life as best as i remember it…

The phrases were written on the white board as we walked into the crowded room. They were glad we were their, but I’m not sure that everyone else was glad to be there. I know the mother’s (most of them at least) were glad to be among women who can actually understand and empathize with their PPD. But looking around the room, I saw a few dads with sour faces, new mother’s with skeptic eyes, and family members with broken hearts. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to be there, but I knew I needed to be there – not only for Jenna, but for me too. This was PPD support group. This was how I spent Tuesday night.

I think most of the people that read this blog know that my wife is coming through her third battle with postpartum depression. This time around she’s found exceptional community through a PPD support group offered through one of our local hospitals downtown. First off, I can’t say enough good about these ladies. They are amazingly strong women who have offered Jenna encourage, support and healing in ways that I could never give her with my lack of hands-on experience. I don’t nor ever will know what she has experienced for basically the last four years of our life together.

In a conference room about the size of my living room, in other words, not too big, about 45 people were crammed in for a night of discussion, encouragement and healing. I was literally blown away. The first time (and sadly the only other time) I went the room was tiny with two nurses,  four or five other women and us. That was almost 11 months ago. It was great to see that so many mothers were willing to take the steps necessary for them to heal and find support.

We walked in and found seats. i almost immediately clicked with Jeep – Yes that is his nickname. He leaned over and whispered to me with a grin, “Isn’t it great that we don’t have to cut through the bulls**t? We all know why we’re here. There’s no shame in this.” I know that his last statement is why support groups like this really do work. There are no false pretenses; everyone knows why they are there. The honesty is real and vulnerable. If it wasn’t, the group wouldn’t be doing its job. But it is honest, and it is good. After introductions, we separated with the fathers and other family members heading out to another room. The mom’s got to say and enjoy massages and great company. The men received an open and honest lesson about the harsh realities of PPD.

Each story was different, but each story was exactly the same. And while some were worse than others, the symptoms are real and are experienced. Regardless, sharing stories of the battle is one of the most important precursors to healing. In sharing our story again, I feel like in many ways I re-upped the commitment to beating this thing together. Here’s why:

• PPD is not just the mother’s disease. PPD affects everyone in the house. Listening to the fathers was great. Hearing a 16 year old brother of a new mom talk about the impact of PPD on his family and him and having a SAFE place to do that was really eye opening to me. I was forced to think about how to support the kids during this. I feel like I’ve really missed out by not going with Jenna more often, and I really regret that now. Dads need to talk about this together, and I am committed to helping make a space for that to happen.

• PPD is a bio-social disease, meaning that while there is a definitely a biological misfire associated with PPD, there is also an important to recognize the non-verbal aspect to the disease. Job changes, adapting to motherhood (breast feeding, diapers, lack of sleep, etc.), and non-supportive husbands all contribute to the length and severity of PPD. Rough stuff. (By the way, many husbands do not support their wives during this life experience. Many tell them phrases like “Just to get over it. Be happy. Do work around the house, clean up, change diapers. Why aren’t you happy? This is the baby you’ve always wanted. Please, will you just stop crying.” It’s say, but it is true.)

• A family member of one of the mother’s asked, “Guys, when your wives act this way, isn’t it hard to like them.” Most husbands spoke up interjecting such phrases as “It’s not about like. It can’t be about like, or we won’t make it through this. It’s about real love, not about mushy-gushy love. It’s about waking up in the morning and telling yourself, ‘Today, I will love this woman sleeping next to me.’ It is about a committed love that is in survival mode ready to battle the storm ahead.”

I don’t know how to conclude this post without sounding cheesy or heart wrenching, but this is how the night ended

We all came back together to re-cap and share learnings from the evening. When it came around to me, I just had to thank the nurses for their commitment to the cause. I had to thank the other mothers because (a) without a shadow of a doubt, they are the reason that my wife as new vim and vigor to attack life head on. She will be healed, and I’m not sure this time around that would have happened to the extent to which it has without the women in that room and (b) because we know that a few girls wouldn’t not have made it without this group. Literally would not be alive without the support and community found at the Spectrum Health Wellness Center. Because of my own meds, I don’t cry very much. I actually got choked up. I NEVER get choked up anymore because of my own meds, but this is redemption. This is love in action. This is a piece of heaven; I literally believe that with all my heart. God smiles upon this community.