An Introduction

Postpartum Depression Clinically Defined: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0004481/

Wikipedi defins it thusly;

"Postpartum depression (PPD), also called postnatal depression, is a type of clinical depression which can affect women, and less frequently men, typically after childbirth. Studies report prevalence rates among women from 5% to 25%, but methodological differences among the studies make the actual prevalence rate unclear. Among men, in particular new fathers, the incidence of postpartum depression has been estimated to be between 1% and 25.5%.^[1] Postpartum depression occurs in women after they have carried a child. Symptoms include sadness, fatigue, changes in sleeping and eating patterns, reduced libido, crying episodes, anxiety, and irritability. Although a number of risk factors have been identified, the causes of PPD are not well understood. Many women recover with a treatment consisting of a support group or counseling.^[2][3]
The Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale, a standardized self-reported questionnaire, may be used to identify women who have postpartum depression.^[4] If the new mother scores more than 13, she is likely to develop PPD."

Me, defined:

I am 30 and live south of Boston, Massachusetts. I grew up on an island in a tight kit community with awesome family all around me. I love to cook, be out in nature and do art, I read voraciously, and embrace my geeky nature. My friends and family are my life. I am very goofy, about as graceful as a new born foal or a drunk duck on a greased floor. I am not a small woman, all hips and chest and my husband says I smile with my whole body, especially my eyes.
I have been with my husband eight years, we've been married for three and have an awesome little toddler who will be two this summer. We once went to Ireland because he rolled over and suggested it one morning.
We have moved seven times in our eight years together. We just bought our first house three days after Christmas on my husband's income. It's full of charm and 'character', which is the term he also applied to my mp3 player after it got run over by a car. I love it. It's warm, welcoming and a little weird, just like us. Our super power is making people feel like they've come home.
Husband works ten hour days because of a long commute and to have a third day to be with home with us. I work doing Pampered Chef parties because I love their stuff and cooking centers me. I understand potatoes, sugar and butter and the magical things they can do. They make sense even when nothing else does.
We have two kittens and an eight year old rabbit. It's like having two more toddlers and a well mannered old man who judges me silently from behind his hay.

I have dealt with depression before, once in Jr. High after a school career of constant bullying, then again after a bad break up and dealing with  the transition from a high school of 800 students to a college of thousands. I lost my grandfather to Alzheimer's in the fall, and my other grandmother was forcibly moved to a home when she stopped taking care of herself, which my father hates himself for. My mother had a knee replaced after two failed surgeries didn't heal right in the same window as losing her father and dealing with her mother in law. It's not been an easy six months, even the good things have been highly stressful.

I had taken the a fore mentioned questionnaire at my postpartum checkup and registered at risk. The second time I took it, my score showed no issue because I was having a good day. It didn't reflect how I was at night, and my fear at appearing an unfit parent kept that from taking that into consideration. Each time I filled out that form, it cost me $60 and was not covered my my health insurance.

My family has a shared doctor, who is made of solid win and doesn't blink an eye when I call his office a hundred times over the same cough or fever. He is awesome because he checks on us every time we bring my boyo in for a checkup, and he was the first one to voice concern on my behalf. I was just tired I told him, after all I had a newborn who believe sleep was for weak, uninteresting people and beds for those who didn't appreciate the mammary foam glory that was me. Then I started having post-pregnancy health issues with my thyroid, another issue I had dealt with previously when I had mono. My immune system takes a hit, my thyroid decides to go on strike. So another doctor, another who expresses concern over my energy levels and mood.

But even after numerous breakdowns and self deprecating rants about how I was letting everyone I loved down; my son, by husband, my family, my friends, myself, I still wouldn't admit it was beyond normal new parent stress. My husband finally admitted to me during one of these episodes that he was feeling helpless. "I've watched you get sadder over the past two years, and I don't know what to do." Suddenly all my reasoning for 'sucking it up' (time away from my son, money, I should be able to handle this) became moot, because all my trying to shoulder it alone to protect my family was in fact hurting them.

So I start counseling next week. I am nervous and excited. I want to work on my problems, not just complain and fall apart, but those same issues make me terrified I am a failure and this woman we see it and judge me silently like my stoic, ancient rabbit.

But I give myself the small credit of taking this step anyways, because the only way I am assured to fail is to not try at all, and my beautiful, strange little household- myself included- deserves better than how it has been.

So wish me luck. I hope she doesn't mind the scent of eau de veggie puree and butt paste.