The Baby Blues

 

Whether because of the recent birth of my 13th great-grandchild, or, more likely, the current news coverage of a certain trial, I began recalling my own postpartum experience after the birth of my first born a little over sixty-four years ago.

His due date was the 8th but Douglas wasn't born until thirteen minutes after midnight on the 10th. His Dad was there for the birth but had to leave early the next morning for two weeks National Guard camp in Minnesota. 

When the baby and I were released from the hospital we went to my parents' home. 

I wasn't quite nineteen when Doug was born, but typical teenager I thought I knew everything. The first night I slept upstairs next to the baby bassinet and Mom slept with me to help when my little one woke up. When he did Mom changed his diaper and I nursed him back to sleep.

Things progressed well with my grandparents visiting to see their new great-grandchild - the first on Dad's side and the second on Mom's - as well as aunts, neighbors and my in-laws. In the daytime we put my sleeping baby on Mom's bed instead of taking him upstairs.  

I remember so well that it was one of those afternoons when I went in to check on him that I felt such a huge feeling of being overwhelmed. I started crying. Mom came in to see what was wrong. I didn't know what was wrong, but she did. Gently she said, "Ramona, you've got the baby blues." She went on to explain that it was natural for a new mother to feel as I was and that it would get better. I don't recall that she used the term postpartum depression, but that's what it was. Thank goodness my mother was there not only to help with my baby but to help one of her own understand that part of being a new mom. 

I don't recall having the baby blues after Kari and Preston were born. I might have felt overwhelmed because I had so much more to do with two more children and working full time but that wasn't the same as PPD.  👶💙