By Brandi Whitlock
I started noticing something different about myself after I had my first child. I was 19 when I had India. I was in Madison to attend school. I didn’t finish because I couldn’t stay focused and because I was having a baby. I had no family in Madison, and India’s father was in and out of the picture and wasn’t a big help.
I remember going to the doctor for her first checkup, and I remember feeling so overwhelmed, tired and defeated. I felt disgusted with myself for how I looked and felt at the time. I had a very difficult pregnancy.
I got in the doctor's office and sat down with India in my arms, the cutest little baby with coal-black hair down her back. I had a wonderful doctor who delivered my baby. He came in with a big Kool-Aid smile on his face. He spoke to me, swiped India up from my arms and took her to see other doctors and nurses.
While he was showing off India, I was feeling dead and numb inside. I wanted to tell my doctor how I was feeling, but didn’t have the words. He finally came back with her and asked how I was feeling.
I burst out crying!
I tried to describe, in the best way I could, how I was feeling. He diagnosed me with postpartum depression. I had never heard of it before. He explained what it meant and gave me a couple of pamphlets to read at home.
Postpartum Depression
Symptoms of depression after childbirth vary, and they can range from mild to severe, according to an article from the Mayo Clinic.
After India’s first checkup, I felt better, but I also felt like I accomplished nothing. I wanted someone to make me feel better and make whatever I was feeling would go away. I remember when I got back from the doctor, I was staring at my child like, “What am I going to do? I’m 19 with a child in a city with no family and no one to help me with my child. I have to work, pay bills and provide for my child all by myself.”
How would I manage?
I went from job to job. I always managed to keep an apartment, but I was falling into a dark hole and could not climb out. I read the postpartum depression pamphlets, and I just sat there. My baby started crying, and I picked her up and gave her the bottle. I went on with life. I was crying and sad all the time.
At some point in time, I got better.
Not better-better, just better than I was before.
It seems like I would fall into a deep depression and be fine and back into one within months or sometimes years. Over the years, I went through so much in my life. I didn’t finish school. I had another baby. My kid’s father wasn’t around. My mom’s health started to decline.
I was in the black hole again.
Why didn’t anyone notice? Why didn’t my doctors pick up on it right away? Did I look like I had everything under control?
I never talked about it with anyone. One time on a phone call with my mom, I was telling her how I was feeling, she suggested that I come back home. I didn’t want to because I felt like a failure.
I ended up moving back to my hometown to take care of my mother. I was getting paid to do this, but I had to move back in with her: Two kids with my mom and nephew in one apartment!
I HATED my life! I was overweight, tired, angry and depressed! I never felt so much anger in my life. I always took everything personally and thought everyone was against me. I would yell at my kids all the time. I was just so frustrated. I felt out of control. I couldn't express how I was feeling.
Finding My Way Back to Myself
When I finally went to see a therapist, I couldn’t get anything out. I just cried. I hadn’t cried in a long time, and it felt so good. I tried to explain, as best I could, how I was feeling.
I felt like I was losing it.
I had a lot of self-esteem problems.
I felt like I failed at life.
I wanted to get everything out.
I never shared any of my feelings with anyone. Now, I’m about to unload these feelings that felt like dark souls pulling down into that dark hole.
My therapist asked me, "You’re taking care of all these people. Who is taking care of you?” All I could say is no one.
I’m not even taking care of myself.
It was so hard to get anyone to notice that I was depressed or needed help. I’m sure when I went for checkups, they noticed something.
It’s hard to get help with mental health as an African American woman. Some assume that you are just an angry Black woman, or you’re this strong Black woman that can handle everything or carry the weight of the world.
While depression can touch anyone regardless of race, “Black people are (reportedly) less likely to develop depression but more likely to develop severe depression,” than white people, wrote Aderonke Bamgbose Pederson in a 2023 academic article.
Black people may also have unique factors that contribute to the likelihood of depression. Kimberlydawn Wisdom, the senior vice president of community health, education and wellness and chief wellness officer at Henry Ford Health stated in an article that experiencing racism, “especially during childhood and adolescence, may increase someone’s risk for depression.”
Dr. Wisdom recommends that if a provider dismisses you, turn to another doctor to seek help.
What can we as African American women do to advocate for ourselves?
I still have my days where I struggle with depression, I take one day at a time and do what I have to do for myself to keep going
My daughter India is now 29 and in May she will be receiving her master’s in psychology. India also suffers from depression. When we are going through depression, we talk to each other and say, “Be sad for a few days but don’t stay in it! I can’t get stuck.”
I take walks, listen to music, take a nice bubble bath and do yoga to get me through my rough days.
