One thing you are never prepared for is the amount of pressure placed on new mothers. After having DD I remember telling a good friend (who was expecting in October) that I will never be one of those moms who gives unwanted advice or makes a mother feel less of a mother.
Right away there was pressure to be supermom. To breastfeed, to have a baby on a schedule, to be a great wife, to keep the house clean, etc.
DD wasn't an easy newborn (not that newborns are easy). But as I sat in my bed with her, struggling to feed her, an odd feeling started to creep up on me.
I began to think of ending my life. As I type this, I can't believe I felt that way. I looked at this angry and demanding baby and thought I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I thought it would be so much easier to not be here anymore and that DD would be better off with a new mom.
I also started to think I wasn't cut out for motherhood. That DD should be given up for adoption. I, a normally patient person, couldn't handle it.
I didn't say anything to anyone. I let my feelings of failure (due to breastfeeding) and death take over me. I was angry and sad. I missed my old life. I hated my new life, hated my baby, and hated myself for feeling that way.
At my two week appointment to check on my incision I said something to my concerned doctor who said to keep an eye on it for a couple more weeeks.
Like clockwork she called me about a week later. When I told her I wasn't bonding with the baby and was still angry she suggested medication.