I feel crazy. My brain is spinning in 500 different directions and somehow spaced out at the same time. I feel panicky and like I can’t breathe one minute and furious the next. I want to scream and cry and throw things.
Hello, postpartum hormones. It’s awful to see you again.
*Please note that I am not a therapist or mental health expert of any kind. If you are experiencing mood swings or what you believe to be a hormonal imbalance post pregnancy, please contact your doctor.
I don’t remember it being this bad with Lily. Maybe it’s because I was working and had more distractions? I don’t know. I know every pregnancy is different, but man! It feels insane.
Every time (and I’m sorry if this is too much information) I start PMSing, I feel insane, not myself, two-brained, irrational. I lash out and get annoyed by silly things. I slam cabinets and drawers and wonder how the hell I’m going to make it through the day. I frantically search my addled brain for ways to fix (or at least calm) the crazy.
I take a breath, and then I remember what’s happening, that, as awful as it is, it’s only hormones, feelings that, for me, will pass.
I take my placenta pills, (Yes, I encapsulated my placenta. Best decision I ever made. Don’t judge.) and I rub Doterra’s Whisper blend and some lavender on my feet. I text my therapist. I keep breathing. I pray. I kiss my babies.
Mental/hormonal health is such a tricky, slippery thing. It can be really hard to ask for help. It can be really hard to even identify that there’s something to get help for.
For me, I always feel like I’m borderline, like things are awful one minute and could be fine the next. It kind of feels like when you’re trying to decide if you’re too sick to go to work – “I could feel better once I get there…” “I don’t have a fever; am I really sick?” and so on.
For example, I almost asked my husband to come home or called my parents to get them to come over. Almost. But then I thought, if they come all the way here, drop what they’re doing and come to my rescue, what they’ll see on my face is happiness and relief. I won’t look hurt, depressed, or scared. You can’t see my pain or my wounds. I’ll look fine. And I’ll act totally normal because I’ll probably feel more normal by the time they get here.
It’s so confusing, which just adds to the anxiety and makes everything worse.
We were worried about my brain post baby. We were worried because of the downward spiral after (during) all the miscarriages. I was scared about how my brain would react to all the hormonal changes. That’s why I did the placenta thing. With Lily, I never really felt like I needed it. With Tommy, though, I need it. And it helps. So do the oils.
I’m not a witch.
Ugh. If you find yourself here, I’m with ya. I’m sending you hugs and taking deep breaths with you, gripping your forearms and staring into your eyes.
We got this. It will pass. And if it doesn’t, if it even feels like it won’t, then we’ll ask for help. Or we’ll just ask for help now because it never, ever hurts to ask.
It’ll be okay.