Hanging on by a thread: I'm guest posting at Postpartum Progress today

 

This blog was featured last week on the CBC's Canada Writes page, with a Q&A with me. I mention that now not purely for reasons of shameless self-promotion, but because one of the comments the interviewers made to me was that I write "so honestly about life and the challenges of parenting." I challenged them a bit on that one, because, as I said, "really, I could be writing a pack of lies and who would know, right?"

I'm not writing a pack of lies. But I don't write — or haven't written — about many things.

And one of those things is postpartum depression.

I've never written directly about PPD in these pages (although, ironically, I mentioned it in the CBC interview, because apparently now I'm ready). I've alluded to it, written around it, but I'm not sure that I've ever actually said, definitively, that I went through it. Partly that's because I was never formally diagnosed (and that in itself is a problem), and so I don't feel that I'm entitled to claim those words. Partly it's because I started blogging after (I thought) I’d "got through" that stage of my life. Partly it's because I didn't know (and probably still don't) enough about the condition to think it applied to me.

But I've claimed, privately, my early parenting experiences as postpartum depression, for a while now. And now I've finally written about them, today, on Katherine Stone's absolutely crucial website, Postpartum Progress:

What I keep returning to is the nightly ritual of flossing. I’ve been a model flosser for decades, a dentist’s dream, scraping away at the grit between my teeth even on nights when I’d had a few drinks, even when I was exhausted, even when the tedium of dental hygiene was the only thing between me and my bed and my bed was so, so attractive. I flossed out of a sense of obligation, because it felt good, but most of all because I had long taken it as a bellwether of my own mental health: no matter how bad things are, I’d always figured, if I was still managing to floss, things couldn’t be dire. There was still hope. I mean, no one on the brink of madness, of utter collapse, says to the guys in the white suits, “I’ll be with you in a second — I just need to floss my teeth.”

Or do they?

Probably you knew I was going to say this, but for the record: in retrospect, I’m not sure that flossing was such a good bellwether.

Please read the rest here. (It's not all about dental floss; I promise.)

I first met (really met, for more than a nanosecond over a buffet table, that is) Katherine in May, at the Mom 2.0 Summit in Atlanta, Georgia. We were on a panel together, with the somewhat intimidating title of "How to Be a True Agent of Change: A New Look at Issue-based Content. Katherine, in case you don't know her work, has wrestled issues of postpartum depression and mood disorders well into the spotlight of the blogosphere and beyond, helping thousands upon thousands (millions?) of parents. She was also anything but intimidating. I wish I’d met her earlier, wish I'd come across PPP earlier. I'm honoured to be able contribute to the site today, and thank the ever-lovely Susan Petcher for making it happen.

If you suspect that you know someone who just might benefit from my story, from other parents' stories, from the information on the site, please share it, gently. I wish someone had, with me.