My Struggle with Mental Illness Has Denied Me the Family I Always Desired

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Trigger warning: suicidal thoughts

I long for more children. While I cherish my two little ones, I often find myself envisioning what life would be like with a third or even a fourth child. Yet, the reality is that I cannot expand my family further. After the birth of my son, now four, I was overwhelmed by postpartum depression. It left me feeling shattered, leading me to misuse my anxiety medication in an attempt to escape the turmoil. I was taking three to four times the recommended dosage and struggled to get out of bed most days. My routine became a blur: getting the kids ready for preschool, driving them there, and then retreating back to bed until it was time to pick them up.

Eventually, I found it necessary to place them in afternoon care because I couldn’t cope with being around them for extended periods. Admitting this was a difficult pill to swallow. Alongside postpartum depression, I battled intense anxiety that often erupted into rage, leaving me sensitive to loud noises and irritable when my kids played.

I began to feign migraines just to have my mother-in-law or husband care for the children. This deception weighed heavily on my conscience, filling me with guilt and making me feel like an inadequate mother. My mental state deteriorated to the point where I became suicidal. When I reached out to my (now former) doctor, he informed me that I had treatment-resistant depression and that most medications were unlikely to help. It felt as though he had given up on me, and I was engulfed in fear and confusion. One Friday, overwhelmed, I went to the emergency room due to my suicidal thoughts and was hospitalized for the weekend.

A couple of months later, I finally opened up to my husband about the depths of my struggles with depression and anxiety. I was admitted to a psychiatric facility for six weeks, where I received the support I desperately needed.

Now, two years later, I can’t say I left the hospital completely healed. I’ve been undergoing electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) every four to six weeks and attending weekly therapy sessions. I must adhere strictly to my medication regimen and learn coping strategies for my anxiety. Any slip-up could send me spiraling back into darkness. The journey has been arduous, but I’m finally beginning to feel a semblance of control over my mental health. I dare to say I feel “normal” again.

However, it’s a bittersweet realization as I contemplate the possibility of adding to my family. At 37, there is still time, but I struggle with the thought of bringing another child into the world after all I’ve endured with my two. The last experience almost led to my demise, and I can’t fathom reliving that anguish. I know my husband feels the same way. It’s hard to determine if my desire for more children stems from a biological instinct or a feeling of loss.

Perhaps it’s a combination of both.

I’m immensely grateful for the family I have, yet I can’t shake the feeling of betrayal by my body and mind. I envision cradling a newborn, inhaling that sweet baby scent, and nursing. I imagine sewing baby blankets to match those of my existing children. I think of the joy of witnessing a first word or a first step, and the lively chaos of a larger family. But I must pause there.

Instead, I hold onto the precious memories with my kids. I cherish the laughter we share, the joy of building forts from couch cushions, their warm hugs, and all the “I love yous.” I reflect on the wisdom I wish to impart (which they may ignore) and the holidays we get to celebrate together. I strive to find the good in each day and treasure it.

I lovingly let go of the dreams that could have been and focus on the blessings I already have. My family is whole, and so am I.

This article was originally published on July 17, 2021.

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Summary:

This reflective piece discusses the impact of mental illness on the author’s desire to expand her family. Despite grappling with postpartum depression and anxiety following the birth of her children, she has found a way to cope and cherish her existing family. The longing for more children is met with the harsh reality of her mental health struggles, leading to a bittersweet acceptance of her current situation.