How I Know Postpartum Anxiety Is a Thing

I need to tell you about something. I don’t really like talking about it and I’d rather just pretend it didn’t exist.

I much prefer writing on the other side of messes or at least writing my way out of the mess. I don’t want to write where it’s messy and still messy.

{Deep breaths} Here goes:

In the days following Sam’s birth, I felt icky-anxious-raw.  I couldn’t handle loud noises, I was easily overwhelmed, the chaos I used to live in and be fine with seemed to scream at me—every pile, every misplaced toy, every dirty dish. Even the suspense contained in Jed’s favorite show, Octonauts, was too much for me. I couldn’t turn off that part of my brain that could imagine all kinds of worst case scenarios happening to my kids. I got all weepy and crazy-mom over the passing of time and trying my darnedest to soak up as much of each moment as I could. Time seemed to be a purse-thief and I was holding on and tugging back not wanting him to snatch anything from my hands.

I wondered if it was the aftermath of four subsequent miscarriages and then childbirth that left me with raw, exposed nerve-endings to all my emotions. I felt everything more deeply, more sharply, more loudly.

I’ve experienced the postpartum hormonal crash with each child and told myself that I just needed to survive the next two weeks. Those two weeks went by, and I felt better.

But here’s the thing: it’s been nine months, and I have yet to re-emerge as the Amanda I remember.

I’ve been waiting for it to get all-the-way better. In the meantime, I’ve been watching myself cave into myself.

Anxiety will rob you of your life—it will.

A few months ago, I fought off a panic attack while driving through traffic—so I stopped driving in traffic. I stopped going unfamiliar places.

I had this conversation with an almost stranger and brought up something that made her uncomfortable. I knew it was her issue and not mine and that I handled it with grace and sensitivity. But I couldn’t turn my brain off. It kept replaying that scene over and over. I felt physically ill with this deep down shame and dread. So I stopped small-talking with strangers and resolved to meet no one new.

My husband and I have always enjoyed going to the movies together—it’s like one of our things. And I haven’t been able to do it. I tried once—Star Wars, The Force Awakens. It took all my energy to keep from having a panic attack right there in that theater. When we left, all the tension I had from two hours of flashing lights and loud noises and all the suspense-building typical in action movies, well, it all came tumbling out through my tear ducts right outside the downtown IMAX theater.

I have struggled with anxiety before. In fact, I feel like I might be an expert at smothering a panic attack before I need a paper bag. But since having Sam, I am living here, not just visiting. I’m not the same. I can’t deal with messes or noisy kids or the volume on the television being above three-and-a-half bars. (Let’s watch with subtitles, guys. It’ll be fun. A dose of reading with our watching.)

It’s affected my motherhood, my marriage, and my friendships.

I got my thyroid tested and actually wished for something to be wrong because a thyroid issue just seemed to be a more acceptable problem. My pride can deal with a physical problem with a direct solution. Mental illness is so much harder to talk about.

The test came back negative. So I am over here, praising the Lord that nothing is wrong with my thyroid and refusing to believe that something is wrong with me. My sensitivity shall become my strength. My fears shall be my places of bravery. And maybe for the overwhelming things, like dentist appointments and movie date nights… maybe it’s okay to ask for help with those right now.

I am learning to not compare myself with anyone else. My struggles might not look like your struggles and my victories might not look like your victories, but that doesn’t diminish the strength it takes to overcome. Overcoming is overcoming. Period.

My life is slowed down. I can’t move fast. I’ll break. And as much as I hate to talk about this part because it makes me leak tears: I’ll break others—especially those dearest and closest to me. I have had to say no to the things I really want to say yes to. I’ve taken extra time for things like long showers, books, photography, nature walks, and journaling. I have one ministry, yes, and it’s here writing. And I can’t help but see the holy nod of the Lord. Yes. This is where I want you. Maybe your heart bleeds for other things too, but so does Mine. And I’ve got it covered.

Sometimes all this self-care feels selfish. So, listen to this, because anxiety struggle or not, all the women pouring out to their families and communities the whole world over need to know this: Self-care and selfishness are not the same thing. They’re not. Selfishness comes from a place of longing to puff your own self up for your own self’s sake. Selfishness takes and gives nothing back. Self-care comes from a place of longing to be whole so you can wholly love others. Self-care receives so that it has more to give.

I can tell you that I am making baby steps forward. Therapy has been so helpful. Avoiding fears only makes them bigger and stronger, but small victories lead to overcoming. It might be a slow work, but the rhythm to it is grace.

So, yeah. I have postpartum anxiety. I had no idea it was a thing. It might be a temporary struggle, it might be longer. But I am leaning.

And listen to me, dear sister, I’ve said this before: you might feel all super weak tied up with whatever struggle you are facing, you might feel like you are failing at life. But real strength is really in Christ. You don’t have to be strong enough to overcome. You only have to be strong enough to lean on the One who already overcame. 

Dear anxious heart, lean on Him. And you shall be called an overcomer yet.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers


P.S. In the coming weeks, I will be moving my site to a better program and a better host. It will be a slow process (see post above) and could likely mean a few days of mess on this site. But, if you hate the mobile version of this site as much as I do, hold on. It's gonna get better :)