Postpartum Depression in Men

 

Postpartum Depression in Men

My first child was born in October 2013, I, was thrilled. “I was as excited as any new parent and looking forward to being a dad.”   Within days my initial elation eroded, replaced by anxiety and fear. My son,  cried constantly.  I fear that my boy persistent crying indicated a serious medical issue. “I became fixated on the idea something was devastatingly wrong with my son.” At work, I couldn't give my hundred percent. Back home I was irritable and even angry. “Every time I’m with him he’s crying,” I told my wife. “And now I’was even more convinced there’s something terribly wrong with my son.” My wife and my son’s pediatrician tried to reassure me. They didn’t succeed. “No one could persuade me that my son was fine.” 

Then when my boy was  a few weeks old, I became convinced that the baby hated me. “He cries as soon as I walk in the door,” My wife  pointed out that the baby was too young to hate anyone. Feeling isolated and rejected, I became “verbally vicious” to my wife and demeaned my son constantly. “Maybe he’s autistic,” I told her, “hammering the point home day after day.” As the weeks went by my thoughts and feelings  towards my son, got darker.  “I hate him. I wish we’d never had him.” At some point during those weeks, I googled paternal postpartum.  “I found out it existed,” “but still I didn’t seek help.”  For men going from dude to dad is very different from any other event in their lives. “And those old-school expectations that men are the protectors and providers keep men from seeking help.”  I was reluctance to reach out to a professional (He was tied into his feelings about masculinity). “I didn’t want my wife to see me as weak and helpless, I was supposed to be the strong one.” Stuffing my emotions made things worse. My dark moods led to dark, intrusive thoughts. When I put my son into his highchair, I worried I’d been too rough or had shaken him. And he confesses there were moments when I suppressed anger scratched so close to the surface that had to walk away from my son.

When my boy was about five or six weeks old, I and my wife planned an outing while my boy's grandparents were babysitting.  But that morning, “I said something really horrible to my wife about the baby.”  Driving to work, I suddenly felt terrified that this time I had gone too far. I pulled over to call my wife to apologize and to ask if their date was still on.  I thought she said “no.”  (She didn’t.) Convinced that she was rejecting me, I burst into tears. That breakdown led to a breakthrough. I finally shared my despair, feelings of disconnectedness and fear with my wife. Her response was reassuring. “You need help. And you need rest. You’re falling apart,” she told me.  That very day I hired a night nurse. And I made an appointment to see a mental health practitioner  who specialized in postpartum depression. (He was the therapist’s first male patient.)  Over the next three months, cognitive therapy helped me understand that my obsessive negative thoughts were not based in reality. My son didn’t hate me. My son hadn’t rejected me. My son was healthy and thriving. Still, I never told my therapist or my wife about my darkest thoughts.  “I didn’t want anyone to think my son was in [any] danger.” By the time my wife went back to work and my month-long paternity leave started, my boy had “matured and stopped crying constantly”. My confidence as a parent grew. Feeling much better, I later stopped therapy.

In October of 2017, I  welcomed my second child, a daughter.  My plan was to start therapy before the baby was born but as the birth approached, a death in the family sidetracked me. “My mind was preoccupied with other things. Although I went into therapy when my daughter was four weeks old, some of the old feelings and anger reemerged. I found myself saying terrible things about my daughter in front of my son who said, “that’s not nice, daddy.”  “I couldn’t believe I’d let it happen again.”   But this time I didn’t withdraw or try to hide my feelings from my wife.  Thanks to the cognitive therapy. “Now I believe that things will get better.”