Mental health and faith

People with mental health struggles (depression, panic attacks, OCD, etc.) are often encouraged to pray for God's healing in their struggles.  Pray for joy instead of depression.  Pray for peace instead of anxiety.  Pray for trust instead of fear.  I completely agree that we should pray to God for healing and grace in these areas.

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However, our focus is often on how our faith can positively impact our mental health struggles, and we don't often discuss how our mental health struggles impact our faith.  PPD and intrusive thoughts, specifically, were destructive to my faith.

The scary thoughts I was having on a daily basis forced me to confront "the problem of evil" in a very personal way.  As soon as I gave birth to my first child, I knew that I would do anything to protect her from fear or harm.  So why did God not protect us from all the fear and harm in this world?  Instead of helping me to understand God's unconditional love, having a child actually made me question it.

Happiest robot on the block.

The problem of evil has been one of God's PR problems for a long time, and I know what the correct Christian responses are to these questions.  But sometimes knowing the correct answers don't keep your heart from asking the questions.  Hint:  The correct answers have something to do with "free will" and "It's not about me, it's about God's glory."  Call me crazy, but I'd rather be a happy, little robot than to live in a world full of broken people with free will.  (Unfortunately, have yet to find proof that this world is actually all about me.)

My faith struggles resulted in something that I hope no other Christian has to experience.  I started to fear that God would punish me for my thoughts.  I would lie there at night having waking nightmares about terrible things happening to me or my baby, and I would think, "God is going to punish me for having these fears by making these things come true."  I wanted to fly away, to hide my thoughts from God, but I knew I could not.  Writing these words, I am filled with a deep sense of sadness for how a relationship that was supposed to bring light to my life actually filled me with a dark and dreadful fear.

Although the intrusive thoughts have lessened, they awakened in me an awareness of evil and resulting fear that I have not been able to shake.  The apostle John wrote, "There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.  The one who fears is not made perfect in love."  Oh how I long for the day of my perfection!


Droid Image: Ben Jacobson

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The postpartum trifecta: depression, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts/OCD

As I mentioned previously, postpartum depression often involves symptoms other than depression, including anxiety and intrusive thoughts (my husband would like to add a fourth category called postpartum aggression).  I actually only recently learned the term "intrusive thoughts," prior to which I referred to them as "scary thoughts."  Postpartum intrusive thoughts might include thoughts of your child getting sick, of you doing something to hurt your child, or of someone else doing something to hurt your child

Back when I was struggling with it more, intrusive thoughts would just pop into my mind.  It's not like I was sitting around thinking, "Hmmm, what are all the possible ways my child could be hurt?"  No, I'd be cuddling with my daughter, and all of the sudden the thought of something really terrible happening to her, sometimes at my own hands, would pop into my mind.  It was very disturbing.

I'm not going to go into detail about what my thoughts centered around in case there are any postpartum moms reading this.  Thinking or reading about scary things can actually make intrusive thoughts worse.  I believe my intrusive thoughts were aggravated by me looking at some pictures of POWs from a war documentary book.  Don't ask me what I was doing looking through a war documentary several weeks postpartum.  I'm a very intellectual and well-read sort of person.

In addition to having scary thoughts about things happening to my daughter, I also had scary thoughts of things happening to me.  I would lie awake at night imagining various scenarios of things that put me in a sweat and made my heart pound.

Emma Pillsbury wiping a grape.

My intrusive thoughts were bad enough to affect my behavior.  On the bad days, I wouldn't leave the house because I was afraid something would happen to me or my daughter.  Severe intrusive thoughts can lead to OCD.  The intrusive thoughts are the Obsession, and the Compulsive behaviors are rituals that help you cope with the thoughts.  The classic depiction is of someone constantly washing their hands or cleaning things.  Think Emma Pillsbury from Glee.  But let me tell you that in real life, coping with intrusive thoughts is not cute and fun like an episode of Glee.

I mentioned the intrusive thoughts to my counselor, and she only told me that "thoughts of mortality" are common for postpartum moms but didn't say much more about it.  My husband knew I was having scary thoughts but didn't understand the extent of how much fear they created in me until two years later.  This whole time, I thought my intrusive thoughts were some macabre part of my psyche that had suddenly come out and that it was primarily a spiritual issue.  I didn't trust God enough.  I didn't know His love and was therefore afraid.  I was relieved when I only very recently learned that there is a biological basis to these thoughts.  I'll be sharing more in future posts about my experience with intrusive thoughts, how they affected me spiritually, and other thoughts I have from the experience.

Have you ever battled any of the postpartum trifecta: depression, anxiety, or intrusive thoughts?  What helped you to cope?  I would love to hear from you, so please leave a comment.  If you have questions, please also feel free to leave in the comments.  I will address any questions/comments in the comments or in future posts.

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Postpartum depression and trusting God

The thought that my postpartum anxiety might never go away was a devastating thought to me.  Imagine being anxious about a whole host of things related to your newborn child, and then on top of that, being anxious about the anxiety itself.  Now, you might ask at this point where my good Christian faith was.  And I will be honest.  I did not want to have faith that God would to heal me.

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Notice I did not lack faith that God could heal me.  I never questioned his ability to do so.*  He is all-powerful.  He can do anything.  And that is what scared me.  He could heal me.  Or He could not.  And if I trusted Him for healing but it was somehow part of His comic plan for me to suffer like this for the rest of my life, I don't think I could have handled that disappointment.  So I protected myself and did not let myself hope that things would get better.

I haven't always been such a spiritual cynic.  In the past, I would pray with great faith for others.  You had a falling out with your friend?  I'll pray for love and healing.  You just survived a natural disaster?  I'll pray for emotional healing and the rebuilding of your home.  But in the end, I was still in my nice, cozy bed in my nice, air-conditioned house living my nice, first-world life.  I also prayed through major life decisions.  God, please provide a job for me.  But if I don't get a job, I'll just move back home.  There was always an out in the past.  When it really came time to trust God with my life, I was too scared to.

*I'm not advocating that anyone pray themselves out of postpartum depression.  I believe that God can heal us of anything but that He may use medicine, counseling, or other resources to aid in that healing.

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Postpartum depression: my biggest fear

I consider a counseling session successful if I cry.  It means that we didn't just sit around making small talk about surface issues but that we hit on a topic that is painful to me - the reason I am seeking counseling in the first place.  I distinctly remember two times that I cried during counseling for my postpartum depression and anxiety.

The first time I cried was during my first counseling session.  My counselor asked me what my biggest fear was.  I answered immediately.  It was that my panic and anxiety attacks would never go away.  My answer and the tears that came with it surprised me.

I suspect that for many women, the worst part about postpartum depression/anxiety is not knowing when and if it will go away.  When you are in the midst of it, the pain is so severe and so constant that you can't imagine the possibility of being normal again.  More terrifying than hearing your baby cry, more terrifying than the thought of hurting your own child, and more terrifying than the thought of someone else hurting your child is the thought that there may not be an end to the anxiety that is eating you up.

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Counseling: some frustrations

Even if I never changed out of my pajamas all the other days of the week, I would always do my makeup and wear something cute for my counseling sessions.  I didn't want her to think I was a total loser, even though I was already revealing to her what a dysfunctional mother, basket-case wife, and terrible daughter-in-law I was.  One time we showed up to a session wearing the same shirt from Ann Taylor Loft (different color).  That was a little weird.

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Getting the most out of counseling is difficult for me.  I'm constantly worried about what the counselor will think of me, which makes it hard to be completely honest.  When I would talk about the anxiety I had regarding my in-laws and how I was pretty much blockading them from seeing their one and only grandchild, I couldn't help but think, "She's probably hoping she never gets a daughter-in-law like me."  I tempered myself and never revealed to her the true depths of how anxious I was, how I was afraid to lose my daughter's love to my in-laws, how I wanted to be the only one in her life.  Instead, it became more a conversation about getting comfortable with other people taking care of my kids.  It was helpful but didn't really address the core issue I was dealing with.

Counseling is also very frustrating and sometimes awkward.  I never really know if I'm supposed to just start talking about myself, or if I should let her lead with the questions.  Sometimes I felt like she would ask a lot of questions about a particular issue that was irrelevant to my issues.  Other times I would bait her with something that I thought was perhaps part of my dysfunction (my need for control, for example), but she would gloss over it.  The most frustrating part is that she never really gave me any advice or a diagnosis of any sort and instead would always just ask me how I felt about things.

Me: My husband said that I should be open to the idea of medication if that's what I need.
Counselor:  And how does that make you feel?

Me: Someone suggested that maybe I should just face my fears and start dropping off my daughter with my in-laws on a regular basis.  Then I would see that it wasn't so bad.  (Please tell me that's a bad idea!)
Counselor:  How do you feel about that?

Stop asking me how I feel!  Just tell me what to do!  Yes, I was annoyed that my counselor was trying to get me to explore my feelings.  You definitely don't ever want me as a counseling client.

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Getting help for postpartum depression requires telling someone

I tried to get help from my OB, but it just didn't work out.  Before you have a baby, the nurse gives you all these pamphlets and brochures about postpartum depression, and they even make you sign a form that says you have been educated about it.  I used to work on the financial side of the healthcare industry, and I'm a big believer in preventive health.  So I compliantly went to my six week follow-up visit fully intending to get help for what I was sure was postpartum depression.

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However, when the triage nurse asked me if I was experiencing any signs of postpartum depression, instead of saying, "Yes, I wake up crying every day.  I don't want to get out of bed when my baby cries.  I have panic attacks that start when I wake up and don't end until I go to bed.  I can't breathe."  I said, "Um, I think I might have a little bit of anxiety."  I watched her write "anxiety" on my chart.

My OB then walked in looking at my chart, and cheerily asked me how I was doing.  I beamed at her and said, "Great!  I'm doing just fine!"  She never asked about the "anxiety" written on my chart.  I don't blame my doctor.  She asked how I was doing, and I didn't answer honestly.  She was trained to take care of me physically, and she is extremely competent at what she does.  It's just not easy to come out and say, "I think I have postpartum depression" the way it's easy to say, "I have really bad nausea," or "I think I have hemorrhoids."  I was insecure about a lot of things, and I guess I would feel like a drama queen saying I had PPD.  I was a little afraid that she would say it was nothing, and then I would be really embarrassed.

The way doctors educate and screen for postpartum depression should really be designed by psychologists instead of legislators or whoever came up with the current method.  Instead of making you sign something saying that you received PPD education before you have the baby, they should also give you a short, one-minute quiz a few weeks or months after you have the baby.  I don't know if some doctors already do this, but I'm assuming it's not required by law, since I didn't get any such quiz.  It would be much easier to circle a bunch of yes/no questions than to come out and say "I think I have PPD."

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Postpartum Anxiety

Postpartum depression is a bit of a misnomer. Although PPD is characterized by depression, many women also experience anxiety, intrusive thoughts, or OCD (among other things) when they are postpartum. My own postpartum depression soon turned into a raging anxiety.

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Depression is like being stuck in mud. It slows you down to the point where it’s easier to just lie there than to do anything. It’s like going into involuntary hibernation. Anxiety is the complete opposite. Anxiety fueled by postpartum hormones is like swallowing a sparkler and having those sparks fly around inside of you constantly. Every waking moment is one long panic attack. My heart was constantly racing, breathing always on the verge of hyperventilation. I’m not sure which one is better.

My anxiety was triggered by my in-laws moving to our neighborhood within a month of my giving birth. It was just too much change at once for me to handle. I worried that my in-laws would be over all the time, even though they have always been nothing but polite and genteel when it comes to manners. I worried that I would be responsible for my in-laws’ happiness. They had sold their dream retirement home in another suburb to be near us after we had their first grandchild. I worried that my daughter would love them more than she loved me, and that was the crux of my anxiety. A friend consoled me by telling me that mom would always be at the center of a young child’s life. Even when the circle expands to include more people who love her and for her to love back, mom would still be at the center. I knew it was true, but I was so scared of losing her love that I wanted to be the only one in the circle.

I know...very dysfunctional, co-dependent, and insecure. I was crazy. Crazy in thinking that way, and crazy in my anxiety. However, I’ve come to realize that we’re all a little crazy and dysfunctional, but we’re just too scared to admit it because we’re afraid of what people will think. My best friend and I will often start conversations with, “This is kind of embarrassing, and you’re going to think I’m crazy, but...” I think if we would all be a little more honest about our dysfunction, we’d realize that crazy is actually pretty normal. So maybe my fears about my in-laws were actually kind of normal crazy, but the level of anxiety I felt was truly crazy crazy. I was sure that my body couldn’t sustain the elevated heartrate and shallow breathing much longer. The physical effects of my anxiety were going to shorten my lifespan. So I went to see a counselor.

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Birth begins with loss

With the birth of each of my two children, I went through a mourning period.

I cried for the loss of my marriage when I had my first child. My husband and I were still married and committed to each other, but I knew things would never be the same. People say that your children shouldn’t be the center of your life. But how do you not center your life around your baby when she constantly needs your attention?

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With the birth of my second child, I cried for the loss of the only child relationship I had with my first daughter. When my oldest daughter first saw me in the hospital after having my second, she was hesitant to come toward me. It broke my heart. For the next week or so, I couldn’t look at my first child without crying.

The loss that I felt with each birth was devastating, probably not proportional to what I was actually mourning. I would cry uncontrollably at home and in public. I woke up from sleep crying. I cried during meals. Any sad thought would cause me to break down into tears. But like most bouts of crying, the crying also somehow felt good, like an emotional cleansing. I suppose you can’t welcome something new into your life until you’ve first said good-bye to the old.

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Getting out of bed

I suffered from postpartum depression. I remember the baby’s cries waking me from my sleep. A feeling of dread immediately enveloped my whole body. I knew I needed to get up, but I felt like I had lead weights on my arms and legs. My body was immobile.

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It’s like being in the middle of a dream in the early morning, when you’re half-awake but still mostly in your dream state. A very small part of your consciousness wants to wake up, to move, but you can’t. You try to open your eyes, but they won’t because they’re already open in your dream. You put all of will into opening your eyes, moving an arm, moving something, anything. Finally, with one last shove of effort, you open your eyes, and you’re finally awake. That was the amount of effort it took for me to get up out of bed when my baby cried.

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Finding other moms like you

People often say that raising kids is “the hardest thing you’ll ever do.” I’ve found it to be true but also a gross understatement. When I had my first child, comments like, “It will get better” didn’t offer much encouragement to me. Instead, I took solace from a woman who candidly proclaimed to me (in church), “It was hell the first few months. I hated it.” I wasn’t alone.

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I didn't hate my baby or hate being a mother.  Quite the opposite.  I was in love with my daughter, possibly a little obsessed.  Ok, definitely obsessed (will get to that later).  I hated always feeling inadequate. I hated not being in control.  I hated that instead of becoming a more warm, patient, joyful person, motherhood  had made me anxious, jumpy, and cynical.

Most of my mom friends are the "I <heart> being a mom" type, but there are a handful who are the "I hated it" type.  I leaned on the "I hated it" type more in the beginning, but more recently, I have also found real encouragement and great tips from the "I <heart> being a mom" type.  It's good to have both.

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