Kaitlynne Vasquez
“My wish for other expectant parents is that they believe in themselves, and that they know that the best parent for their baby is them. Make a plan for sleep, and have at least one person for emotional support. There is such a shift in identity – that is unavoidable – and you need a safe place to let it all out. Lastly, if you're reading this and you are in the trenches, hear me when I say: It Gets Better.”
Kaitlynne Vasquez lives in Central Massachusetts with her husband, two children, and cats. She loves attending Pure Barre classes, trying out new restaurants, and listening to podcasts. She has worked in the mental health field since 2007 and currently works full time for Tufts Health Plan as a Utilization Reviewer and has a virtual private practice where she treats other expectant and new parents.
This blog is made possible by a sponsorship from Sage Therapeutics. All content on this page has been curated by the Mass. PPD Fund without input from Sage Therapeutics, Inc.
May 1 | Interviewed and edited by Jessie Colbert, Executive Director, Mass. PPD Fund
Did you have expectations about bringing home a new baby? What did you think it would be like? What were your hopes and fears?
I thought that if I had everything planned out – aka the nursery and all of the items we would need – that it would translate to a great postpartum experience. I worked with a birth doula and a lot of my attention and focus went to labor and birth. I really didn't think beyond that.
We chose not to find out the sex and we were excited about it being a surprise. I think underneath all of that I had expected it would be a girl. And it was clear that a lot of people in my life hoped it would be a girl. I thought breastfeeding would be easy and natural, and it wasn't. I assumed I would have that instant connection you see in the movies.
I think my fear going into being a first-time parent was simply that I wouldn't be a good mom or that I wouldn't enjoy it. I mean, for a long time I didn't actually expect to have kids. There were a solid few years where it was just going to be us. And then my friends started to have kids, and then we got married and I kind of changed my tune.
Oftentimes when a baby is born, parents have plenty of support for the baby, but not a lot of support for themselves. Did you feel like you had people looking out for you?
We chose not to have any visitors for an entire week when we returned home from the hospital. I wanted to get to know the baby and try to figure it out for the three of us. Prior to becoming a mom, I thought that it would be fine just me and my husband. Like, We got this, how hard can it be? Now I know that that was not the best way to start off becoming a parent for me and for us.
So no, I didn't even think who was going to support me. Friends and family offered support and help in the ways they could, and we received gifts for the baby and for me, but it was all material items. No one sat me down and asked, How are you, REALLY? in the early days. Looking back, that's what I needed: emotional support.
Tell me about your journey with mental health challenges around your new baby. When did you realize something was “not right”? What turned things around for you?
As soon as he was born, I was hit with shock and disappointment [about it being a boy], and then guilt and shame overtook me for feeling this way. But I didn't have words for it then. I definitely think that impacted my journey into becoming a mom. I didn't feel that instant connection. Looking back at birth photos, I am crying, but I see sadness in my eyes versus happiness. I didn't know what I was doing in terms of breastfeeding. I remember putting a lot of pressure on myself to push forward, despite not enjoying it and wanting my body back. Then more guilt and shame was layered on for wanting to stop breastfeeding. I kept stuffing it down and putting on a happy face.
He was born in September, so it was starting to get darker earlier. As soon as it got dark, I would cry. I dreaded the night. So, every day by five o'clock, I was pretty much a mess – anxious for the night of no sleep, and rageful that I was home all day with a baby. That first week, I remember having just a complete mental breakdown one day after my family left.
When he was around 8 weeks old, I made a huge decision to leave my current job and begin a brand-new one. The responsibilities and pressures I put on myself continued to grow. I felt like a shell of my old self, and lost my identity. A huge part of my identity prior to becoming a mom was being a Pure Barre instructor. I lived at the studio, my friends were there, and that’s how I spent my free time. I no longer taught after he was born, and I could barely make it to the studio to exercise or attend events. I resented the baby for taking that away from me. I didn’t expect to feel like I lost so much of who I was. Now I know that everything can coexist, things change, and now it is still part of my identity but in a different way. But the identity piece was a huge part for me that I didn't realize until I was out of the trenches.
I have a vivid memory of one night when my husband had left out a sippy cup of milk from the morning, which isn't a big deal. I lost it. Ensue rage. I threw the cup. Milk went everywhere. Instant guilt and shame spiral. I felt angry at myself, and then began to severely bang my head with my hand. My husband witnessed me doing it and said, This isn't you, something's wrong. I knew it, too. I had never hurt myself before. For a while I minimized it, thought it would go away once I got settled in the new job and the baby started sleeping more. I actually thought that this was how motherhood felt. One day I had a lightbulb moment – stressors had settled and he was sleeping, but I still had this rage inside me, and my go-to coping was to bang my head. I didn’t feel like myself and knew I needed to reach out to a professional.
The first person that I reached out to was our sleep consultant. She gave me names of two perinatal therapists and I emailed immediately. I was really lucky – one had an opening for me the next week. She also referred me to her perinatal prescriber. I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders when she named the postpartum depression and anxiety. I was like, So this ISN’T how motherhood is supposed to feel?! I felt this instant validation and hope that things would get better. I sought out a mom community called More than Mom, attended workshops, and joined a book club where we read books on motherhood. Maternal mental health awareness week came, and I started to speak out about my experience on my personal social media and with people in my life. So many other moms messaged me privately or commented. I had this moment of, Everybody's experiencing this and no one's talking about it!
Looking back, what do you wish you had known? What do you wish had gone differently? How can we do better in general to prevent experiences like yours?
I wish I knew that gender disappointment was a thing. I just thought I was an ungrateful and bad mom for hoping for a girl. I will say, I have two boys now and I can’t envision my life any other way! I did find out [the sex of my second son] to give myself the opportunity to process. And the second time around when I found out it was a boy, I was excited and felt an instant connection.
I also knew choosing to formula-feed would be best for the entire family. We also didn't really talk about the postpartum plan [the first time], so that was a huge focus. Planning for sleep was a top priority. I asked for help the second time - and didn't feel an ounce or guilt shame. We didn't limit visitors – it was the more the merrier the second time. I went back into therapy prior to having my second and stayed on medication. I had friends and family I knew I could go to for emotional support, and they knew what questions to ask.
Do you identify as a “survivor”?
Yeah, I think I do. A survivor never forgets the emotions they experience when they went through that pain and suffering. I can just feel on a really deeply empathic level with other moms. I get it. But I also know that, now being on the other side of things, I can sit with their pain. I know that there's light and hope at the end of the tunnel. I think a big part of being a survivor for me, doing the professional work I do now, is that I know I'm strong enough to hold the hope for others until they can hold it for themselves.
I enjoy talking about my experience and connecting with other moms. I won't say I'm glad it happened. I will say that the experience has given me more than what it took. My first-born has taught me more about myself, love, and the world, than I could ever imagine, and I feel an immense amount of gratitude.
What is the most important thing you’d like to share with other new parents, especially this Mental Health Awareness Month?
My wish for other expectant parents is that they believe in themselves, and that they know that the best parent for their baby is them. I also want them to know that their child's behavior is not a reflection of their worthiness as a person. Your worthiness is not determined by if your newborn had 10 wet diapers on their seventh day of life, or sleeps through the night by 12 weeks. Make a plan for sleep, and have at least one person for emotional support. There is such a shift in identity – that is unavoidable – and you need a safe place to let it all out and know that the other person can hold that for you. Lastly, if you're reading this and you are in the trenches, hear me when I say: It Gets Better.