Bianca Labrador is a freelance writer and mom to three crazy kids. When she’s not busy chasing around toddlers and sweeping up graham cracker crumbs, she can be found reading, knitting, writing, or falling asleep while she tries to catch up on her favorite shows. You can find her on Instagram and at her website.

“Now come away from the fridge. If it falls, it’ll crush you flat.” That line was spoken by Aunt Josephine, a character I relate all too well to, from the children’s book and movie A Series of Unfortunate Events. You see, Aunt Josephine and I can come up with every horrible scenario for everyday tasks that could manage to result in death or injury. She won’t cook hot food, because “the stove could burst into flames.” Look through a book? Also a dangerous task, because of paper cuts. And the chandelier hanging from the ceiling? That’s also a risk, why it could fall and impale the poor person standing beneath it. While I don’t venture as far as dear Aunt Josephine, I understand her fears and vivid scenarios.

In 2008, my doctor told me that I probably had anxiety. Five years later I was diagnosed with IBS, a functional bowel disease that has symptoms similar to Crohn’s to Celiac. One of its triggers can be anxiety. The doctor handed me a pamphlet and told me to figure out how to calm down and move on. I took her advice and moved on to another doctor. Within a month I found out that I was pregnant with my first baby and my ability to calm down didn’t appear. In fact, I just developed new worries. The first few weeks after finding out I was pregnant was wrought with anxiety inducing moments: a miscarry scare, changing doctors, and the realization we would need to move. None of that helped with finding my zen.

Being a mother of three and dealing with the potential perils of parenthood and the anxiety inducing IBS flare ups is difficult. Can I take the children to the park since I ate breakfast, or should I wait two hours to see if I’m going to get sick? My stomach feels fine now, but will it get sick later? After all, I did take a nibble of the cookie Madeline offered me.Most people with toddlers need to know where the bathrooms are for potty training purposes, but not me. I need them for the kids and my irritable bowels.

If I were just worried about my issues, that would be easier to handle. But I’m not only worrying about my potential tummy problems, I’m also worried about my kids. My brain can’t help but remind that there is so much to be afraid of in this big world. Our newsfeeds on social media are chock-full of horror stories of children being taken too soon. Forgetting a baby in a hot car? I could make that mistake. A small scratch from the playground turned into sepsis? My kids get scratches! Mosquito borne illnesses? And don’t get me started on Lyme Disease? We live in one of the worst places for Lyme Disease in the nation! Deer are in our front yard daily. And then there are the heartbreaking St. Jude’s ads that remind me how lucky I am to have healthy kids…for now. It would be so easy to allow these scenarios to take over my life. So, how do I function in this world? With support and a plan.

Two years ago, my new PCP floated the idea of taking anti-anxiety medication to help with my IBS. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a real option due to the nursing schedule and surprise third pregnancy. It was around that same time that one of my best childhood friends pulled me aside and gently said, “I think you should find a therapist. Your body is working against you.” She was right in many ways. I thought about her suggestion and filed it away. It wasn’t until the following year, after struggling with postpartum issues that I really started to see a therapist. You can read more about that here.

Going to therapy has saved my life in so many ways. It’s given me the opportunity to discuss my concerns with an unbiased source, who also helps me come up with ways to handle the stress. While I love therapy, I do need more tools to help me cope with the normal stressors of every day work-from-home-mom-of-three chaos. Here are some tools that I use to help me survive when the days seem to be dark:

Meditate

After the recommendation from my sister, I downloaded a meditation app. When I start feeling my chest get tight, I can turn it on for as little as two minutes and feel some relief. The one I have also has a guide for kids, so I can try to get them to calm down as well.

Exercise

Even if it’s a simple walk around the front yard while the kids are napping, the movement and exposure to nature helps to take the edge off of the moment. I do have to work to have my mind let go of what’s bothering me, but that tiny little walk really does help me.

Talk

If I’m feeling extremely overwhelmed, I have three people in my contact list that I know I can call up and talk to without judgment. My sister is one of them. She’s my best friend and has helped me overcome so many hurdles with my mental health, I don’t know where I’d be without her. Find a couple of people that you can reach out to without judgment, and call them. 

Listen

Music can set or change a mood. I’ve created multiple playlists and have a few stations bookmarked on my phone that I know I can turn on to try and help pull me out of the emotional water when I feel like I’m drowning. Create a playlist for yourself of music that makes you happy or calms you down, and have it ready for when you need it.

Diet

I have to watch what I eat to avoid flare-ups. It’s not always easy to do – why does pizza have to taste so good? But when I’m careful with what I eat, my mind and body feel so much better. Knowing that I’m doing what I can to avoid any flare ups, also helps my mind to calm down. I don’t get as anxious at a meal when I know I’ve eaten the diet I’m supposed to.

Pray

I try to be a religious person, but I’ve struggled with  the existential crises of, “ARE YOU EVEN THERE?!?” Even through those moments, I still find myself praying for patience and guidance. I’ve always yelled a few times, and that’s also made me feel better. Even looking at an image of Mary holding baby Jesus has helped me to calm down slightly. 

My GI doctor has told me that I will always experience occasional flare-ups, doing the things listed above helps me to have less anxiety and be more present with my children. There will be days when I know I can’t walk them to school or play at the park, and that’s okay. As long as I’m doing the best of my ability with my children, that’s what matters.

“Oh I’m going to take you off of these meds, you don’t need to be on them. You’re not depressed, you have a supportive husband.” The words coming out of my OB-GYN’s mouth at my 2 week postpartum c-section incision check, are words that I will never forget. 

All at once my mind began to race, as I stared back at my doctor. She’s a medical professional. She sees new mothers every day. She knows what she’s talking about. I knew I was overreacting. I must just have the baby blues and a little bit of anxiety, I reassured myself. But, then my gut twisted inside of me, telling me she was wrong. These anxious thoughts were not normal run of the mill baby blues, it said. I didn’t feel like this when I was a brand new mother, so why was I so unsure of myself as a second time mom? Why did I feel like I had no idea what I was doing and as a result would second guess and agonize over everything action?

I thought about the day I left the hospital. It was a heavily emotional day for me, after months of promising myself that I would expose myself to the doctor about the ongoing rage episodes I was having and the terribly anxious thoughts I would have about me falling down the stairs, and harming my child in my belly. I always seemed to talk myself out of it at the beginning of every prenatal appointment, telling myself that it was silly and probably just strange pregnancy hormones.

It was my fifth day in the hospital. My beautiful daughter, who had been born via C-section, born the day before my birthday, was absolutely perfect. She struggled with a bit of weight loss, more than what was considered normal, which is probably what set off my downward struggle. I blamed myself for not being better prepared, for not being able to produce the milk she needed. I told myself I was lazy, because I let her sleep, because she slept so well, and hated to wake her to struggle through another sleepy breastfeeding session. The anxious thoughts surrounded me, picking apart my every move, and hearing my baby cry as doctors poked and prodded her didn’t help either. 

A nurse came in and handed me the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale, a questionnaire that accesses mothers post- birth emotional state. My initial thoughts were that I should say what they want to hear, as I had been for days, telling everyone I was fine and over the moon about my new baby. I should have been happy, and I was, but also exhausted and overwhelmed. I should have been so happy to be a family of four, instead I was riddled with worry. How was I going to do this? How could I love another as much as I love my son? In a moment of bravery, I decided I needed to be honest. I answer the questions carefully and truthfully, not knowing exactly what would happen next. Would they admit me to the psych ward? Would they declare me an unfit mother and take my child? Would I always be that crazy mom who couldn’t handle it? What had I done? 

Shortly after, I met with a nice doctor, who I had remembered meeting during the rounds of visits between all the partners in the practice. She was warm and caring. She tiptoed around my answers, until I just broke down, and told her the truth, how I struggled with anxiety and anger in pregnancy and now I felt terrified and sad, and didn’t know why. To date, it’s probably the ONLY good conversation I’ve had with a doctor about postpartum mental health. She prescribed Zoloft, told me to follow up with my doctor in two weeks and get a counselor. Ok, easy enough, no one is admitting me for a longer stay at the hospital and no one was taking my baby away. I can do this.

A short while later, I stood over my daughter’s car seat, moving and adjusting the straps, worrying about the headrest, realizing I had forgotten how it all came together and buckled. This was a car seat I had used a million times with my son, but standing before it now, it felt like a foreign object that had just been dropped in front of me with no instructions. My head told me I was a horrible mother, how could I forget? How was I going to take care of two kids when I didn’t even remember this? The thoughts began to fill my head, but I just wanted out of the room. We posed for pictures and packed up our things, and were released back into the world. We went from there right to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions for pain medicine and my Zoloft. I remember vividly being at the window to the drive up counter, and saying to myself, “This medication is not forever, but once it begins to work, I will start to feel better again.” 

Only it didn’t work. And I didn’t feel better. And now here I was, with my OB was not only telling me I didn’t need it, but I didn’t need it because I had a supportive husband. I knew in my head that that was just nonsense, but instead I blamed myself yet again. I do have a good support team so why was I having such a hard time? I swallowed down the anxious thoughts, anger and sadness, and walked out of the office, before bursting into tears.

From this point forward, I began to feel super lonely. My husband was working a lot because Isla came during his business’ extreme busy season. I was too scared to tell anyone how I was feeling for fear of them thinking I was a bad moon; too scared of asking for help. I felt like everyone was judging me when I went out in public, especially if I didn’t have a PERFECT trip to Target with both children. I convinced myself that my family thought I was weak, that I couldn’t handle a second kid when I was doing so poorly with the first. My thoughts never stopped running- all the ways my kids could get hurt, what would happen to them when I would crash the car, I was convinced I was screwing them both up. My counselor told me that all moms had these feelings (side note: no they don’t). So what was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I handle them? 

Read more about my postpartum experience here. 

My postpartum journey was an uphill battle that I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to fight for the right doctors or tell my counselor that she was doing more damage to me than help; I didn’t want to demand to get off all the psychiatrist’s six month waiting lists and demand to be seen. And I barely fought for myself the first 9 months after my daughter was born. I took the meds (of which I know believe I have tried all breastfeeding safe anti-anxiety medications); I went to a counselor (albeit a bad one), but I was going! See, I’m trying! But it wasn’t until I fired my counselor, finally went into a psychiatrist who listened and didn’t give up (as many doctors before had) with finding the right mix of medications to help make me feel more like myself. 

I struggled for over two years with postpartum anxiety and what I came to know as intrusive thoughts. Honestly I still do today, but it more managed than it ever has been. Part of my recovery has been the journey I am currently on, that without, I’m not sure I would have fought the way I have. In Winter of 2018, I hired a life and business coach, who helped me to dig deeper and finally give me purpose and a path. I would study to become a postpartum doula and start to help new mothers one by one. Since discovering this passion, I have been able to fully heal myself and although a work in progress still, I have found that the best medicine for me, has been giving back to other struggling mothers. We need to change the stigma around postpartum mood disorders. For years, it has been depicted as mothers not getting out of bed, unable to care for the baby or a mother who harms herself and child. It’s not weak or mean you’re a bad mother. You are not crazy. You need more support, you need the village, you need to be cared for too. Let’s do better for the new moms.

Few tips for surviving PPD/PPA  

For a full list of tips, check out my blog on the topic: 

• Learning to ask for help is one of the hardest things to do but one of your best assets as a new mother. Check out my post on asking for help here.
• Talk to a trusted friend, text, email someone you trust, go on Instagram and use #postpartum and connect with other mothers who feel the way you do. Know you are not alone in this battle
• If you know you may be at risk for PPD/PPA, come up with a plan prenatally of how you will handle it. A postpartum plan is actually something many mothers forget, but is almost more important than determine what the best bottle for breastfed babies is. (Click here to get my “Rock Your Postpartum” postpartum planner)  
• Don’t give up. You may need to tell a lot of different doctors and nurses, some won’t help at all, some will want to help but aren’t sure how. Don’t give up hope that there will be that one person that will fight a little harder for you, a spouse, a nurse… sometimes you discover that’s you that wants to fight. Don’t ever stop fighting for yourself. 
• Hire a postpartum doula. A postpartum doula is an additional support person you can hire to help with the transition into motherhood- providing emotional, physical and information support. Postpartum doulas are available most often in person but have begun to offer virtual services. While not able to help with the housework or care for the baby/mama, virtual doulas can still provide emotional and informational support. Read more here about all the ways a postpartum doula can help transform your transition into motherhood. 

“Everyone wants to be someone’s sun to light up someone’s light, but why not be someone’s moon to brighten in the darkness hour”