Post-partum depression is (sometimes) bullshit. I believe this so much that I’m repeating the headline.

I included the “(sometimes)” part because I’m sure that some women really do get clinically depressed after having a baby. I don’t want to devalue their experience: I’m sure it’s legit and very tough, and I’m glad there are resources out there to help these mamas.

That said, I know lots of women who are unhappy after having a baby — downright sad, miserable and gloomy, who might even regret getting knocked up in the first place, and these mamas don’t necessarily have clinical depression. They’re just HUMAN BEINGS who have experienced something traumatic, their life has changed irrevocably, and they continue to be tortured by sleep deprivation, physical trials and natural hormonal imbalances.

Having a baby can be a super shitty experience, from the pregnancy experience to the birth and right on through the child-rearing stages.

I was downright miserable for at least 18 months after Isaac was born. It’s not his fault: he was/is a great kid. I just hated being responsible for a baby.

Actual conversation from 2014:

WELL-MEANING FEMALE COUSIN: “Aw, look at him! You must be loving every minute.”

HEATHER: “Actually, no, this is hell and I’m living a nightmare. The only reason I’m laughing right now is because I’m exhausted.”

I’m naturally a positive, optimistic person and so I thought to myself, “don’t be so gloomy. Focus on the happy moments.” So I designated a “Happiness Jar” and told myself I’d write down every happy moment and put the slip of paper into the jar. I found that jar when we moved two years later: there were three slips of paper inside it. Three happy moments in one year. Yep, that sounds about right.

I was not, at any time, depressed. I’ve been depressed before. I ate Prozac for eight years in my twenties. I understand the kind of depression that motivates self-harm and suicide and self-medication. I was never depressed as a new mom, and so “post-partum depression” does not describe what I felt.

Any human being, even trained soldiers, can crack when sleep deprived. That is why it’s a method of torture.

And yet we tell new mamas they are “sick,” they’re not “normal” new moms, if they aren’t happy caring for their babies. They are labeled with “post-partum depression,” when many of these struggling moms (most of them?) are just human beings in new, very trying circumstances.

I didn’t realize how angry this all made me until my very good friend was told by her doctor that she had post-partum depression. I know depression, and I’ve even seen this friend clinically depressed, and PPD was not the right diagnosis.

This doctor had never had children, so maybe she can be sorta forgiven for her ignorance, but still.

New mamas are vulnerable to judgement. Maybe we’ve never changed a diaper before, or held a newborn, or are just figuring out how to breastfeed. It seems unforgivably cruel to me to then tell this vulnerable new mama that she is not “normal” or healthy because she’s struggling emotionally. That she’s mentally ill with depression.

The one good thing about my friend being “diagnosed” with PPD is that she started to see a counsellor, which I think is almost always a good thing because it helps to talk about stuff. AND, because she had counsellor’s appointments, she got a little break from taking care of her baby. Awesome. About time.

There aren’t many issues in this world that get me angry. But I’m often tempted to take on post-partum depression.

I want a world where it’s okay to say: “Wow, this is really tough. I’m having a hard time with this new mom thing. Babies are so goddamn needy and I’d love to have a shower, drink a hot tea and read a book like a normal person,” and then your doctor would hook you up with a great respite program and book you into the spa. They wouldn’t respond with: “There’s something wrong with you. You’re sick. Most moms don’t feel this way.”

I call bullshit.

[Note: Isaac is about to turn four years old. The older he gets, the more I like and LOVE him. I’m finally experiencing that “whole heart” ache of love that some baby moms describe. Motherhood got infinitely better for me after about 18 months, and I hope all mamas who struggle with the baby years find their own groove eventually too.]