As a young girl growing
up on Guam, I had a great fondness for family and knew that one day I’d probably have my own children. My vision of
being a parent was shaped by media portrayals of what a family looks, feels and behaves like, and at the time, I did not know
that we each create our own reality of what a family is. I assumed that one day, I would be happily married, with a stable
income, a home, and then have children. As a teenager, I struggled with low-level depression that would come and go. Hiding
this part of me had become my specialty. Most people would have described me as a generally upbeat and positive person who
seemed to bounce back from just about anything. It seemed as though that was just who I was, that I would always be on-and-off
depressed, wallowing in self-pity, while feeling angry and resentful toward the world. It never occurred to me that I was
unconsciously making the choice to be depressed about what ever it was I felt that way about. It never occurred to me that
if I did not want to feel that way, only I could make the changes to allow my happiness.
During my senior
year of high school, I was involved in a relationship that ended in drug-related domestic violence. I learned a lot about
strength and humility, and what I did and did not want in a relationship. Certain standards that were held had been broken
down, and new ones built. My true sense of worth was gradually evolving. Not too long after, I was in another serious relationship.
In retrospect, I don’t think I had given myself enough time to rediscover my true self before jumping into another codependent
partnership. Taking a huge risk, I left my life and family on Guam to move to California with my partner and attend school
there. Less than a year later, we discovered that I was pregnant with our first child. At the time, I was overjoyed, fearless,
and yet terrified all at the same time. I thought to myself, “What am I thinking? I’m so young! I don’t
have experience with babies, but I know I can do this. It feels so right. But I’m scared.”
The pregnancy was fairy
uneventful, in the physical realm. Emotionally, I was a wreck. Blaming the hormones, my moods would jump all over the place.
I’d be laughing and feeling giddy one moment, and then crying about something the next moment. Assuming this was normal,
I didn’t think much of it at the time, except that it drove me nuts. With my tendency toward a natural approach to life,
I did a lot of research, soul searching, and talking with other women about natural childbirth options. After extensive reading
and communicating with other women, I made the life-changing decision to have a homebirth, without the assistance of a midwife
or doctor. Few friends and family were supportive of this decision, but in my heart, I knew it was the way for my baby to
come into this world. My partner was totally supportive of the decision, though he was preoccupied with the pressure to get
a stable income going for our family. We struggled with unemployment, lack of communication, and we also moved to a new apartment
toward the end of the pregnancy, which proved to be extremely stressful. Depression reared its head often.
The birth of our first
son went fairly smoothly, though there were many moments of fear, anxiety, and confusion. The labor lasted about nine hours,
and Every was born into his father’s arms in the privacy of our home. I experienced some hemorrhaging, but managed it
just fine by laying down, drinking a lot of fluids, and swallowing a small piece of the placenta once it was birthed (the
placenta is remarkable in its ability to restore many of the nutrients and hormones that drop dramatically in the mother after
its birth). My body was sore and exhausted. After the initial bliss and surrealism of the birth faded, I seemed to spontaneously
fall into dramatic highs and lows of postpartum depression. At the time I did not see this at all, it seemed like normal hormonal
postpartum issues. Over the next several months, things just intensified, the highs were higher, and the lows even lower.
When Every was about five months old, I knew that I needed return to Guam, where I hoped the support of friends and family
would improve my situation. My partner did not want to move, but reluctantly did so anyway. We arrived on Guam when Every
was six months old. My parents allowed us to stay with them while we figured out what we were going to do. This was a challenging
time, but things seemed hopeful. A great job opportunity came up for my partner a week after we arrived, and he took it. Fruit
of the Womb, my new home-based business retailing gift baskets and cloth diapers to new moms and their families, was created
in between juggling the demands of an active infant. I also got involved in helping to start a non-profit organization to
provide empowering resources and information to new and expecting families. It seemed like I was finding myself again, getting
back into a groove. We moved into the downstairs apartment of my grandmother’s home, and finally had our own space.
Just as we were getting
situated in our new residence and my new venture, we discovered that I was pregnant with our second child. This time, I felt
ambivalent, wavering between excited and extremely worried about the near future. I was excited about Every having a sibling
to play with, another person to love and get to know, to share a life with. However, I was even more worried about the toll
it would take on my body, trying to give constant attention to a toddler while pregnant, and then even more so after the birth.
Would our son have to wean before he was ready? What if he did not like the idea of a sibling, or having to share all the
things he had to himself? Would I have to endure postpartum depression all over again? This pregnancy was more physically
stressful than the first, and it was wearing on my mental state. Prenatal depression showed itself frequently, especially
since I was still in a relatively isolated situation. I was, however, confident in my decision to birth at home again, and
felt a little more prepared in that aspect! Our second baby boy, Kenneth, was born at home in the water, and his older brother
witnessed the whole event. It was a relatively quick, but intense birth, but beautiful all the same. We had a quiet babymoon,
but Every had a very difficult time adjusting to a new family member. It took every last ounce of patience I had to help him
get through it. Even with all the precautions I took in setting up extra support to help me through the postpartum time, the
wave of darkness swept over me like a heavy cloud with no wind. Some days I just did not want to be alive anymore. When Kenny
was about three months old, I got a part time job waitressing, which helped a lot. I was able to distance myself from motherhood
just enough to regain perspective. Unfortunately, the relationship between my partner and I was going downhill fast. Resentment
was building, and miscommunications spiraled out of control.
Five months later,
life as I knew it came to a halt. I made the terrifying decision to end the relationship. All that I was certain about was
that the environment we had created was toxic for all of us. I lost my job, and got on public assistance. This was also when
I finally got serious about seeking regular therapy, as well as getting on antidepressants. All of these major changes were
terrifying and liberating all at once. I was on the road to recovery. I made the conscious decision as often as I could to
choose to be happy in the moment, whatever that moment had in store. At this time in my life, I would only do what
I love, and nothing less. This meant that I was determined to find a way to make money staying at home with the boys. I wanted
to pursue my passion for art and writing, for enjoying life and spending time in nature on a daily basis. Many spiritual revelations
and moments of absolute clarity reassured me that I was now on the right track, the one that felt good. It was obvious who
I was on the inside and what I needed to do to stay true to myself. This did not all occur without setbacks, discouraging
moments, and negative emotion. In fact, there were a lot of ups and downs, but it has been a gradual process of evolution;
the evolution of my mind, body, and spirit.
Now, Kenny is just over a year old and Every is just over three years
old. Signs of depression emerge every once in awhile, but I am on a mission to live a life of love and joy, so the low feelings
never last long. I try my best to accept the emotions that come, and not resist them. Witnessing my low moments from an objective
standpoint really helps. Staying detached, free of judgment, fear, guilt, or shame is what keeps me moving forward in a positive
direction. Asking myself “What do I want in this moment?” is my key to letting go of resistance. Now, I
can say with full confidence and enthusiasm, that I am enjoying the evolution of my desires and watching them come to fruition
on a daily basis. I accept myself for who I am, and where I am in this moment, always. Letting go of
the label “postpartum depression” is so freeing. To just let myself be, without judgment, or labeling,
gives me the relief to move forward without pressure or attachment to something that is not who I truly am. Looking back on
the most difficult times in this journey through life, I feel nothing but compassion, love, and understanding for myself and
everyone else. We are all connected, in this life together as one, and it is much easier if we just love one another for who
we are, and where we each are in any given moment. We are all unique and beautiful. Peace and joy beyond all understanding
to all!
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