I’m not pregnant. But it wouldn’t be hard for me to get that way, and that’s kind of what this post is about. If you look at it another way, this post is about all women who could get pregnant and who are trying not to.
I’ve always wondered about people who believe depression to be solely rooted in a lack of faith. I’ve met and am related to a number of humans who think that other humans only get depressed when they aren’t worshiping God properly. That the reasons for depression couldn’t be biological. I also know and am related to a number of people who are depressed. How could I not be? A good number of my family either have thyroid disorders or they lived through the Lebanese Civil War (and more recent wars on Lebanese soil).
Often, as I just did, it’s easy to pinpoint the source of depression–if you know its possible causes. A slow thyroid leaves one lethargic and sad. Watching your friends and family picked off in war or living under the constant threat of bodily harm leaves one mentally scarred. Sure, you could say that a person of strong faith should shrug at the scars of war, but that’s not how it happens. Sometimes people need help in order to lift their shoulders, let alone shrug off a sizeable emotional load. Believe me. I know. What I’m writing about today is a possible cause that many, many men and women overlook. That cause is the reason I recently was depressed to the point of violent anger and frequently unable to scrape myself off the floor. It is also the reason I am no longer depressed.
You may already know to what I am referring. If you do, good for you. If you don’t, write this down. Two words: birth control.
Before we get into this, I’m not arguing for or against birth control. I’ve used it. I believed it was a religiously acceptable decision. I don’t think it’s for everyone. In fact, I don’t think it’s for most people, but that’s because of what it can do to the body, not because of what it prevents the body from doing.
When G was about one year old, Nathan and I made the decision that I should get an IUD. I’d taken birth control pills before. Like a high number of women, I was sensitive to them. I tried several different kinds. They made me anxious, angry, just plain moody, sad, lethargic, violent, explosive, and suicidal. I remember very clearly the afternoon I spent curled up on the floor or the prayer room in a campus building trying to hold down the urge to die. I called a doctor and was asked if I could make it to the end of the pill cycle. If I could, then I would just stop taking the pill at that point. If not, well, we didn’t talk about that. The option was basically to call 911 and have myself committed and put on suicide watch. By the grace of God (my faith was the thing that stopped me from jumping off something), I made it to the end of that cycle and never took a pill again.
You can imagine that I was quite hesitant about using any type of hormonal birth control after that, but with my boys growing, a difficult pregnancy and frightening delivery behind me, and the feeling that I truly had everything I could possibly want or need (alhumdulillah), I decided to try the IUD to prevent any unplanned pregnancies. It was a trust in God but tie your camel type of thing for me. But the rope I used to tie my camel almost hung me.
I consulted with my OB, and he told me that most women, even those with sensitivities to birth control pills, don’t usually have trouble with an IUD. I had a Mirena put in. Seven months later I found myself whimpering on the floor, my heart beneath me as depression took over at regular intervals. I suffered flashbacks, extreme outbursts, I started yelling at my children. I even had to fight myself so that I wouldn’t hit them. I wanted to hurt Noah sometimes, but God protected all of us. Sure, three year olds can be frustrating, but I was just that far gone.
I couldn’t figure out what was happening to me. So much in my life had changed. It was the same the first time I took birth control. I was suffering what I referred to as the “anti period.” My schedule was backwards. I had three weeks on cycle and one week off, with cramps the whole time. The pill reversed that and things were normal again. My cramping was eased, but I was crazy. I assumed it was normal to feel as full of hate as I did. After all, I was a teenager. Now I am riddled with regret for all of the horrible things I did during that time. I was not myself. I know that now.
I switched pills near when I got religiously married. I think the one I was taking was pulled off the market for the symptoms I experienced. The new pill made me anxious. Instead of considering the pill as a source of anxiety (as well as the source for my heart irregularities and migraines–read the warnings, people!), I was medicated for anxiety. The result? I developed acid reflux and was medicated for that.
I switched birth control again a year or two later. I was wondering if maybe my persistent anxiety had to do with all that was going into my system. I don’t know what woke me up to what was going into my body, but I’m grateful for whatever it was. I started yearning for a more natural approach to my body’s needs. It turned out that I was right about the source of my anxiety, but things only got worse.
I tried three different pills. The first made me moody. The second gave me headaches, I believe. The third brought me to the brink of killing myself. I went off the pill and tried Depo Provera injections. They took away my period (weird), but I was functional. Happier than I’d been in years and years, actually. But I didn’t like the unnatural lack of cycle it resulted in, so I went off that as well and used natural fertility methods. Not long after that, Noah became a twinkling in our eyes, then my womb, then a bright star guiding our lives. Next came Gabriel, and our lives were so full of joy we knew we didn’t need anymore. We’d rather appreciate our blessings.
So, we tried the Mirena.
I can’t express the level of sadness I feel when I think back on that choice. I was emotionally absent for nearly all of Gabriel’s firsts. I was intentionally mean to Noah, undermining his confidence and my own with the intense levels of anger coursing through my body at any moment. I was rude to my husband. I was a sad song for anyone who’d listen, constantly absorbed in worries that now seem minor. I was hateful to myself. I couldn’t feel happy. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t truly love. I didn’t see the point in anything.
Nathan told me he thought it was the IUD. I went back to my OB after writing a blog post I will never publish. Dr. Stowell expressed concern and removed the IUD immediately. I was hesistant, but he brooked no arguments. He left the room and came back after only a minute prepared to yank the damn thing out. He did.
Just as the doctor told me, I felt better by that evening. Every day the fog cleared a little more. I started reading again. I watched Jane Eyre on Netflix and fell in love again. I cried over A Little Princess. I enjoyed the taste of food. I was happy to see my husband. I smelled my children and hugged them tighter than I knew I could. I experienced life again. Life is so beautiful. Every minute facet is a welling spring of wonder.
I am fortunate to have fallen in love with my husband and children again. I am curious how many new mothers start birth control and experience post partum depression. I also wonder how many men have watched as their mother, wife, sister or friend has fallen to pieces or been transformed into a different person entirely by the added hormones being released into her body.
I’m happy to answer questions on this topic. Too many times doctors don’t. I’m told many don’t know the effects that birth control can have. It’s easy to prescribe an anti-depressant or to turn one’s thoughts toward other possible factors, but my doctor said it best: “It’s better to take care of the external variables before you try to treat something internal.” Basically, medication should be the last step after eliminating any possible external cause for depression. Take your body back to zero before you try to fix it. There might not be anything that needs fixing.
Now that I’ve said that every possible way, let me suggest that if you do take birth control, you and your loved ones track any changes in your behavior. Don’t end up divorced or dead. Depression can easily lead to that. It’s not just hard for you inside your body, it’s hard for everyone outside of it.
Let me leave you with this to chew on: since my depression has lifted, most of the anger and anxiety Noah had has lifted. I like my husband again. I can look in my baby’s eyes and smile. I don’t have to struggle not to hurt someone emotionally or physically on an hourly basis. I am writing again, the way I’ve always wanted to.
Think about yourself and the women you know. Think about your families. Do your research. Knowledge is the key to success.
