Talk is sometimes more than cheap

If you've been coming here for awhile, or even if you're new to my world, chances are you know I'm a big sap. I cry a lot. I cry when the wind blows, when I'm sick, when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm overwhelmed, when I'm hurt, when I see touching commercials on TV (damn you, Walmart at Christmastime!).

It's no surprise that I cry a lot lately. This kidlet cooking in my insides makes for a pretty fascinating hormonal ride. I'm up, I'm down, I'm up even higher, I'm down even lower. Luckily, as soon as I passed the 15 week mark I started ending up on the high notes and not on the low ones. The first 15 weeks were tough. Tough is an understatement.

"Tough" is one of those words you use when people ask you how you're doing and you don't want to say, "I've never experienced this kind of crushing, all-consuming depression before and I'm terrified that it will never go away." You don't want to say that to people because it's scary. It's scary for them to hear and it's scary for you to say because then you're acknowledging it. It becomes too real.

I've read a couple medical studies done with pregnant women in different parts of the world and they've found that perinatal (during pregnancy) depression is as common, if not more common, than postpartum (after birth) depression. Postpartum depression (PPD) has been getting more media attention in the past handful of years since more women have been willing to be open about how they're feeling rather than hide their extreme emotions out of shame. The attention is good, but there also needs to be a discussion in the medical and mental health communities about perinatal depression. It's a real thing. I've been there.

For the first 15 weeks of my pregnancy I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning, let alone see friends or family, go to work, interact with people. I didn't want to have a conversation with anyone because I felt that the only thing anyone ever asked me about was the baby. It's understandable, but it made me feel like I was disappearing. I felt as if Melissa was invisible and some strange incubator had taken her place. My identity was very shaky and malleable and the ground felt uneven under my feet all the time. Matthew saw it all first hand and he was amazing. He was nothing but supportive. I can't imagine having gone through that without him. Single women and even women in relationships with less than supportive partners have to endure their pain in silence, alone, without a support network. Something about that needs to change.

I've joined a support group in Brooklyn for PPD and perinatal depression and hope that it grows into something where I can volunteer to help other women who are going through what I went through. I'm monitoring my emotional and mental health on a daily basis and I'm listening to what my brain tells me. Once the baby comes it's that very monitoring that will let me know if I'm one of the millions of women across the world who suffers from PPD. Catching it early is important. If you know someone who has suffered from perinatal depression or PPD don't be afraid to talk to them about it. The more we talk about it, the less monstrous it becomes.