I questioned myself daily. Am I that mom? The mom that cries all the time. The mom that love, love, loves her babies, but at the same time felt like they were a burden. I had changed. Maybe it was because I had triplets. I hear raising one baby is hard, let alone three at once. Maybe it was because I was already an anxious, nervous person. I just snapped.
It was Christmas time. JH&S were almost 10 months old. They were beginning to crawl. They were learning new things every day. They were happy and healthy. And I was sad. I cried. A lot. The previous 7 months had been more than difficult for me. Matt and I were fighting more than ever. I hated that he got to “get away” at work while I stayed home every.single.day. I was jealous. Let’s just say he was less than understanding. I am a woman who loves routine, but the days just repeated themselves over and over again. It was more than I could handle. Some days I felt like I was slowly dying, being punished for all the wrong I had done in my past. I loathed the thought of changing one more diaper, giving one more bottle, getting puked on again. So I packed up the babies and drove 2 hours home. I needed my family. I needed change.
It felt good. Being away helped clear my mind of all the negativity. I felt like I could breathe again. For the first time in a long time I felt calm. Going home helped me remember who I was before. And I didn’t want to leave. But, the day came. It was time to go back home. Back to the place resented. Back to the same thing day in and day out. I cried and cried and cried.
It just got worse. I couldn’t handle the babies crying. I screamed. I yelled. I just lost it. It was like an out-of-body experience. I could see myself being this awful, crazy, loud, ugly woman to my children, but I couldn’t make it stop. I said things to 11 month old babies that should never be repeated. I just spit these disgusting words from my mouth all the while my mind is telling me to “shut up you insane woman!” I was mean. And I scared my babies. I saw fear in their eyes. And that broke my heart. I cried, and cried, and cried.
By February I was at my breaking point. I was just so tired. I cannot even begin to explain to you how physically exhausted I was by then. I felt like I could collapse at any minute and never wake up again. I hated myself, my husband, my in-laws, and even my sweet babies. I just wanted to run away. I was done. That was it. Over. I cried, and cried, and cried.
And then it happened. Everything and everyone around me exploded. I was yelled at. I was called crazy. I was told to get it together. I was told that “I was the one that wanted babies” so I needed to suck it up and be their mother. I was being ganged up on and it did not feel good. I hid in my closet. I cried, and cried, and cried.
Exhaustion, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and postpartum depression were my diagnoses. I was put on Prozac. It helped to calm me, but also made me feel confused. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t clear my head. Then I tried Lexapro. I felt immediate relief. I could breathe. I could see so clearly it was like I saw my babies for the first time again. I’m not saying that I don’t still lose my shit now and again. I do. Sadie is a serious whiner. Jase likes to pester his sisters until they lose their shit. And Henley is needy. And when all three of these things are happening at the same time I can freak out. Lexapro is not a cure all. It helps me to calm myself better and to not get so overwhelmed. I know the stigma that comes with taking an anti-depressant. I used to think negatively of them also. Believe me when I say that I didn’t want to be that mom. But, honestly that is who I have become. It won’t always be this way. For right now though, they have helped me tremendously.
If you’re feeling even remotely what I felt I urge you to talk to your doctor. Don’t be ashamed. Don’t be afraid. Get the help you need. Your babies need you.