Why we all need to talk about postpartum depression | Auburn Harrison | TEDxUniversityofNevada

It's the most common complication of childbirth, yet PPD is a condition clouded with stigma, shame and guilt for mothers who experience it. According to Postpartum Support International, 15% of women suffer from postpartum depression, yet women are forced to suffer in silence and shame. Based on a personal experience with an extremely severe case of postpartum depression, anxiety and psychosis, Nevada-based nonprofit executive, Auburn Harrison paints a heartbreaking and harrowing picture of why our society's silence on the topic is hurting mothers.

Auburn Harrison serves as a nonprofit executive director for a nonprofit dropout prevention program for at-risk youth, Communities In Schools of Western Nevada. Her organization provides basic needs and case management to local students living in poverty, including wraparound student support services such as mentoring, tutoring and resources to help students stay in school, graduate and achieve life success. Auburn has been involved in the Northern Nevada non-profit and philanthropic and nonprofit community for over a decade. Auburn spent five years as an on-air television reporter at at KOLO 8 News Now, and five more years as an enlisted journalist in the US Navy. She holds a master's degree in writing from University of Nevada, Reno. In 2019, Auburn was named one of the Top Twenty Young Professionals Under 40 by the Reno Tahoe Young Professionals Network. Auburn lives in Reno with her husband and three little boys.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

Well, my guess is, everyone here
is either a mom,

has a mom,

(Chuckes)

or knows a mom.

Well, this story is for all of us.

In June of 2018,

my husband and I welcomed a third child,

another boy to join his two older
brothers, ages seven and four.

We were all so in love with him.

I couldn't wait to spend
the summer bonding

and enjoying the beautiful outdoors
with my family of five.

But instead,

I spent most of my summer
in a dark bedroom,

suffering from a severe and debilitating
case of postpartum depression,

also known as PPD.

By mid July, on one of the worst nights,
when I couldn't sleep,

my bedroom fan began to chant to me:

"Singe their clothes,
singe their clothes,"

beckoning me to light my house on fire
and burn my children.

I had three kids to raise
and a non-profit organization to run,

and yet here I was,

hearing voices in my head,
telling me to hurt my family.

I'm here today to tell my PPD story
because my hope is

it will help destigmatize and normalize
this very common condition in new mothers,

your friends, your wives, your sisters,

even yourselves.

You will need these tools
to identify postpartum depression

because she, or you,

are going to want to hide
the scary symptoms that come with it.

PPD is a perinatal mood disorder
caused by physical changes in women.

Hormones drastically shift and drop
after we have babies,

causing emotional repercussions
that are made even more severe

when we are sleep deprived.

According to
Postpartum Support International,

PPD is the most common
complication of childbirth,

impacting approximately 15% of women.

Yet it's incredibly rare to hear
anyone talk about it.

Postpartum psychosis is even more taboo;

it's that lovely little illness
that causes those delusions and paranoia

that I suffered from,

and it only occurs in every one
out of every 1,000 births.

In the most tragic and rare cases,
those dark visions become actions,

and the women can hurt or kill themselves,

or their children.

I started feeling like something was off
just a few days after giving birth.

First, it became incredibly anxious
and paranoid, unable to think straight.

I cancelled all of my plans
with family and friends

because making decisions
about where to go and what to do

just felt too heavy.

I was also terrified of germs
and convinced that my son was sick.

I checked his temperature every hour
for a fever, but he was normal.

By week two, I was completely exhausted,

but I barely ever slept.

When I would lay down to rest,
my brain would turn on full blast

becoming a revolving wheel
of negative thoughts and fear.

It was right around this time
when I started googling things like

"postpartum depression"
and "PPD" and "baby blues."

It was easy to see
that I had every symptom.

But it was much harder
to admit that fact out loud.

One day, I was sitting on the couch,
nursing our newborn,

when I suddenly felt warm and nauseated,
like I was going to pass out.

I called my OB-GYN office

and asked specifically
about postpartum depression,

but the nurse told me my symptoms
sounded like dehydration.

At at an urgent care clinic
later that morning,

an EKG on my heart showed
some irregularities in its beat,

so the doctor sent us rushing
to the ER next door.

There, the technician hooked me up
to an IV, ordered an MRI,

and gave me a CT scan.

But before any of these tests took place,

a distracted cardiac specialist
came into my room

and barely glanced at me
or my newborn baby

before misdiagnosing me
with a rare and deadly heart disease

called Brugada syndrome.

I spent that night
in a dark hospital room,

holding my 11-day-old baby,
trying to come to terms with the fact

that I was going to die and leave
behind my three young children.

The next morning, I was relieved to learn

that all those tests
on my heart and my brain,

they came back with normal results.

So, physically, I was healthy,
but I still felt panicky and anxious.

I asked the nurses and doctors
if maybe these were panic attacks

caused by postpartum depression -
I had just given birth, after all.

But the on-call nurse practitioner
who breezed in and then out of my room

with my discharge papers told me

I was simply dehydrated
and needed more rest.

So over the next few days, I focused
on eating, drinking water, resting,

giving myself the space and the time
to recover from childbirth.

I even visited my OB-GYN office
in person this time,

asking more questions about PPD.

But this time, I was told
not to jump to any conclusions

or to rush into taking medication,

and instead, to first try
talking it out with a therapist.

But unfortunately,

my situation got much worse
before I started any treatment.

Two and a half weeks postpartum,
I had a severe panick attack

that lasted over 24 hours.

I actually began hallucinating.

We were at the park,

and I actually envisioned my children
being attacked violently

by the Canadian geese
that were grazing in the grass nearby.

Then on our walk home, I had more visions.

This time, of my kids
being run over by cars and killed.

I was so shaken with anxiety

that I was convinced
I was having an actual heart attack.

I told my husband, "Something isn't right.

Perhaps I'm bleeding internally,

or maybe I actually do have
Brugada syndrome."

On our way back to the ER,
I nearly jumped out of our moving car

when I had another hallucination -

this time, of our infant's car seat

detaching and slamming
against the side of the door.

When we got there,

the check-in clerk recognized me
from the week prior,

and she smiled at me sympathetically
as she took my vitals.

My heart beat normally this time.

But I wasn't leaving without a diagnosis.

The ER doctor came in -

a different one than the week prior -

and this time,

he spent just five extra minutes
to actually listen to me talk

about how I've been feeling.

He showed me compassion

when he sat down on my hospital bed,
squeezed my big toe gently

and told me I had postpartum depression.

He said PPD is common,
that it looks different in every woman

and that I would fully recover.

He then prescribed two medications
and told me to be patient

because anti-depressants can take
up to three weeks to begin working.

Now, up until this moment,

I'd never suffered from serious,
ongoing depression before.

And I'd never taken
medication for anxiety.

I was a healthy, mostly put-together,
high functioning human.

I felt like I had reached a new low.

Then over the next two months,
I suffered deeply,

feeling short-tempered
and agitated one moment,

and then uncontrollably sad the next.

I cried so hard for so long some days,

I thought I would dry up completely.

PPD made me hate myself inside and out.

I referred to myself daily
as lovely little pet names,

like "vegetable" and "psychopath"
and "crazy person."

I thought I was lazy and disgusting
and a horrible mother.

I blamed myself for PPD,

thinking, "I must've done
something to deserve this."

And on that hot night in July,

when my fan hissed those
scary demands above me

about singeing my children's clothing,

my thoughts also carried me
one step further.

I actually envisioned walking
to the drawer in the kitchen

where we keep our matches.

I didn't think I would actually
burn or kill my kids.

But just to be sure,

I made my husband
hold my hand that night

while we both lay awake in the dark
just to keep me accountable.

My youngest son is one and a half now.

We all survived this!

Yay!

(Applause)

But I am most definitely
still a work in progress, guys.

I still take a daily medication
to cope with my anxiety.

And like any human,

I still have plenty of days
when I feel worthless.

But at my lowest point,

I thought I would never function
or work or be normal again,

and yet here I am!

Moms, PPD is not your fault.

But your symptoms are real.

Get treatment now!

You'll recover from this very
common condition in new mothers.

And when you do,
I hope you will share your story

with every mom you know.

We all need to start talking
about postpartum depression.

Thank you very much.

(Cheers) (Applause)