surrendering to the grief and accepting help

After our loss of Piper, I quickly learned that mental health after pregnancy and loss can change, and it can change fast. Depression doesn't give a warning, and the term is used so loosely, you might not even trust its meaning. The medical professionals around you, who should know and understand, might not understand at all. 

All of the things that you were worried about or didn't cope well with before, they come right to the surface after your baby dies. They may manifest in healthy ways and then sometimes, for some people, they take an ugly turn, transforming your mind into a jumbled mess of irrational thoughts and fears.

Some people get help, some don't… all I could think about was this very small, barely flickering, light inside of me that has been a part of me since birth. That light gave me what little I needed to acknowledge that I was scared, that I had to make that call and ask for help, forgetting about how demoralizing it was to admit it. I remember thinking "I don't wish this on anyone. How do women get help? Someone, just believe me, wrap me up in your arms and save me." 

I finally found a grief counselor who acknowledged my reality and affirmed the steps I needed to take for my safety and mental well-being. I was able to get confident enough to make the decision to take a leave from work for two months, get medication and a psychiatrist that was able to manage it short and long-term. 

And I began to simplify - big time. No more worries about…. well, EVERYTHING.I couldn't do it all, if I kept it up, it was going to kill me and I wanted to still be here in this world, even though I had to figure out how to do it without Piper in my arms.

 My mom cooked meals, did laundry, cleaned kitchen countertops, put the boys to bed at night and picked up the phone every time I was panicking and needed calm reassurance that I was not alone. My husband loved me, shared his admiration for my strength and honesty. My work approved my time off. My friends checked in, the few that really knew what was going on.

When I began to settle into this new reality of self-care and self-focus, as I had never done before, I wasn't freaking out. My mind wasn’t racing second to second, worrying about the next thing.

 I remember asking my husband "Is this depression or is this what life after deep loss teaches us? Acknowledging good moments, slowing down, loving… a hug, sleeping in, exercise, appreciation?"

 When you are strong all your life, you hustle, manage, do the right thing, love deeply, fear irrationally and want the absolute best for everything and everyone. The first person who won't believe you have a mental illness stopping you, potentially endangering you, is yourself. 

You didn't do this to yourself, but you take full responsibility for the position you are in, and you shouldn't. You literally think people will hate you, doubt you or fear you.  You hope for a clear timeframe on when this will end, but there isn't one. Grief and depression are similar, yet different. It is important to know that grief should not be used synonymous with depression, but that they can co-exist. There are times when grief is no longer the only force taking hold of your mind, and it is important to seek medical help.

This journey is scary, but it can also be beautiful. It can open your heart to a deeper understanding of yourself and your purpose in the world. But you cannot do it alone, and you cannot reach these mental and emotional spaces if you also have untreated and unmanaged depression.

There is a light flickering somewhere inside of every bereaved mother, even on the darkest days that flicker is fueled by faint pieces of who we are. That light may be dim, but it can shine brightly again. Let a friend see you, a family member hug you, a professional evaluate you, and let your guiding light show you the way to a peaceful tomorrow - because you are a bereaved mother who is worth it.  

Fighting the stigma of mental illness and post-partum depression. 

Continue reading to learn how you can support someone in your life that is suffering from infant or pregnancy loss