Category Archives: life

Saturday Sundries 03.05.11: Husbands and Baby Blues

Welcome, y’all!

This morning I jumped out of bed, thinking I only had 20 minutes to get dressed and travel to my church for a Women’s Brunch. Turns out I had 50 minutes. I took the time to do dishes before I left. Once I arrived, I felt so blessed and loved. Women of all ages sat together at tables and shared their inspirations for daily faith and Christ-like living. One of the older women at my table cried as she shared her story. I left filled with a sense of camaraderie and connection with several new women in my Church. I am so grateful for the ability to meet in the open with people of the same faith – to be able to speak freely of my beliefs and of Christ’s power within my own life. There are so many places in the world where if you even mention Christ, you will be put to death. But not here.

I spoke of my Postpartum Depression and how God has used that to change my life and allow me to reach out to several women on a daily basis. You know what y’all? Not ONE woman at that table judged me for my hospitalization. Not one woman at that table loved me any less or told me I failed as a mother because I had Postpartum Depression. I know I speak about Postpartum Depression all the time online but I don’t get the opportunity to talk about it in person very often. To sit in sisterhood at a table with other mothers and not be judged for my experiences – WOW. So very grateful and blessed.

Today, I don’t have specific questions to answer. The questions I’ll be addressing are based on search terms which led people to my blog within the past seven days. If people are looking for these topics, I want to provide information to answer their unasked questions.

I wish every one of you a wonderful Saturday – one filled with insight, peace, and happiness.

And as always, take care of YOU first.

*The answers given here are written by me, a non-health care professional. I’m a mom who has been through hell with Postpartum twice, ante-natal depression once and has dedicated her life to learning all there is to know about Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders. Please check with your healthcare provider prior to implementing any of the information you may find below. It is NOT meant to be and/or replace professional advice or orders.

 

1) Should baby blues last for more than 4 weeks?

No. The blues should not last for more than 4 weeks. It may take up to 4 weeks for the blues to dissipate completely but if you are consistently experiencing what you feel are the blues for a solid 4 weeks, you really should talk with your doctor. Postpartum Depression also does not just manifest as “the blues.” There are other issues which are also included in the Postpartum spectrum. Anxiety, irritability, anger, intrusive thoughts, and obsessive-compulsive behavior are all symptoms that may manifest in an episode of a Postpartum Mood Disorder. Up to 80% of all new moms experience the blues. As many as 20% of those who experience the blues go on to develop a Postpartum Mood Disorder. Just because your symptoms of the blues are continuing past 4 wks does not mean you are developing a serious case of Postpartum Depression. But you should absolutely go see a health professional to explore what’s going on with you. Be sure to ask for a thyroid panel, an iron level check, and a Vitamin D level check to rule out any health issues for your continued struggles. It’s beyond important to get the Thyroid panel as Anti-depressants will NOT help with a thyroid issue – and may actually make things worse for someone with a severe thyroid issue, therefore delaying successful treatment and recovery. It’s also very important (and hard) not to blame yourself for Postpartum Depression. You have not done anything to deserve this or to cause this to happy. There is help, there is hope – and you are absolutely not alone as your journey toward recovery.

2) How does husband cope with postpartum?

There are several ways in which a husband copes with postpartum. The answer to this question really lies in what the person asking meant.

Does she mean if HE has postpartum? Or does she mean if SHE has postpartum? And then – does she mean What’s the best way for him to cope? Or how do most husbands in general cope with postpartum? I want to address all of those below in as succinct  a manner as possible.

If HE has postpartum: Men & women exhibit different symptoms when it comes to depression. Men keep quiet. They will stay at work longer, avoid home, self-medicate, get angry and irritable, shift blame, shirk responsibilities, blame themselves for the failure. If your husband is suddenly not at home as much, angry, frustrated, and not smiling or as easy going as usual – it might be time to try to get him to a healthcare professional. A great website to learn more can be found at Postpartum Men. It’s run by Dr. Will Courtenay, who is an expert in Male Depression. Dr. Courtenay is amazing and truly knows the male psyche. If you suspect your husband is struggling with depression, visit Dr. Courtenay’s site and then sit down to talk with your partner. Let him know you won’t judge him and encourage him to get help for himself and for his family.

If SHE has postpartum: He needs to avoid telling her to snap out of her depression first and foremost. Dive in with the chores, housework, and baby duty. Take older kids out to play. Change diapers before mom nurses at night or if she’s sleeping (those precious extra moments of sleep are heavenly). Also, he should read this cheat sheet for a fabulous list of things to say to his wife. Support her going to doctor’s appointments but don’t force her UNLESS she’s clearly expressed intent to harm herself or others. Never every sneak attack a psychiatric appointment on your wife. Bad juju.Very Bad juju. Ask how you can help. And then do it. Don’t wait for her to ask – because she won’t. Bottom line, love her, support her, and help with the work around the house. Give her time to heal and recover. It’ll be a thankless job but one day, she’ll tell you thank you. Trust me. I’m eternally grateful for the support I received from my husband during Postpartum. (This also covers the BEST way for him to cope)

How most husbands cope: The most common gut reaction is to deny there’s anything wrong. Some husbands even believe their wives are faking symptoms in order to get out of parenting responsibilities. Still others tell their wives to snap out of it. Or they believe that medication and doctors can’t do anything to help so they don’t support their wives seeking help, instead telling them that they need to suck it up and just tough it out. Husbands are just as shattered as we are when Postpartum strikes. They are lost – the woman they love with all their heart has faded away. She’s gone. In her place is a new woman, a shadow of the woman she once was – the woman she was maybe even hours before… they don’t know how to fix us. So they get angry, scared, and frustrated. They snap at us, not knowing how else to react. I would highly recommend getting a husband reacting in any of the aforementioned ways to attend a doctor’s appointment with you. A doctor will legitimize your experience for your husband. Many husbands have what we call “White Coat Syndrome,” ie, until he hears it from a doctor, it’s not real. It helps to get him to the Doctor because it involves him in the solution, thereby allowing him to “fix” the situation at hand in some way, which is what men excel at – solving problems. It’s not an easy ride with a husband who is not supportive. You’re also not alone in this – but when you have Postpartum, it is so very important to have support at home – get BOTH of you to the doctor as soon as possible. There is hope, even in this.

The more things change…

“Well, spring sprang. We’ve had our state of grace and our little gift of sanctioned madness, courtesy of Mother Nature. Thanks, Gaia. Much obliged. I guess it’s time to get back to that daily routine of living we like to call normal.”–David Assael, Northern Exposure

That’s pretty much how I feel about vacations. They’re nice little “springs” in our year, but after a season, it’s time to get back to normal. To our daily routines.

I’m resistant to change as a general rule. It just makes me all uncomfortable and out-of-sorts and irritable.

When we go out to eat, I have my “usual” at each location. (Bonus! Dan can order for me if I’m in the bathroom!)

I am always behind on almost any given fashion trend because at the time it debuts I think “How hideous!” and then, a year later, I find myself on the hunt for the perfect pair of rain boots or gladiator sandals or shade of nail polish. (Bonus! I find them on sale at T. J. Maxx because they are last season!)

I don’t often try new things.

I need our normal.  Apparently, so does Joshua.

As we were getting ready to leave the mountains on Sunday morning, Joshua started throwing a tantrum. Most of his tantrums are over nearly as soon as they begin. This one lasted for an hour.  At one point, I actually stuck my fingers in my ears in an attempt to drown out his…noise!

WhineCryScreamWhineCryScreamNoiseNoiseNoise.

I just couldn’t do it anymore!

I felt myself on the verge of a meltdown nearly as epic as his was at that moment. And I’m sure my friends wondered why I wasn’t doing anything about the tantrum. (Though, they too have a toddler and are likely as flummoxed as I was when their son goes into Tiny Terrorist mode. Everyone just kind of stands around dumbfounded and drooling like “uhhhh…..”.)

When things like that happen, I KNOW that 97% of the time they are because our routine has been interrupted.

If we have a bad evening, something was likely out-of-sorts that day at daycare. Or we made a detour by the grocery store on the way home. Something not normal happened and our normal shifted.

One of the things that helped me the most in the height of Joshua’s colic and the loneliness of PPD was going back to work the August after he was born. Because it gave me a routine. A normal. I knew what to expect. I’d been home with him for four months at that point and there was little to no routine.

I tried. Believe me. I tried. I used the ItzBeen timer. I looked for cues that he was sleepy or hungry or wanted to play. I tried, tried, tried to get him on a schedule and us into a routine that worked. And it was a futile attempt.

When I woke up from a nap on Sunday afternoon, a nap just like I take almost every Sunday afternoon, I felt instantly more calm than I had just hours before. I felt normal. Or like I was on the way back to normal. By the time we got home from the grocery store that evening, which is part of our Sunday routine, I felt even better. When my alarm clock went off Monday morning and I got dressed for work? I was myself again.

Establishing a routine was one of the most healthy and normal and normal things I did for myself two years ago.

A quick question thrown out to Twitter had three moms in five minutes telling me that routine was incredibly important to their recovery and that they felt great frustration and anxiety when they found themselves out of routine.

Instead of wallowing in the fact that we couldn’t even manage a simple weekend trip away from home without a meltdown (and I did, eventually, melt down once we got in the car—all over Twitter and the #PPDChat mamas!) I am reveling in the fact that routine is a way that I can cope with this illness.

Does this mean that we’ll never veer from our norm? Absolutely not. But it does mean that when there is a need for us to stray from our normal, it’s not the end of the world. Joshua will adjust and so will I and we’ll both be better for having lived and learned through a shared experience.

Though I think I’m the one doing most of the learning right now, and for now, maybe that’s how it should be.

 

Wordless Wednesday: Imperfectly Perfect

I know this is supposed to be wordless. Given that I’m the one hosting, I feel I’ll be forgiven for a few words. The other night, in #PPDChat, @jamesandjax suggested we all snap a photo of a messy area in our homes and our smiling children to post on Wednesday. For some of us, this means finally coming out of the “closet” if you will…. shedding the guilt we carry for not living up to the impossibly high standards of June Cleaver.

After a lot of consideration, I decided to snap a photo of the top of a kitchen cart. No matter how many times I try to clean it off, it gets covered up again, like a chaos magnet. Things come and go from the top of this cart more almost as often as a MARTA train. But there’s always a gaggle of things there. I have learned to live with it. One of these days, I’m going to keep it clean. And free of things which do not belong in the kitchen. Or maybe not. Either way, it’s okay. It’s mine and I’m okay with that. All that matters is that the kids have had a day full of love and laughter.

The other picture is one of my son, right after eating a very healthy breakfast of a Mixed Berry Fruit Bar. What? Grains and fruit!

Leave the link to your post below. All comments are moderated the first time they are left here due to the sensitive nature of my blog, but rest assured, I’ll be approving them as quickly as possible today (I can do so from my phone!)

I look forward to a whole slew of imperfectly perfect and HAPPY households today!!!

P.S. I couldn’t get my son to smile. But that’s okay – we’re being real here, right? Also, if you look closely at the kitchen cart, you’ll notice the drawer is broken. It’s been that way for a long time.

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Just Talking Tuesday: Redefining Perfect

Parenthood is messy in real life.

Hollywood, media, and advertisers would have you believe differently.

Your house is picture perfect. Hair – perfect. Toddlers perfectly dressed without a drop of food or stains anywhere, well behaved. Everyone smiles and says cheese.

Thing is – it’s all just that – a snapshot of perfection styled with the help of an entire crew for EACH PERSON in the photo, movie, or commercial.

What if you took a snapshot of your own life? Of your house? Yourself? Your toddler or baby?

What would it look like? Is it perfect?

I’m willing to bet it is perfect.

Maybe not by Hollywood’s standards.

But by REALITY’S standards.

Real life, as I said when I started, gets messy.

What matters at the end of the day isn’t that the sink is full of dishes.

It’s not the massive pile of laundry threatening to devour your entire house.

It’s not the food particles permanently affixed to your toddler.

It’s not that you didn’t get a chance to shower or put on make up.

It’s not that you’re still in your pajamas.

What matters at the end of the day is whether or not you connected with your children.

Whether or not, in THAT DAY, your children felt loved and felt a connection with you.

Because that is what they will remember – not the cleaner than clean house – they’ll remember the Mommy who took time for them. Who got down on their level and loved THEM.

That? Is perfect.

Come back at 7am for a link up here. Several of us will be posting pics of our imperfectly perfect houses a long with happy pictures of our toddlers.

Because that?

Is redefining perfect in the rawest form.

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Whatever Wednesday: My kids got sick and all I got was this lousy t-shirt

 

t-shirt photo sourced from http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1185427 Text added by Lauren Hale

 

Our family does not believe in visiting the pediatrician once in awhile.

No, we like to clump all our visits together. When I say together, I mean one right after another. We have visited the pediatrician’s office three times in one week, one appointment per kid.

Why can’t they get sick together??

Since the beginning of February we have all had some sort of ickiness. Our youngest was diagnosed with the flu. Our daughters both had the ickiness plus an ear infection a piece.

Oh, and then there’s the broken middle finger.

Our daughters were sick together. I took them to the pediatrician. As we got out of the car, my middle daughter wrapped her hand around the middle column of the car doors. I slammed my door shut. On her fingers. She immediately began to scream. Tears flooded her face. I asked what was wrong. She couldn’t tell me. Finally she pointed to her hand. Barely sticking out were her fingertips. My heart caught in my throat as I reached in to unlock the door. I fumbled and finally pulled the button upward. Grabbing the handle, I flung the door open and freed my poor daughter’s hand.

We got inside and I asked for ice.

Keep in mind that this poor girl is ALREADY SICK. Fever, sore throat, absolutely miserable thing.

We were sent for x-ray after her appointment.

I got a call the following day telling me that her middle finger was broken. The nearest orthopedist? 30 minutes away. Our appointment was in the morning. I had to get x-rays to take with me and make it to the appointment by 10am.

The orthopedist said the finger was barely broken, just a hairline fracture. We could buddy tape it for comfort if we wanted. Taping lasted a day and a half as our four year old kept pulling it off.

This past Monday I took her back to check healing progress. She’s just fine, I’m happy to report. I know my heart will soon heal but for days I felt horrible guilt for having broken a bone in my precious daughter’s body. It’s our responsibility to keep our children safe. I failed. I beat myself up royally for a few days. My husband assured me he had even warned our daughter to keep her hands out of that space in the car prior to my accident. I’m making peace with the fact that accidents happen. Certainly doesn’t make it hurt less but it helps. She’s been a trooper through all of this – bragging that her finger doesn’t even hurt.

And no, I didn’t really get a t-shirt. But I totally should have.