Postpartum Depression

1. What is your daughter's name? Or what name do you want to use for her this book? Do you want to use your true name? How about your husband and other important characters?
2. What was your life with baby like? Is this an accurate depiction?
   Chapter One
   The Guilt
   "Women have been delivering babies since the beginning of time. If they all did it, so can you."
   I don't know why I expected any compassion from him this morning. It wasn't different from any other. I sat hunched over on the bed, cradling my baby's small head in my hands. I stared blankly down at her as she cooed and reached up for my face. I didn't say another word as my husband finished dressing and exited the house for the day.
   I couldn't tell you how long I sat there in that bed. It may have been only ten minutes before my baby started fussing and needed a change of pace. It may have been two or three hours. As she began to squirm and make faces, I quickly set her next to me and groaned. Then she started crying. I shook my head, feeling instantly overwhelmed. The sound was so loud, so grating. I hid my face under the blankets, covered my ears, and let the hot tears roll down my cheeks.
   As I squinted my eyes shut, a vivid picture of my mother's face flooded my mind. Always smiling, always happy to be a wife and a mother. Guilt overtook my body. I writhed and let out a dry sob, baby still crying over my anguish. If my mother were here, this wouldn't bother her, the voices in my mind began hissing again. She would take care of your child better than you could. She would know what to do.
   The guilt spurred me out of bed. I grabbed the crying child hastily and held her tightly to my test. "Shhh--shhh--shhh," I whispered commandingly. She didn't listen, of course.
   We made our way to the baby changing table in the next room. I set the crying child down quickly on the changing table, relieved to have her out of my arms. Her big brown eyes welled with tears and her tiny fists balled up. I opened the drapes above the changing table, taking a deep breath and trying to calm myself. The sun was burning in the sky now.
   I began diapering the baby, trying to ignore her skinny kicking legs pounding me in the stomach. The dirty diaper came off, but as I tried to snatch it and roll it up, she stuck her foot directly into the mess. I grabbed her leg angrily and roared.
   "WHY?" I bellowed. The three-step process had become a ten-step process once again. I rolled up the diaper, grabbed a washcloth, sprinted to the tap to wet it, and ran back to screaming baby before she fell off the table. I cleaned up her foot with the warm water and she finally began to calm down. Her big brown eyes stared intently into mine. She gave me the tiniest gummy smile.
   The tears started flowing again. The guilt was unbearable. "I'm sorry," I whispered hopelessly. I picked up my daughter and held her close. I cried on her warm bare body.
   Looking back, the guilt was truly the worst part of it all. The guilt made the cycle continue. The voices in my head told me I couldn't be a good mother, that it was too late to be a mother like my mother or my friends were. I believed that just about anyone could be a better mother than I was to my beautiful, perfect daughter. I couldn't forgive myself for the sadness, the anxiety, the anger. I couldn't forgive myself for my apathy that began the moment she was born.

Notes for chapter one:
She took care of her, did a good job the first two months, kept raising her. She didn't know she had PPD. She was hoping to die, crying every day. She knew something wasn't right. She didn't ask for help.
***Research about PPD and what women generally experience
Even in her best moments she was always thinking about how she was feeling GUILTY all the time, because her daughter deserved the BEST FAMILY. She gave her daughter this life in the US to give her an amazing education beyond average
Father did everything but I couldn't. The guilt was eating me. Lasted for 11 years.

Chapter Two
The Delivery
The pregnancy and delivery
Notes for chapter two: Wonderful pregnancy
78 hours delivery hospital so difficult, told my husband that he needed to make a decision because they only thought one of them would survive
half-dead
Please save the baby
She immediately didn't want to touch her.
The doctors were young they didn't notice anything
She had picked a new hospital

Chapter Three
The Divorce
A little bit more about yours and your husband's relationship, and how he hurt you during your time of desperation. Story of you having the courage to leave your husband and how you truly believed it was him who was causing all of your problems
Notes for chapter three: They didn't have good communication. Made her feel worse. He said people deliver people all the time, figure it out
Trauma started from when she met the husband at 16. His family did not want the relationship. HIs mother was very brutal on me. She never wanted to be in that family
I knew it, I was 100% sure it was his fault. I was so tired and I needed help and he couldn't hear me. I was voiceless. Women have kids all the time. What an IGNORANT response. Nobody cared. I didn't have any more strength to bring it forth from anywhere.
Isolated
Eventually they got separated--3 years later

Chapter Four
Exploring and Suffering
In between your divorce and second marriage: your experience with alcohol and your relationship with the drug user
Notes for chapter four: They had an agreement that they were going to raise her together, coming in three times a week, cooking for them, whenever she felt like it. Sometimes she would go 3 months without getting out of bed. The sun was not shining for her. She had no idea. She tried turning to alcohol for a little bit but it didn't work very well for her.
Later on she got involved with someone codependent on drugs, at that time he was clean. When he started going back to drugs, she couldn't take his pressure. What am I doing with this person? In the mirror. He's not adding any value to my life. I looked in the mirror. I left. I kicked him out first and then I left.

Chapter Five
Slow Understanding
Your new marriage and how you had the exact same problems, and began to realize maybe there was something inside you that was causing a problem
Notes for chapter five: She couldn't be what everybody wanted her to be--everyone was so happy, excited. She didn't have energy to get out of bed. She didn't like her life, herself, nothing. She started going to church, doing everything she could do to help, and nothing helped. She didn't realize that she had PPD until 10 years later
Find another husband who treat me better, but he doesn't treat me any better. She thought the problem might have been THEM, can anybody understand me? Something is missing but nobody understands ME. Every kind of personal development program, even the ones she couldn't pay for. She was desperate and had no one to count on.
One friend could talk about it she was going through something similar. She desired to leave her husband and she couldn't. But I had courage and I could do that. But then the regret started to kick in, 8-10 years later. Why did I leave my husband? He was a good man, a good provider, a good husband… regrets that will follow her until the last day of her life… shame… GUILT.

Chapter Six
Fates of Friends

1. Story of your friend who relied on PPD drugs and is still dependent on them to this day
2. Story that your ex-husband girl about the woman killing herself and her dog
   Notes for chapter six: Friend took medication, she has to continue.
   One side I feel bad not seeking help and the other hand I'm glad I didn't. Heavy drugs that I would be dependent on the rest of my life.
   I know people who had baby blues, I wanted to harm myself. But I didn't have the courage to harm myself. Because of my religious background.
   PPD her friend killed herself and her dog after having her third child in an affluent family. Her husband did not believe that she had this until he learned about this.

Chapter Seven
Conclusion
Research about PPD, your final thoughts and regrets, your advice to anyone else suffering out there.
Notes for chapter seven: Accumulation of everything that almost killed me. Finished me.
My memoir, something that's SO important to me. This can be a great healing therapy for me. I still wish I could go back on time and all that. This is for ME. This is MY struggle, my life.
I'm always trying to paint a prettier picture than what it was Valerie Jambrovic