New Motherhood: New Identity?
Becoming a Mother involves a great transformation of identity. Dormant traits rise up, and familiar characteristics sink below the surface. With my first two children, I experienced personal growth in some areas, and crumbling in others. Key parts of my identity were whittled down or stripped away. My ideas changed as who I thought I would be as a mother were replaced by less pretty realities. But despite the changes, I maintained my core identity of being a kind, understanding person with an appreciation for art and nature. I was still bright, still a problem solver.
After the birth of my third child I experienced an emotion I had never felt before: Terror. It did not descend all at once, but crept in during the year following his birth.
It began with feelings of anger and frustration. Everyday bumps in the road felt like catastrophes. I was constantly rolling my eyes and sighing with irritation. I would not have allowed other people to yell at my children the way I was doing. This brought with it great shame and self-judgment.
As time went on, I began to have trouble concentrating and remembering. I had to leave myself notes to Eat Breakfast and other everyday tasks that shouldn't require a second thought. I once thought to myself , "Why is that woman waving at me like she knows me?" Hours later I slowly remembered that we had met multiple times before.
Over time, my identity changed to the point that it no longer felt like me. I thought that there had to be some physical explanation for this. I researched brain tumors, neurological diseases, thyroid problems. I tried everything I could think of to feel better: accupuncture , healthy eating, an antidepressant, supplements, martial arts; on and on. Each thing seemed to provide a fraction of relief, but only briefly.
As I got worse, the minutes would drag on so that surviving one hour felt like the feat of the century. Other days the time would slip by, and how did it get so late, as I didn't even get my coat off yet or make dinner? I still had to pee! Could it possibly be bedtime for the kids? This was terrifying.
My exhaustion became debilitating. Each day was a race to make it to the kids’ bedtime, when I could collapse into bed. At night I did not have the energy to fill my pillbox correctly or even plug in my cell phone. My husband described me as "listless" at the time.
Eventually, the anger I felt turned into rage. My irritation turned to a physical sensation of agitation. My thoughts were filled with irrational hatred towards almost everything. I felt like I was losing my mind. I felt the terror of not feeling like myself or knowing who I was. I no longer felt kind or understanding. Once at the top of my class, I was no longer smart. I wanted to live, but I could not stand living in my body. When I tried to tell people about my concerns, their cheerful reassurances only made me realize they could not comprehend what I was going through.
Having 3 kids seemed too much for me with all the details to manage: grooming, meals, homework, sports, not to mention keeping track of library day, hot lunch day, spirit day... My secret fantasy was to lie in a hospital bed with brief visits from my children and husband.
Nearly a year later a friend recommended the Postpartum Progress website. When I read things like "symptoms include rage", I began to cry with relief. This meant I was not alone. I went from thrashing around in a dark sea with my head underwater, to having a point of light to focus on. If this was postpartum depression it needed a new name. Something to capture the disintegration, the terror, the trauma, the drowning feeling of hopelessness and helplessness. Recovery has been slow and involves being knocked underwater again and again. Medication helped me reach a turning point, and taking care of myself through time, baths, hobbies and friends is essential.
I now feel I have my identity back. I have some of the old me, as well as the continued transformation motherhood brings. I am here. I enjoy things again. The terrible buzzing in my head is usually gone. That is enough.
