A Silent Plague

A couple of weeks ago I managed to get out and go to our ward's Relief Society birthday dinner.  (Hmm, for those of you who are not Mormon, that may sound like I'm speaking another language.  Translation: I went to an activity celebrating the women's organization that is part of my church congregation.)  Anyway, I was asked to share a few thoughts about Relief Society, and I ended up talking a little about my postpartum depression after B and the older sister name Frieda, who essentially saved my life one bleak day, though she never knew it.  It's not a story I'm comfortable sharing, but at the time I felt prompted to do so.

What amazed me was the number of women who approached me afterward to share their own horror stories of contemplating suicide.  Most instances were when these women had new babies or very young children and they felt beyond overwhelmed.  The stories I heard were not casual instances of having a bad day, but awful depression that they felt like they barely survived.  One sister (whose children all are teenagers or young adults now, and they are a good group) told me that she came very close to calling CPS herself and telling them to come take her kids before she hurt them or herself.  I've also had a few very private conversations with a couple of friends over the years who have also had horrific bouts of some version of depression.  With all of these women, I never would have guessed until they opened up and shared with me how hard it had been.

This goes against all the conventional wisdom that serious postpartum depression only affects a small percentage of women, and I've been pondering it since that night.  Maybe it's not postpartum depression at all, and just severe depression that affects many women who are trying to raise children and are feeling overwhelmed.  But I wonder if it has always been like this, or if it is more common now because of something in our culture.  Did our great-grandmothers have this much of a struggle with it too, only there was too much of a stigma to talk about it?  Or do we have a bigger problem with it today, perhaps because of environmental or social causes?  Do other sisters in other countries have the same problem with it that we do?

Sometimes I wonder if it isn't the unrealistic expectations we have for ourselves and our children.  We feel like we have to be perfect mothers or we will screw up our children for life.  I know that nothing makes me feel worse than feeling like I'm hurting my children or failing them in some way.  And maybe it's just me, but I feel like the current generation of mothers has been taught that if you yell at your children or you spank them, if you aren't a fountain overbrimming with patience at all times, then you are physically or emotionally or verbally abusive.  Yet most of us (if not all of us) are not paragons of patience.  We don't always handle things right with our children.  We spank or we yell and sometimes we fall pathetically short of our standards, and because of the expectations that are on us, we secretly wonder if we are such bad mothers that our children would be better off without us.  And if we are no good for our children, what is the point in living?

You see where this thought process goes.

I've been considering what could be done to help.  If so many women struggle with this at some point in their lives, it's a serious problem.  Yet none of the women I know who have had issues with it come out and tell you when they need help.  Part of the game is to keep pretending to everyone else that you are fine.  So how do we figure out who needs help and what we can do?

Does anybody have any ideas?