Postpartum depression hit me like a ton of bricks after having my first baby. I would get so upset anytime someone would call it the “baby blues.” It felt too trivial a term to describe the desperation and hopelessness I felt moment after moment, day after day, and it didn’t help that there weren’t a lot of people who talked about it. When I tried to bring it up to other mothers, many of them seemed confused and would admit to feeling tired after having a baby but couldn’t relate to the depression part of it. It felt isolating.
During my second pregnancy I was determined to “beat” PPD. I convinced myself that an unmedicated pregnancy would surely spare me from PPD. I approached pregnancy and delivery much like a high achieving student – by reading all the birthing books, and watching all the birthing documentaries. I even considered naming my daughter “Ina” after Ina May Gaskin.
So when the time came to deliver, I squatted down and gave birth to my daughter completely unmedicated. I picked her up and had skin to skin immediately. I was in heaven. I had done it, and PPD was nowhere in sight…or so I thought.
It was right before the baby’s first doctor’s appointment that I first noticed she was orange. It was undeniable. The pediatrician confirmed this and checked her bilirubin. Not only was she jaundiced but she had also lost 13% of her body weight. Suffice to say breastfeeding was not going well…again. The pediatrician said we would have to bring her back for treatment. Everything seemed fine until I realized I would have to leave her at the hospital.
One thing I know for sure is that babies belong with their mother. No one can prepare you for having to go home without your baby. Yes, it was only jaundice and for that I’m thankful, but leaving your baby feels wrong. I would say that was the day PPD started to get a hold of me. It probably would have come on a lot stronger had it not been for an unexpected mother-friend.
A mother-friend is a woman who has had her own children and has experienced the difficulty and the beauty of motherhood. She embodies the saying it takes a village to raise a child by becoming part of your village. She is genuinely empathetic and shows up for you in ways that may seem small but are actually life changing.
My girlfriend reached out to me. She had seen on social media that the baby was in the NICU and wanted to check in. Because I trust her I told her exactly how I was feeling and my difficulties with nursing. She gave me some advice and uplifting words. A few days later she offered to come over and teach me how to cook mochi which is what she swears by if you’re trying to get your milk supply up. (This is where it gets good.) She shows up, and she’s wearing glasses, absolutely no make up, and her hair in a ponytail. Immediately my soft postpartum body relaxes. She wasn’t there to hang out. She didn’t want me to host her. She was there to help. She got it.
She sets up in my kitchen. Takes out all her ingredients and cooks for me. Talking me through each part of the process step-by-step so that I would be able to make it too. THEN SHE LEFT. Even the way she left (promptly) was an act of kindness. She understood in a way only another mother would – through lived experience.
Over the next week I ate so much mochi. I can’t tell if it was the mochi I ate that increased my milk supply, but I know that because someone had shown me genuine kindness and empathy, I was fueled.
So the other day when I visited my friend and her newborn baby, I remembered my mother-friend and how she showed up for me. I arrived at my friend’s house in leggings, with no makeup on, and my hair in a ponytail. I brought her lunch and held the baby while she ate. I changed a diaper and rocked that baby to sleep. I didn’t do it for any reason other than someone had done it for me and it felt good.
Motherhood is a collective energy, a state of being that’s strong, nurturing, and loving. This friend taught me that while we mother our children, on occasion we may need to mother our friends too, especially when our friend just had a new baby. To this day, it remains one of the kindest and gentlest ways a woman has shown up for me, and I view it as my duty and honor to show up for another woman in the same way – as a mother-friend.
Risking Delight 