Cailin, I'm so sorry for what you're going through. This thread has been amazing though.
I have been lurking and occassionally participating in a few threads relating to PND, as I'm gradually coming to realise that I probably did have it, but never had the strength to admit it, or ask for help.
My eldest is 4 and my youngest nearly 3 - having them so close together, whilst I think it was the right thing to do for us - meant that my miserableness was just prolonged.
There were several factors that contributed, including no family on either side in the country (plus, my own lovely Mum died 10 years ago and I missed her like buggery). But in all honesty, as contentious as this may sound, I blame the pressure I put on myself to breastfeed as the biggest contributing factor.
My Mum BF back in the 70s when it wasn't fashionable to do so, and always felt that it was the best thing to do for your baby. And in her absence, I felt as if I had to live up to this, and that formula feeding just simply was not an option. In hindsight, there is no way she would have wanted me to be so unhappy for the sake of BFing, but I couldn't see the wood for the trees.
I BFd my 2 for 13 and 16 months respectively, and being the sole night time feeder and the only one who could meaningfully provide any comfort for pretty much the first year of their lives nearly drove me into the ground.
The sleep deprivation night after night after night after night. Seething with resentment and actual hatred for my sleeping DH for a choice I had made and was unwilling to compromise on fucked with my head. I know now that I was being unreasonable, but at the time, I couldn't bear him. He wanted to help; for me to express if I wasn't willing to give formula, but the thought of hooking myself up to an expressing machine on top of being latched to the babies 24/7 made me almost (actually?) hysterical.
And the crying... Both mine were cryers in the 6-12 week period. :( I have pretty much tried to block those times out of my memory.
I would see friends and relations post pics of them and their babies on FB, status updates, etc, and they seemed to be genuinely enjoying babyhood and it seemed so unfathomable to me. I wondered why I was so bad at it, and why I was doing it do wrong to hate it so much. It's not fucking rocket science; I'm an intelligent person. Why is it So. Damn. Hard?? Why?
I think I have come out the other side, but we 'emigrated' back to my home country when the DC were 2.3 and 0.9 respectively, and I think that exacerbated it to a very large degree - huge reverse culture shock which I utterly wasn't expecting, and massive 'home' sickness for my adopted country (and friends) that we'd left behind. Our 'lost life', I call it now. We were so naive. Why we moved to the other side of the world when our children were that age, I will never fully understand, I don't think. How to make a hideous situation unbearable... I feel like I am sinking again, and recognise all the old feelings and misery, as life here doesn't really get any better. It's only now, going through this, that I am beginning to come to terms with my likely PND.
On the plus side, we have been blessed with the two most amazing little people that we are so incredibly lucky to have. I wish I could have enjoyed them sooner. They are both utter delights and I don't deserve them.
x