Good Moms Have Scary Thoughts

I did not feel depressed and I did not recognize anxiety, so I did not notice my strange thoughts as strange, anxious, or symptomatic for too long.
I kept falling asleep making mental checks of all the electrical I had unplugged or shut off, and then planning, in a sleep-deprived haze, how to get us both out of the house if there was a fire. This went on for nights. These thoughts kept me awake, had me awaken to check and to listen. These thought made my heart beat faster, kept my eyes from shutting, and kept a restless energy under my skin and in my mind which tried in vain to problem solve them.Then, one night, as I followed my plans on how to keep us safe and how to get out of a burning house, my brain brought flames up the stairs trapping us – what if that happened, what would I do?I realized it would be better to drown her than have her burn. I began to imagine drowning her. How I would manage it quickly and with comfort.As I imagined it, I began to feel relief from the intrusive fire thoughts. This made sense. It just began to make sense. I was almost convinced then that it was a matter if time before the house were to burn down and I would have to drown my daughter. I would have to go, too, of course. At an 10 week check up, I mentioned that I was having strange thoughts. I had heard someone call my name the night before; I had yelled out in answer and found no one there. That had me realize that something was going on- something wasn’t quite right.
As I spoke to him, I felt very separate and cut off, like my tiny daughter and I had already left this world, but something within me had enough clarity regarding this voice and the thoughts to mention them.”Sleep deprivation”, he said, “Give it a couple more weeks, come see me if nothing changes.”
That was the wrong answer.

I am currently stuggling with postpartum depression and anxiety. It all hit me when I abruptly stopped Nursing. I had a hormonal crash. It first started with me thinking i was going to die and my son would not have a mother. Then the thoughts spiraled out of control to thinking my mental health would get worse to something more severe like psychosis, schizophrenia, or bipolar and I would be institutionalized and would not be able to take care of my son. I just have thoughts of one day waking up and all of a sudden hearing voices or seeing things. Or just losing my mind and not being able to be there for my son.

I worry every single day that we will be involved in a car crash and we will lose her! This started in pregnancy and still won’t go away! Just love her so much and I feel like we’re too lucky and it will all be taken away from us!

After I stopped nursing my son around 6 months i developed severe postpartum anxiety and depression. It started with me thinking I was going to die and my son would grow up motherless. The thoughts have since spiraled out of control to me thinking I am going to wake up one day seeing things or hearing voices. To me thinking I am going to get schizophrenia or psychosis and end up institutionalized and not be able to be in my sons life. I constantly remind myself that I have none of the symptoms of those disorders by my mind keeps going back to “what if”. Like what if all of a sudden I wake up and I have one of the disorders…

I convinced myself if I asked for help, it meant I was a bad mother. When I started experiencing psychosis, it made it worse. I attempted suicide two months after my daughters first birthday. My youngest is now 3 months and I still have to convince myself needing help is not the same as weak.

I was scared to walk her (my baby). I was afraid I’d leave her stroller somewhere and walk away. I was terrified of becoming those mothers I saw on the news all the time, and I would have nightmares about what everyone would say and do. For the first four months, I was afraid to leave the house because I thought I might.

I desperately need alone time and a break, but images of my baby being neglected in someone else’s care haunts me. I feel like I can’t trust anyone and I really need to take care of myself. I wish that my brain didn’t work this way and I could be normal.

Anytime anyone else (but me) holds my baby, I see flashes of them tripping and her busting her head open. I see her choking on something that she was teething on. I see her drowning if they give her a bath. I see them giving her water instead of pumped milk and it killing her. I see grisly images and flashes of my baby dying, everyday.

I think about giving away my newborn baby all the time. I research how I can put him up for adoption, and if adoption agencies won’t take him, I wonder if my husband’s parents would adopt him. If that doesn’t work out, I sometimes fantasize about leaving him at a hospital. This makes me feel like a terrible mom; who would ever want to give up their baby for adoption? The thought of giving him up for adoption makes me feel relieved and ashamed and guilty at the same time. But I can’t help but think my life and his would be so much better if I gave him away. And yet I know if he did leave my life I would be devastated. I feel so ashamed and alone.

I feel so angry when people tell me, “This will pass.” It feels like they are minimizing the agony I am in. I feel like they don’t believe me when I say “I am overwhelmed. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.” Just because I am functioning doesn’t mean I am okay. I feel the only way anyone will understand how bad I’m feeling is if I check myself into a psych hospital, and then I’ll just be judged. I’m angry at everyone who listens to me say I’m not okay and they don’t help.

I had gory, horrific thoughts about dropping my baby. I’d picture his injuries and be frozen in place, terrified to move in case he slipped out of my arms or I tripped. For months, I couldn’t do laundry without my husband watching him because I was terrified that I’d drop him down the steps.

Every time my husband could freely decide to spend time with mates, work later, assume I was handling things I imagined leaving, with our unborn baby, so he was left with our 11 month old. Then I’d only have to deal with one not two under two and feel so alone.