I don't know where to start with this post. I'm tired, I have a headache, and I can't think straight. It's going to be rambling. I'm having a hard time telling the difference between 'normal' postpartum feelings and PPD symptoms. I was told I was high risk for PPD when I was pregnant, but I stopped going to counselling because I didn't like the way the therpist made me feel.
LO is a month old now. I wouldn't say that I really feel sad much, maybe even at all. But I don't feel like myself. We're having a lot of problems breastfeeding (God, that's a whooole 'nother story), and I think that's where a lot of this is coming from. I have this obsession, which I don't think is too healthy, with being able to breastfeed her. When it doesn't work, I alternately want to scream at her; want to curl up into a ball and cry; or want to scream at myself. I don't feel like anyone understands why I 'have to' breastfeed her, and that's something even I can't answer (I mean aside from the benefits of breast milk).
The catalyst to this post is what happened tonight. I was just going to join DH in bed and LO started stirring, so I breastfed her for the first time in over a week. It was going really well, and she ate for a long time, then broke the latch and went to sleep. We cuddled for a while, but when I got up she woke up hungry again, so I fed her again. This happened three times. The third time, she was kicking and throwing her arms around too much to get a good latch, so I took her into the bedroom to get some safety pins to secure her swaddle. She was crying and kicking and I couldn't swaddle her and suddenly I just snapped. I woke DH and told him to swaddle her because I "couldn't f*cking do it". I left the room, and DH and I had a fight. After telling me I shouldn't have tried to breastfeed her in the first place and I "should listen to him" and give her formula, he told me I could never just walk away like that. I realised that I'd walked away because I didn't trust myself if I didn't cool down.
After that I just sat on the couch. I tried to take over feeding her so DH could go back to bed, but he wasn't having it. I didn't protest. I just sat on the couch, and cried because I couldn't breastfeed her. I feel so worthless, and so lost. I wanted to run out of the house and just be on my own. I wanted to smash and break everything in the room. I don't know why breastfeeding isn't working for us and I don't know why it's getting to me this much, but it certainly isn't the first time I've felt that way. If anything, it seems to be getting worse, not better.
Finally, is there such a thing as thoughts of harming yourself that aren't serious? It pops into my mind every now and then, but I used to cut myself and it's not the terrible "I must find some way to harm myself, right this minute" kind of thoughts I had years ago, it's more like the idea popping into my head and immediately being discounted. Like tonight: the thought "I might as well put a gun to my head" popped into my mind, but I wasn't actually considering it. Is it still serious? I'll admit it sounds worse now that I've actually typed it out.
God, I hate this.