ever since.

I am not necessarily advocating anti-depressants, but I am suggesting women consider seeking some form of help, whether it's counseling, acupuncture, meditation, massage therapy, Reiki, or any other appropriate outlet. Once I admitted there was greater depth in my anger than a couple of bad days, I took action. I was tired of being angry. I longed to get along with my husband again. If that meant I needed to take medication for thirteen months to help take the edge off, then so be it. When I realized I no longer needed medical assistance, I discontinued the medication. I made that decision - my doctor didn't make it for me.

I have noticed I do still have a much rougher and harder edge than I had before all of these events, but I am now able to manage those edges on my own. I am now aware of when I am feeling on edge and I have the tools I need to deal with those moods. I do this not only for my benefit, but for those around me. On the other hand, I have also noticed a softer, more emotional aspect to my individuality. At first I was not sure I liked the softer, more vulnerable me, but I have decided that it's a welcome addition to the person I have become.

[i] Wikipedia. Infertility, 2006. Retrieved April 9, 2007 . Sighting source: Domar AD, Zuttermeister PC, Friedman R. The psychological impact of infertility: a comparison with patients with other medical conditions. J Psychosom Obstet Gynaecol. 1993;14 Suppl:45-52. PMID 8142988

Kelly Damron is the mother of twin girls conceived via IVF. She lives in Phoenix, AZ with her husband, Dave, and their daughters. She is an active volunteer with the March of Dimes and RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association. Her book Tiny Toes: A Couple's Journey Through Infertility, Prematurity, and Depression is available at http://www.TinyToesBook.com or Amazon.

# posted by qbnkinw : 10:07 AM