In this essay I address some challenges I had to overcome as a non-tenured mathematician mother married to another mathematician. While some of these challenges, such as lack of sleep, were predictable, many were not. For example, I was not aware that just getting pregnant would be a difficulty. Also, I did not know how paralyzing postpartum depression could be. Looking back on these experiences after a few years, I have a new perspective. I share my experiences, feelings about them, and some of the ways I figured out to overcome the hardships I experienced

Rafizadeh, Azadeh

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Journal of Humanistic Mathematics Volume 8 | Issue 2 July 2018 From Ecstasy to Agony and Back: Mathematics, Motherhood, and Postpartum Depression Azadeh Rafizadeh William Jewell College Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarship.claremont.edu/jhm  Part of the Arts and Humanities Commons, and the Mathematics Commons Recommended Citation Rafizadeh, A. "From Ecstasy to Agony and Back: Mathematics, Motherhood, and Postpartum Depression," Journal of Humanistic Mathematics, Volume 8 Issue 2 (July 2018), pages 179-187. DOI: 10.5642/jhummath.201802.20 . Available at: https://scholarship.claremont.edu/jhm/vol8/iss2/20 ©2018 by the authors. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License. JHM is an open access bi-annual journal sponsored by the Claremont Center for the Mathematical Sciences and published by the Claremont Colleges Library | ISSN 2159-8118 | http://scholarship.claremont.edu/jhm/ The editorial staff of JHM works hard to make sure the scholarship disseminated in JHM is accurate and upholds professional ethical guidelines. However the views and opinions expressed in each published manuscript belong exclusively to the individual contributor(s). The publisher and the editors do not endorse or accept responsibility for them. See https://scholarship.claremont.edu/jhm/policies.html for more information. From Ecstasy to Agony and Back:Mathematics, Motherhood,and Postpartum Depression1Azadeh RafizadehDepartment of Physics and Mathematics, William Jewell College, Liberty, Missouri, USArafizadeha@william.jewell.eduSynopsisIn this essay I address some challenges I had to overcome as a non-tenuredmathematician mother married to another mathematician. While some of thesechallenges, such as lack of sleep, were predictable, many were not. For example,I was not aware that just getting pregnant would be a difficulty. Also, I did notknow how paralyzing postpartum depression could be. Looking back on theseexperiences after a few years, I have a new perspective. I share my experiences,feelings about them, and some of the ways I figured out to overcome the hardshipsI experienced.Keywords: mathematics, motherhood, postpartum depression1. The BeginningI grew up in a traditional family, in a traditional culture, where womenwere second-class citizens. I was supposed to get married at an early age,have a few children, and have the biggest part of my identity be servingmy family as a wife and mother. Well, this path was just not for me. Iimmigrated to the United States as a religious refugee (I am from Iran andI am Jewish), when I was nineteen. Soon enough I discovered my love formathematics and decided I wanted to learn and teach it for the rest of my life.1 To Evan, who has made me a better person and my world more beautiful.Journal of Humanistic Mathematics Vol 8, No 2, July 2018180 From Ecstasy to Agony and BackSo I needed to get my Ph.D. I met my husband in graduate school and wegraduated in the same year. We were lucky enough to solve our two-bodyproblem within a year in a location we like, even though it is far away fromboth our families. When we started our positions we were both on the tenuretrack and making a good income. Math had saved me from a life that wouldhave made me miserable, and had brought me the opportunity to live mydream.We decided to start a family. We wanted to have two children and I was inmy mid-thirties. Assuming that there would be no problems, we planned toget pregnant at the beginning of the academic year so the baby would beborn near or during the summer break. It turned out that getting pregnantwas not as easy as one might think, at least not for us.To make a long story short, it took us two years, visiting two infertilityclinics, one surgery, and some fertility treatments to get pregnant. The babywas due in February. We did not care that we would not have a spring babyat this point. We were extremely happy.2. It’s a Boy!I was induced on my due date and after eight hours of labor, I had a C-section.Our healthy and beautiful son was born. We were over the moon. Becauseof my complicated relationship with my family, I had asked my parents notto visit for a while. So it was just the three of us when we got home.I had heard many horror stories about the pain and discomfort that followsa C-section, but I was doing remarkably well. I could move around easilywithout much pain and I felt happier than ever. I felt that I was in par-adise for the first week. The only problem was that I did not have muchsuccess breastfeeding and I did not produce much milk. I could only pumpenough milk to feed him twice a day. After consulting with three lactationconsultants, I had made my peace with this.When our son was eight days old, he became lethargic and we could not wakehim up. We called the pediatrician’s office, and the nurse on call told us totake him to the emergency room immediately. I would not feel happiness foralmost two years after that day, although I did not know this at the time.Azadeh Rafizadeh 1813. I Moved From Heaven to HellWhen we got to the children’s hospital I crashed, both physically and emo-tionally. They needed to get me a wheelchair because I could not walk fromthe entrance to the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). While my hus-band was crying, I was completely numb, staring into space and preparingmyself for my precious son’s death. This actually became a source of frictionbetween us later, as my husband could not understand why I was dealingwith the pain so differently. I did not want to talk and I did not shed a singletear. Did I not love my son? Later I learned through therapy that somepeople react to extreme distress the way I did: by being in complete shockand numbness. When my mother found out what was going on she blamedme for not taking good care of my son (she still criticizes my parenting ona regular basis). The doctors thought the medication I was prescribed toreduce the pain from my C-section could be the reason for my son’s condi-tion. So not only I was inadequate in feeding my child, but what I was ableto provide for him was poisoning him. Basically, I was getting the messagefrom various sources that I was to blame. And I believed it.It turned out that he had a cold virus and we took him home after fivedays. However, this time when we got home, not only was I not happy andenergetic like the first week, but I was tired all the time and I felt a very deepsadness. It felt like I was stuck under a heavy, smelly, and scratchy blanket,and no matter what I did, I could not get my head out to breathe.4. My Illness Went Undetected and UntreatedI learned two interesting facts during this period. The first was that postpar-tum depression is the most common complication of childbirth. The secondwas that both the OB-GYN and the pediatrician give every new mother ashort questionnaire to determine whether she suffers from it. For me, theseappointments happened during my son’s stay at the NICU or shortly afterhe got out. Even though my evaluation results put me in the depressedzone, the doctors assumed it was due to sadness caused by the extraordinarysituation, and that it was temporary.My memories of the following six weeks are quite foggy. All I rememberis always being exhausted, not getting any joy out of caring for my son,and a lot of crying. I had arranged for an eight-week maternity leave,182 From Ecstasy to Agony and Backbut I desperately wanted to go back to work. During those weeks I hadto visit my dentist to get a root canal. As I was driving to my appoint-ment, I felt I was driving to a resort. What was wrong with me? I hadwanted a baby so desperately and had gone through a lot to have one.Was I not supposed to be happy and filled with joy? Had I made a mis-take? Was motherhood not for me? Would he be better off without me inhis life? I concluded that I was not meant to be a mother, and that I wasa terrible one to my child. Not surprisingly, this added to my misery and Istarted crying more.5. I Went Back to WorkEven though it seemed like it would never end, my maternity leave endedand I got to go back to work. This made me feel better, because I was waymore comfortable in my role as a faculty member than I was as a mother.This was an environment where I repeatedly got positive feedback. Onceagain, math was saving me.Going back to work opened a new can of worms. I would hear (or read) fromstay-at-home moms that they felt very fortunate that they did not have togo to work. I also heard from some working mothers that they wished theycould afford to stay home with their young children. I read in psychologyarticles how important it was for children’s emotional health to have a singlecare-giver (of course the mother) for the first two years. All of this added tomy level of guilt. I even felt bad because I enjoyed going to work.I should mention here that my husband and I took care of our son full-timefor the first two years by arranging our teaching during complementary daysand times. We were working full-time at demanding jobs, we were untenured,we did not have help from our families, and we did not hire a nanny. Duringhis second year, we hired babysitters for about three hours a week because wewere working on a research project together. Needless to say, these conditionsput a lot of pressure on our marriage. My husband had been my best friendfor years, and at this point, as we moved from being partners to being onlyco-parents, I felt more and more isolated. The only adults I felt connected towere my students, and the only place I felt confident was work. I felt uselessand worthless at home, both as a mother and as a wife.Azadeh Rafizadeh 183Eventually, the depression and lack of sleep began affecting my brain andmy mathematical abilities. I made many mistakes while teaching. It wasdifficult to think at a high level to conduct any research. My ability todo mathematics, which had saved me from many undesired situations wasslipping away. I felt that I was good for nothing.6. I’m Diagnosed With Postpartum Depression—Now What?A few months after I gave birth, I needed to see my family doctor for anunrelated reason. Within the first five minutes of our visit she told me thatI had postpartum depression and the sooner I got on medication the better.Since I had a history with the disease (I took anti-depressants for six monthsin graduate school, but that is a different story), she did what made the mostsense: she prescribed me the same medication that had worked well for mebefore.The first time I had experienced clinical depression, I had a healthy point ofview about it: it was a disease caused by chemical imbalance and I neededsome help from the outside to become the real me again. However, it wasdifferent this time. I did not feel that I was ill; I felt that I was a bad person.I was also experiencing an identity crisis. The first time I had experiencedclinical depression, I knew exactly who I was: a female graduate studentstudying mathematics, who had developed test anxiety, and needed to passqualifying exams. This time I did not even know who I was. If I stayedat school for a minute longer than I had to to answer a student’s questionor talk to a colleague, I would feel guilty towards my husband and son.If I made mistakes during lecture, or could not answer students’ questionsbecause of lack of sleep, I felt guilty towards my students. Since I neededa particular teaching schedule to be able to coordinate with my husband’sschedule, I felt guilty towards my colleagues and department chair. At thetime, I was serving on the Promotion and Tenure Committee and becauseof my restricted schedule the committee had to meet on Fridays at 4:15 pm.This added a new group of colleagues I assumed hated me. Which role wasmy primary role? I was lost and confused.Nonetheless, I took the medication as directed. It made it difficult to wakeup in the middle of the night to feed my son. My doctor changed the medica-tion. I got too drowsy in the morning to drive to work. She changed it again.184 From Ecstasy to Agony and BackI could not sleep for forty eight hours and my hands started shaking uncon-trollably. She switched me to a different one. I did not experience severe sideeffects. So I kept taking this medication for about nine months.The sadness stayed, but I noticed I could not cry anymore. I did not evenenjoy my work anymore. My view of myself did not change; I was a terriblemother and I knew it. However, I learned to pretend. I would go to thebathroom, look in the mirror, literally put on a face that did not show how Ifelt, and would go back to the room to spend time with my son. In fact, I gotso good at pretending that even my husband could not tell I was suffering.This went on till June, when my son was sixteen months old.7. My Savior Showed upWe have a good friend from graduate school who got a position at a school afew hours away from us. We are fortunate that she has a commitment in ourcity every June, so we get to see her and spend some quality time with herat least once a year for a few days. When she visited in 2015, after a coupleof days she asked me, “so, how are you doing?” I said I was fine and askedwhy she asked. She said that she thought there was something off about mybehavior, that it seemed I was two different people depending on whether ornot my son was present. I told her that I felt sad and tired and defeated allthe time, and that I tried very hard to act happy when I was around my son.She told me she did not think my depression was under control. When I toldher I was too tired to do anything about it, she convinced my husband thatI was sick and that they needed to help me. The two of them did researchonline and found a therapist they thought would be able to get through tome. This gave me new hope that I did not have to live a miserable life forever.8. I Saw the Light at the End of the TunnelI made an appointment with the therapist. My husband and my friend wereright; she was great. She gave me homework: material to read and questionsto answer about my identity. She helped me eliminate or change some of mydysfunctional relationships. She also recommended a good psychiatrist. Eventhough I had to try a few other medications, this psychiatrist finally founda combination that worked well. Once I started therapy and the medicationthat was right for me, the recovery started. I could feel that for a few hoursAzadeh Rafizadeh 185a day I could get out of the heavy, smelly, and scratchy blanket. I was trulyenjoying my son. After a few months I actually felt happiness for the firsttime in a few years. Little by little I (almost) got my old brain back. Onceagain I felt like a successful and capable professor. Also, I was able to seethat I was already a good mother and I learned ways to become a better one.After all, as a trained mathematician, I have learned skills to read and re-search and learn new things all the time.9. The Good ThingsThis essay paints a dark picture up to this point. However, there were somepositive aspects to my experience.• I have always been a shy, introverted, and reserved person. However,being tired and emotionally vulnerable for an extended period of timehelped me open up in ways I never had before. This got me closer tomy colleagues, turned some colleagues to friends, and made me morerelatable to my students. I no longer seemed like a well–organizedworkaholic who rarely made mistakes.• I was trained as a low-dimensional topologist and I work at a liberalarts college. When I felt that my brain could not handle high-levelmathematics anymore, I was forced to change my research area so thatI could remain an active scholar. This allowed me to involve my (un-dergraduate) students in research, which I enjoy a great deal.• Being a teacher has given me some insights about how be a goodmother. Respecting my son and listening to him are skills I practice asa teacher all the time.2 Being a scholar has helped me realize there arescholars doing research on parenting. This might seem obvious to some,but I know for a fact that not all parents have this approach. I searchedfor answers in books and articles and found some good information andgood advice.2 Editor’s Note: Several articles in this issue explore commonalities between parent-ing and teaching; see in particular the contributions of Aliza Steurer and Ksenija Simic-Muller.186 From Ecstasy to Agony and Back• Becoming a mother has made me kinder and more compassionate to-wards my students. If I wonder how to address a difficult issue, I thinkof what I would want if I were the student’s mother.• I have learned to have balance in my life. And to accept that I do notneed to work fifty hours a week on a regular basis, hold review sessionson weekends, grade every exam within two days, and have my officedoor open all the time. I also do not need to say “yes” every time Iam asked to serve my profession or I am asked to get involved in aresearch project. Being a graduate student trains one to do work orthink about work at almost all waking (and sometimes sleeping) hours.But, for most people, work is only part of life and not all of it. I didnot learn to make this transition until I became a parent.• I have realized that I have the brain power and the discipline to get mylife back. I also have people in my life to give me support of variouskinds. I had the attitude that I was strong and independent, and thatI needed no help. It was empowering to learn that it is okay to needhelp.10. Some Final ThoughtsGiven my history, I do not feel qualified to give anyone any advice. However,these are some points to think about.• Getting a Ph.D. in mathematics is so difficult that one might feel that ifthey can accomplish that, then they can do almost anything. This is nottrue, as different people have different skills. For example, we do learnpatience and perseverance as scholars and teachers, but compassion isnot a part of our training. Also, as mathematicians, logic and deductivereasoning drive our work; but this approach does not necessarily helpwhile raising a child. (As we all know at some level, little people arecompletely driven by their emotions.)• Women receive the message that being a mother is in their instincts, butthis is also not true for everyone. Some of us need to learn the skills thatmake one a good mother. If being a mother does not seem like the mostnatural thing to you, it does not mean there is anything wrong with you.Azadeh Rafizadeh 187It seems to me that parenting is very much like learning to play amusical instrument. Some are more gifted than others. Nevertheless,everyone needs to practice and work hard to become a good parent.• We can play many roles and do all of them well. Being a mother anda professional woman is possible. It is okay to love your career; it doesnot mean you love your children any less than you would if you were astay-at-home mom. The key is to accept that for some periods we maybe better in one than the other, and that these periods alternate.• Once you have a baby, the nature of your relationship with your sig-nificant other will change. You will need to reconfigure your marriagein a way that includes being parents.• Depression is a medical condition. And the depressed person is usuallynot able to evaluate the situation accurately. So it is important to beopen with people you love and trust and take their advice.Once my illness was treated and I learned the basics of parenting, my lifebecame what I always wanted. At this time I consider myself one of the mostfortunate people I know, as almost all my dreams have come true. I love myjob and where I live, my marriage is successful and can handle difficulties,and I have a son who is happy and healthy, whom I love to the moon andback! I could not have asked for a better life.

From Ecstasy to Agony and Back: Mathematics, Motherhood, and Postpartum Depression

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From Ecstasy to Agony and Back: Mathematics, Motherhood, and Postpartum Depression

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