I’ve Been the Antagonist to a Knock-Knock Joke for Too Long

Summary

A mother reflects on her struggle with postpartum depression, initially unrecognized and untreated, and her journey towards overcoming it after the birth of her second child.

Abstract

The narrative describes a woman's experience with postpartum depression following the birth of her first child. She faces the daily challenges of caring for a newborn, including the baby's fussiness and difficulty sleeping, while her husband works long hours. The mother, suffering from brain fog and isolation, does not immediately recognize her depression, which she compares to an unwelcome visitor. As she adapts to motherhood, she learns to acknowledge and cope with her mental health, finding strength and resilience. With the arrival of her second child, she is better equipped to confront and ultimately triumph over her depression, realizing that the internal battle she faced no longer controls her life.

Opinions

The author conveys the feeling that societal expectations and advice can sometimes be at odds with personal experiences and mental health needs.
There is an underlying sentiment that mental health issues, particularly postpartum depression, are often stigmatized, leading to reluctance in seeking help.
The mother's journey suggests that recovery from depression is not linear and may involve relapses, but with each episode, she gains more insight and control.
The comparison of depression to an unwelcome visitor emphasizes the intrusive and persistent nature of the condition.
The author implies that resilience and self-awareness are key to overcoming mental health challenges, and that it is possible to emerge victorious from such struggles.

It’s not funny

Knock knock.

She wasn’t expecting anyone. Who could it be?

She had spent the past few months in melancholy. By her lonesome looking after the baby. It was another run-of-the-mill day. Make a routine for yourself, was the advice she got from family and friends. It will make it easy on you and the baby. Day in; day out. She committed. She heeded. While it worked, it was ho-hum. No-one said take advice with a pinch of salt. She wasn’t naive or ignorant, although she did seem to suffer from brain fog after having the baby.

Her husband worked long hours, even after the baby was born. When 5 pm rolled around, so did witching hour. The baby refused to nap, overtired. She had to put him in the stroller and wheel him around the house till he got drowsy. Even then, he wouldn’t fall asleep unless in her arms — that too, while she stood or walked around. Because as soon as she bent to sit down, the crying would start. It was exhausting. Her mind couldn’t find a solution and her body ached. How can you get angry at a baby? But you can, sometimes. Back then, she didn’t know it was a survival instinct. She wondered when the happy days would come.

She saw other mothers looking so content with their babies strapped to them. No crying, sleeping throughout their shopping trips or walks in the mall. How did they do it? But what she didn’t see was how they went through the same challenges. They knew the best time to take them out and for how long. She knew that too, but any change in routine caused her baby to be fussier. He cried non-stop in the car seat for the first four months. Most babies like car rides. No, not hers.

Chances are, he sensed her anxiety. Horses can do that. They can pick up on your fears and anxieties. She remembers riding a horse for the first time. It picked up on her emotions, smelt them. The horse picked up its pace through the forest and headed straight for a tree with a low-lying branch. She remembers doing the matrix move — time slowed down; she had to bend backwards to dodge the branch, seeing it pass millimetres from her body and face. After passing and leaning forward, he slows down. As if she passed the test.

Who’s there?

That was the first time she experienced the blues. Or so she thought. She didn’t realize or want to accept it was depression. She let it in. Unknowingly, like a stranger at the door. It took many months to get over it. She didn’t seek help. Oh no, that would be shameful. As her baby grew older, it seemed to get better. That’s what she told herself. Over time, she came to realize what she was feeling and let it be. She wanted to show resilience — like she had her shit together — not masquerade under her vulnerabilities. That’s what people do — they hide them, like a dark secret.

The next time she let it in, she knew who it was. It came unannounced, but she invited it in any way, like a guest. Thinking she could handle it the second time around. Right? But, you can never know its true intentions. By now, she thought, she was aware and smarter. The brain fog had lifted a bit. She began to see clearer and be more herself again. Things were not great, but they were getting better. She survived.

Not you again.

At this point, she had her second baby. She had vowed not to have another. The first experience had stuck with her for the longest time. Little did she know she would forget. Good memories tend to wipe out the bad ones. With one notch under her belt, she thought the second time should be easygoing. You live, you learn. She had forgotten about her visitors. Until, one day, there was the dreaded knock at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone this time, too. Yet, she felt prepared for who it could be. She was stronger now, more in charge.

The third time lucky, she kicked its ass to the curb and made it clear, never show its ugly face ever again. For too long, it had made itself feel at home. Had gotten comfortable, taken advantage and wanted to stay. But it had overstayed its welcome.

She had fought the battle twice. She was ready to fight another day. When she realized she didn’t have to.

The battle was over. She had won the war.

Thank you for reading.