PPD surveys

Ever since I lost the baby and the insurance had to cover the costs of all the hospital bills, they've been sending me reports to check if I have post-partum depression. They don't have a separate form for just those who lost their babies, so it's the standard "now that your baby is born, it's normal to feel baby blues. These are the signs if you have more than just the baby blues, and if you're now depressed."

Yes, I have more than just baby blues, because I have less than a baby in my arms.

They sent another form today, and said by this time, the baby blues should have passed and you should be bonding with your baby.

Unless you count us going to Elizabeth's grave the other day to add a cross with his name on it and a tiny baby wrapped lovingly in angel wings to it, then no, bonding isn't going so well. It's hard to bond when the baby was taken before you ever got to really know them or feel them. When all you had was one week of putting your life in danger to fight for them. I love my baby, I grieve my baby, I deeply miss my baby. But I don't get to bond with my baby from so far away.

These forms are supposed to be helpful, I know. But they're just a slap in the face. No, I won't fill out your form to see if I am depressed. I already KNOW I'm depressed. I know that our of your 10 symptoms, I have 9 of them. I understand perfectly well that I'm not just going through baby blues. I know what I'm going through. It's even deeper than depression. It's grief. One day, I'll only be depressed. It'll be an improvement. But I won't fill out the form, I won't be contacted and pushed to seek meds to help me. I know from going through this with Elizabeth, that if I don't feel it, mourn and grieve and cry and be depressed and lost in the dark for a while, it won't get better. I won't ever be happy again. This is the way my path must go now. I must walk through the darkness, full of tears and heartbreak and hurt, to get to the other side and move on. I wish grief was just grief, but it's depression with heartbreak. It's relentless. But the good thing is, even though I know that I'm depressed, I also know I'm coping. I'm finding ways to come out of it. Tiny, little ways. Slowly, very slowly. But surely, I am improving. I still cry and hurt and hate my situation with a passion. I still miss my baby, I still count how far along I would be with Jesse right now, I still remember the days at the hospital while tears silently fall down my face before I go to sleep at night. But today is better than yesterday. This week is a big improvement on a few weeks ago. This month is almost easier than last month. The improvement is slow, but it's sure, and that's what matters.

But reading those words in those letters is such a stab to the heart. It's a setback. Not even tearing through paper and envelopes help to ease the frustration and anger that arises. Yet it also helps to self-evaluate myself and see where I was since the last time I read those words a month ago. Last time, it wasn't just anger and hurt, it was tears for days. It was a big realization, another crack in my heart, to realize that I wasn't just sad, but depressed too.