Kristen Wicker
We live in a culture in American society that sits at a paradoxical crossroads for women. We are sitting at a precipice, dangling mothers off of a steep cliff as a sacrificial offering. We hold women captive in a space with no out in sight. A space that is completely unrecognizable to her.
Once she arrives, she looks for the landmarks she thought may meet her in this space. Instead she finds isolation, loneliness, a new version of self that she’d rather not claim. She lives a cavernous life that slowly swallows her whole, consuming the remaining remnants reminding her of who she once was.
She weeps in despair at watching each piece of herself be consumed by a fire that she never knew would come for her. She sits in shame while the fire consumes all parts of her because she was told she would be experiencing the greatest, most exhilarating high of her life in this space. Yet she feels as if she is experiencing death as she cradles her new baby.
She has faithfully and sacrificially carried and grown a child — arguably, the epitome of woman. She has soared in her unbridled fearlessness and roaring power as she delivered a human being Earthside from the very body that stitched together, piece by piece, this child of God. Yet here she sits in all of her wonder and glory, crying out to be delivered from her circumstance. How could this be?
She prepared for a season of feast. A life celebration and family cohesiveness that persists beyond that of the arrival of her new baby. A welcoming into her new life as a mother where she could find refuge to heal her body and mind, and find oneness in the physical with her baby.
The first three days after having her baby, the visitors poured in. She desperately wanted sleep. And even more desperately, she wanted to slip into a cozy hideaway and cradle her new baby. Yet the world told her otherwise. She would see every visitor that wanted to catch a glimpse of her baby. She would rework her nursing schedule to accommodate each of them. They would want to hold her new baby and ask for all of the intimate details of bringing her baby into this world. She was told this is her being loved and supported. So she watched her baby be held by others when all she really wanted was to slip into a cozy hideaway and cradle her new baby. It felt deeply strange to have others hold her baby in front of her. She tried to enjoy each visit, but, at times, all she could think about was how much longer until they left so she could have her baby again. And she was so tired.
She struggles with bone crushing exhaustion. Her emotions rule her every move as tears fall effortlessly and relentlessly. What is happening to me, she wonders. They say I’m supposed to be happy. She struggles with knowing if he is eating enough. Is he latching correctly? It hurts so badly. Surely I’m not doing it right. Breastfeeding must not be for me. I am broken. After all, this is natural. It is supposed to be easy.
Her husband does his best to see her. He is missing her, though. And she desperately needs to be seen. Where is her refuge? She lives inside a warm house, yet she sits alone, outside in the cold, waiting to be met. With each passing day she loses a new piece of herself. She is quickly becoming consumed by her thoughts, her despair, the relentless needs of her precious baby, and the loneliness. The soul usurping loneliness. She knows she is slipping away. But where is she slipping away to? Who can help me, she quietly whispers to herself through her tears.
Some days she fights against the current with all of her might. She is a warrior. She will not be consumed by the darkness that sits before her seeking to devour her. She loves her baby with every fiber of her being. She wonders why she can’t get it together like every other mother. She does her best to keep the war within far from sight. What would they think of her? No loving, deserving mother has moments of wishing they could take it all back. To have moments of wishing she never got pregnant at all — She curses her cruel, undeserving heart.
As the time slips away, so does she. She becomes a connoisseur of masquerade. Most of the time, she takes care of her baby well. Other times, she thinks it may be the most loving choice to run away and leave everything. She daydreams of a life with no baby. A life where she is whole again. A life with freedom. A life like it used to be with her husband, and her friends. Oh, the shame and guilt. It was a race for which would consume her first — the fire that was after her or the shame and guilt lacing her every thought.
She might be a woman that cooks dinner faithfully every evening, or she may lie paralyzed in her bed with hot, streaming tears. She may post darling mom and baby pictures on Instagram and Facebook, and enshrine baby pictures with heart emojis. She may appear well, or a bit tired. But she is dying a slow death trapped inside this space society has created for her. Every mother experiences a corner of the space, others are swallowed whole.
As a society, as family units, as health care professionals, we do not meet mothers in this space. Instead we cruelly strip them down. The stripping down begins during pregnancy and persists. They are compromised, and ill-equipped women on delivery day. They are sold a story that will never be. We sell them a fallacy, an alter reality that’s not the space they walk in to. And after we dangle them from the cliff, there is no one to catch them below. No safety net prepared. They must wrestle with their healing, birth experience, role as mother, going back to work, pumping, prepping diaper bags and bottles, and leaving their baby, in utter exhaustion. Leaving their baby. The fire is all consuming as it rages on the inside of her. Yet, she suffers quietly.
She is replete in body and soul. Her body has just completed the most incredible, awe-inspiring and consuming job of her life. And often she has minimal support, a tired and weak body that needs rest and healing, and an overwhelmed soul that is desperate for reprieve.
For some women, this spiraling is Postpartum Depression (PPD) . Postpartum Depression has recently gained more real estate in the birth world among health care professionals, but the response is still woefully underweighted. Women do not merely need a checklist of questions at their 6 week postpartum checkup to screen for PPD. Most women, under the rule of guilt and shame will repeatedly withhold the full scope of their truth. The weight of shame and guilt is too great to admit that they are less than anything but elated in this space. So they move through their postpartum check up appointment completing another flawless masquerade just as they did the day before, and just as they will do tomorrow.
The postpartum mother needs to be held. Yes, held, in refuge. For her body to be given nourishment and love while resting in a safe place where she is free to slip into a cozy hideaway with her baby, or hand her baby to a loving support so she is able to reconnect with herself and walk into reprieve that is not laced with guilt and shame.
We lie to new mothers today. We tell them they can have it all, and should do it all. And then we leave her to do it all, alone. And the fire comes for her, faithfully. It seeks her out and ravages her in a quiet painful death until she is unrecognizable.
It is in this space that we are changing the future for women, children, and families. When a woman is not able to bond and hold her baby as God has designed, her milk supply will suffer. (4) Her baby’s brain growth is altered. (3) The baby’s microbiome is changed. (1) The marriage can struggle greatly, (5) and possibly not be able to withstand the weight. The mental health of the mother is at significant risk. Her relationships can suffer. Her other children may suffer. Families need a strong, healthy, equipped, and well loved mother. This, she cannot do for herself. She needs her people. Her village. Her tribe. She needs to be carried to the other side.
When we don’t carry carry mothers in this space a mother can find herself walking through Postpartum Depression ( PPD). According to the National Institute of Mental Health, “With postpartum depression, feelings of sadness and anxiety can be extreme and might interfere with a woman’s ability to care for herself or her family. Postpartum depression is a mood disorder that can affect women after childbirth. Mothers with postpartum depression experience feelings of extreme sadness, anxiety, and exhaustion that may make it difficult for them to complete daily care activities for themselves or for others.” (2)
However, the postpartum period is a critical time for any mother, regardless of her support level. There are many identified factors that are thought to increase the odds for some mothers to suffer from PPD. This is not something that only affects those without support systems in place. This can affect any mother at anytime during her postpartum period. The mother is not seen as having had adequate time for the body and mind to recover until her baby is up to two years old, with brain changes from pregnancy still being present in mothers two-years post birth. (6) This sits in stark comparison to what society attempts to demand as status quo for recovering postpartum mothers with a mere 2-6 weeks. Additionally, the effects of PPD are not linear, they are circular in nature. They can hold long-term implications for her baby through critical and sensitive periods of development. (7) In carrying the mother, you are carrying the child.
Love her. Love her with grit and authenticity reveling in her wonder. If God has placed her on your path, love her boldly with your God given gifts. She has been placed before you with divine intention. This is God’s circle of beginning to end in love. To serve a mother that God chose and used as a vessel to knit together His child, piece by piece, is nothing short of an honor. She bore God’s power and miracle. She is remarkable. She is awe-inspiring. She is fierce. She is fragile. She is vulnerable. She needs refuge and desperately needs to be carried.
If you would like more information about PPD please follow the link below. Postpartum Depression claims the minds, spirits, and, sadly, some of the physical bodies of mothers all around the world. Let’s be a people that not only loves and serves boldly, but uses our voice even if we’re standing alone.
https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/postpartum-depression-facts/index.shtml
- https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4681407/
- https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/postpartum-depression-facts/index.shtml
- https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/infant-touch/
- https://breastfeeding.support/why-skin-to-skin/
- https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1595131/
- https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2016/12/pregnancy-resculpts-women-s-brains-least-2-years
- http://reseauconceptuel.umontreal.ca/rid=1232568877298_1485239619_21983/Maternal%20depressive%20symptoms.pdf
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