Pagan Parent Confessional: I Had PPD & No One Knew

Full disclosure: I didn't have adequate time or insurance coverage, so I was never diagnosed. This is my assessment of my own mental state after both of my pregnancies, with three years of pre-med college, two years of working in the medical field, and a healthy respect for the fallacies of self-diagnosis.

I plastered on a smile when I went to work every day. I spent most of the day ignoring my co-workers, skipping breaks, and seeing how many days in a row I could get away without speaking a single word to anyone. I maintained a strict daily schedule to be able to get to work on time, wash laundry, and occasionally get groceries.

Speaking of groceries - for nearly five years, there wasn't a single trip to the grocery store that didn't end with me crying in bed for an hour.

Symptoms of PPD

• Anxiety - Like being either terrified or just numb every time I went out in public with my kid(s).
• Depression - A complete lack of motivation to do anything 90% of the time. Habit was my only friend.
• Mood swings - Crying jags, rage, fierce protectiveness.
• Irritability - Oh, yeah. I broke up with my now hubby because I found out I was pregnant again.
• Loss of interest - In people. In activities. In living.
• Thoughts of harming self or the child - Let me be perfectly clear. The first year, for both kids, this was a DAILY thing. Every single day. Either I wanted to be dead, or I had thoughts of hurting my kid(s). Every. Single. Day.

But How Did I Hide It?

Oh, I'm good. See, I'm the ultimate altruist. When I decided to go through with my pregnancies, I formally accepted the obligation to see these children into adulthood to the best of my ability. I literally made an oath.

Because of that, my feelings on the matter didn't matter. I shut the emotions away and made a schedule to keep us going even when I could barely string two words together without sobbing, and that was that. Score one for dissociation.

Years of being an introvert stuck in customer service jobs taught me how to fake a real-looking smile. Compartmentalization allowed me to enjoy brief moments of interaction in the midst of nearly constant emotional self-abuse.

It probably also helped that my friends never visited and seldom called, so how would they know? My parents helped, but got frustrated, and I simply accepted what was offered, seldom even asking for more.

And I just plain didn't speak about my pain. To anyone. If I spoke to anyone at all.

How Did I Get Through It?

Well, one could argue that I didn't. I still have flashbacks and crying jags over this stuff, which is now close to 8 years gone. I can't talk about it without feeling guilty because 1) I chose to keep my kids, 2) I actually do love my kids, 3) I was never diagnosed, and 4) nothing bad actually happened.

Secondly, I reached out once, to one person, and he responded. After my second was born, I found myself struggling once more. And I realized I missed him. I talked to him online and looked for signs that he'd grown a bit - I really couldn't tell you if he had or if I'd just been hoping - and I offered to let him move in with me.

I have since been slowly working with the pain - shadow work, the never-ending cycle of shadow work. I occasionally find a new detail or depth that I'd missed. And it all comes up again.

Mostly, I just feel disappointed. I feel cheated about my pregnancies, about my birth experiences, about my kids' infancy. Like, I could have enjoyed all of them more, if only...

So What?

So... help new mothers. It doesn't have to be much. Visit for an afternoon. Take her a meal. Hold the baby while she showers. Call. Talk to her about her, not the baby. So many women feel like their identities are overwhelmed by their new role as baby's mom. Visit again.

Even a new mom who doesn't have PPD needs these connections. Someone to listen to them. Someone to help them remember themselves. Someone to care about them.

This is sacred work. This is caring for the newly born Mother. This is mourning the Maiden's passing. This is celebrating life cycles in all their dirty, messy, chaotic, natural state. This is community and priest/essing.

This is Paganism.

Parenting Minutia & Parenting Goals

It is really easy to get caught up in the little things.

Yes, we should stop and enjoy the little things, like snuggle piles, inside jokes, and bad 80s family movies. But that's not what I'm talking about here.

I'm talking about the micromanaging, the over-scheduling, the nitpicking. And I'm not judging. We all do it, at times. We all get stressed about things and over-reach with our time. We all want to make a good impression at the family reunion or going out to a nice dinner. We all feel that pressure.

That's fine. Don't beat yourself up over that. But also, don't make that your parenting focus.

There are entire articles dedicated to informing pregnant women how to get on a wait-list for a preschool, which feeds into an elementary school, which feeds into a high school, which virtually guarantees an Ivy League acceptance letter. It's really hard to see that and not think, holy canoli, am I denying my kid by not pursuing this?

The short answer is no.

The long answer is nooooooo. And there are studies to prove it.

The kind of parenting that focuses on such little details is often called helicopter parenting. Over-scheduling, micro-managing, etc, are characteristics of a controlled type of family life, which allows little to no room for error. Not for the kids, not for t
he parents.

While it certainly can relieve the anxiety surrounding parenting in a high-pressure society, it actually can harm the kids. Not in a violently abusive way, but in a subtle, undermining way.

See, kids need to learn to be people. That's what their job is. It isn't to check off a bunch of boxes on their way to a graduate degree. It's to develop the skills that will serve them for the rest of their lives.

The ironic thing is that teaching that is actually considered a more "lazy" form of parenting.

Letting your toddler explore the playground - and possibly scrape her knee - teaches that a bit of pain isn't the end of the world. Yes, comfort her, but don't try to save her. She'll just learn that she needs to be saved.

Letting your kids roam the neighborhood (to the degree that it is reasonably safe) with other kids teaches them to form and navigate relationships, and to get creative with their play. Bonus: you can talk to them about their day, because you weren't there the whole time, and give them advice if they seem to be having trouble with someone.

Demanding chores is a big one. I am not a maid. It's never been a fun thing for me. Satisfying, sometimes, but never pleasant. My kids do chores because they live here, too. My husband and I still do the lion's share, but they can rotate laundry, put dishes away, vacuum, and even cook - quite a bit.

Because of this, they often express satisfaction and pride in what they can do. Don't get me wrong, they still complain a lot when it's time to do the work, but they know they can do it, and that makes them feel like they can do other things, too. Plus, I won't be getting calls from college because they don't know how to run a washing machine.

So, how did I get here? How do I stay on course when social pressures are getting to me?

I decided a long time ago that my only goal as a parent was to produce an adult that was as successful and independent as their physical and mental abilities would allow. I revisit this idea often, reminding myself that I've seen grown men who outsource their laundry because washing clothes was a "girl's chore" or people who have to spend more money on food because they can't even make grilled cheese or spaghetti. And I don't blame them, entirely.

Parents need to teach their kids to be good adults, first by learning basics with supervision, then by taking on more and more responsibilities for themselves. And responsibility is a very Pagan quality.