“Man Up” but All You Can Do Is Cry

Bright natural dining room nook with vases plates and fruits on the table.

Paternal postpartum depression. Yes, dads too.

The year 2020 will certainly go down in history for the destructive pandemic that turned our world upside down; yet, in our family history it is represented by a stone we stumbled on and later built upon. Our son, Caleb, was born July 2020. After a season of waiting for a child, Esteban and I were thrilled to begin our lives as a family of three. We were elated to share the news with our family and friends, prepared his room with homemade furniture and decor pieces, and counted down the days for his arrival. After 29 hours of labor, we met our little man. Due to COVID-19 hospital restrictions, we were not allowed any visitors which increased our anticipation to get home and introduce Caleb to his family. However, little did we know going home meant the start of a difficult season.

We were desperate to go home and strongly advocated for discharge once Caleb’s bilirubin levels were healthy enough for him to go home. We left the hospital on Friday at 10pm blissfully unaware of the night ahead. We entered our house with joy to see our bed, our room, and Caleb’s new room. However, we were naive to the unfamiliarity and newness this was for Caleb. Midnight drew near and our newborn son was learning his new environment. We stayed up most of the night trying to figure out why he was crying, trying to remember what the different poop colors meant, and desperately wanting help. At some odd hour of the morning, we were so exhausted and desperate for sleep that we got on our knees, played worship music, and just cried. However, little did we know the crying would continue.

Over the next few weeks, Esteban began experiencing thoughts and exhibiting behavior that was outside of his normal. Caleb’s cries were met with Esteban’s cries. There was something about the cries that just increased Esteban’s irritability, physical exhaustion, desire to just leave home, and at the lowest point a thought of just driving off a bridge. To say this was a difficult season in our marriage and parenting is an understatement.

We were quickly surrounded by family and friends who sat with us and prayed. We knew and experienced the love of God in the middle of chaos yet there was such a deep fog that Esteban could not see past. A few times Esteban was told just to shake it off or “man up”. While I wholeheartedly believe the words were said with the greatest intentions, they had the poorest impact on moving Esteban towards freedom. He had never experienced anything like this before and would say he would not wish this heaviness upon even his worst enemy.

I witnessed Esteban fight with all his might to shake this depression off but it would not leave. He had many 4am meetings with the Lord pleading for this fog to be lifted. He read Scripture, prayed on his knees, and the symptoms continued. Esteban reached out to a counselor who provided wonderful recommendations and truthfully helped assure Esteban of his salvation, the man he is in Christ, and the positive perspective on some of Esteban’s reactions.

On August 20, 2020 we received some difficult family news. I called Esteban with near hyperventilating tears to say I needed him to be there for me. He canceled his evening plans, had a hot chamomile tea ready when I got home, and assumed all responsibility for Caleb so I could just rest. After nearly a month of what felt like an endless storm, I finally felt like my boat started sinking. In a night of frustration and tiredness I gave in and said “maybe we aren’t cut out for [parenting]”. After a month of this deep heaviness in our midst - a period where words like “divorce” and “suicide” entered our home - the fog began to lift. There was something about my giving in to the dark that set Esteban ablaze. He describes it as if telling Satan, “you can mess with me but you will not mess with my wife and my home”. That was the day our stumbling stone turned into a stepping stone. That day was our Ebenezer moment where we laid a stone, knowing the Lord interceded and we met Him there.

Thus began our journey in sharing our experience with paternal postpartum depression and anxiety. While Esteban was never diagnosed and the counselor determined he was not at a point yet where he needed medicine, we became familiar with the reality of mental illness. Paternal postpartum depression and anxiety may not be the most common table talk but we want others to know that one study shows that 1 in 10 dads experience this. Let’s talk about the norms surrounding parenting struggles and discuss ways to support one another in encouraging speech and action. I am grateful for recent advocacy in calling for the need of perinatal depression screening for all caregivers, regardless of gender. Perinatal depression is real. Let’s talk about it.