Just talking Tuesday: 15 minutes for YOU

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Yesterday during #PPDChat, I issued a challenge to fellow chatters as we shared our struggles with Parenting through Postpartum.

Every day this week, take just 15 minutes for you. Then tweet about what you did with those 15 minutes using the #PPDChat hashtag.

Your 15 minutes does not have to be all together. It can be spread out in 5 minute increments as one chatter said she often did.

Your time does not have to stop at 15 minutes either. It can keep going and going and going….

If you can’t get in 15 minutes total, try for at least 10.

Today, I took the long way home from Bible Study. The sky was a fantastic blue, complete with puffy white clouds dispersed throughout. Even Pandora cooperated, blasting out some classic tunes. I felt myself continuing to relax.

After lunch, I played around on our Wii. Not exercising, just playing. I never do that.

Once we had the kiddos in bed, I sat and read a book until I fell asleep. Again, I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep while reading a book. Not that the book wasn’t good, I was just that tired.

I spent more than 15 minutes on myself today and it totally rocked.

How much time did you spend on yourself today? What did you do with those minutes?

Any plans for tomorrow’s 15 minutes?

Tell us!

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A Valentine’s for Postpartum Depression

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Dear Postpartum Depression:

When I first laid eyes on you, I’ll admit, I wanted to run away. But I couldn’t. Instead I found myself lashed to the couch, unable to move.

You scared me with your moodiness, your dark huddling corner filled with horrific thoughts.

I hated you.

You made me a horrible person, filled me with a guilt which could not be contained by anywhere on Earth. You questioned every little thing I did, filled even the most simple of actions with doubt.

And I let you do it.

I let you make me believe I was imperfect. That I had failed. That I sucked. I was inferior. You made me feel inferior.

And I let you.

I gave my consent and I let you.

But then, oh, then.

The day came.

I woke up and saw what you had done to my life. To me. To my husband. To my children.

It had to stop.

You weren’t going to get my kids.

So I took a deep, sharp breath.

I called for help as you went hunting for newer mothers on whom you could prey.

I found help. Finally.

Step by step, fistful of dirt after another, I climbed out of the hole in which you had buried me long ago.

The first rays of sunlight washed over my face. I could smell the grass. See beautiful bright flowers. Hear the birds chirping.

Oh how I reveled in that day. Reveled.

But then…

then you shoved me back into my dirty, dank, and dirty hole, refusing to let me stay in my sunshine.

Once again, I took a deep, sharp breath and fought my way back to the top.

I need to see the flowers. I needed to feel warm sunshine on my face. I needed the rain to rinse you away.

As I surfaced, storm clouds brewed in the distance, the sky grumbling. I knew I had angered you. But I no longer cared. I stood up strong and brave on the greenest grass I had ever seen. You raced toward me, determined to knock me down again. I still stood strong. Even when you knocked me down, I got back up. Every time.

For you see, I am not alone.

I have God. He knows how big my storms are. Do you know how big He is?

I have friends who will not let me falter. I have an amazing husband who will bolster me when I need it the most.

I have love. I have knowledge.

Even more dangerously, I know I can beat you because I have done it before.

Even if you’re not Postpartum, I know you’ll be back. I know you will always hunt me. I stand ready to kick your ass time and again.

Bring.It.On.

This Valentine is not for you, you vain prick.

It’s for the myriad of women who have stood in the same place I have and not known how to fight back or that they could even fight back. You can fight back. You can win. You’re not alone. So many of us who have fought back are right there with you, beating Postpartum back for you until you can do it all on your own.

You are loved, always.

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Faith & Motherhood: 02.13.11: On Feeling Forsaken

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We turn to God for help when our foundations are shaking, only to learn that it is God who is shaking them.

~Charles C. West~

Just as mechanics kick the tires when evaluating a vehicle, carpenters shake foundations, kick legs, make sure they’re strong and will withstand the wear and tear that life will bring their way.

Sometimes? God does that with us.

Every so often, He shakes our foundations to make sure we’re awake. To make sure that we are growing strong in Him as we journey through life.

It’s not fun when God shakes your foundations. Sometimes He shakes them until they break. Then we are left to decide if we will rebuild.

The thing is? God knows what we will do before we do. And He is there to help us do it. He’s got the plans, the tools, the nails, the screws, the crew, everything.

We just have to ask.

Every day, all day, every day.

Even then, though, the help we ask for may not appear in the manner we expect.

Prayer, while an important aspect of recovery for a woman rooted in faith, should not be the only tool used to fight depression.

God may send help in the form of an awesome therapist, a non-judgmental friend, medication, herbal remedies, etc.

What’s not okay is for someone to use your faith to make you feel guilty about your depression.

God often took strong men and women and put them in perilous situations in order to grow their strength. Think of Job, Esther, Jonah, Daniel, David, and many more.

I leave you today with Bible verses that kept me thankful for every single thing which happened after the birth of my second daughter. These verse soothed my soul during the month she spent in the NICU. It soothed my soul as I spent time in a psychiatric ward. I carried them with me everywhere I went.

The verses are from James 1:2-4:

2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

Know that my prayers are with you as you find yourself tested by God. I know first hand it is not an easy place in which to be, especially when you have little ones who so desperately need you and cling to your every waking moment.

He is there with you even if you cannot sense His presence. He may be carrying you. He may be waiting for you to call upon Him but He is there, oh yes, He is there. He is always there. That’s the easy part. The hard part is trusting Him with it all, waiting, and listening for His answers. They may not be what you expected them to be but they will always be just what you need them to be right when you need them.

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Saturday Sundries: DSM 5 & Postpartum Depression Identifier

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Hey y’all. I’m late, I know, I know.

Last night, I fell asleep at 10pm while watching Kevin Smith’s “Too Fat for 40.” He was hilarious. I? Tired. Woke up long enough to crawl into bed before 11pm.

Then this morning, as I woke up at 813a, the day rolled on and I didn’t blog. I hung with the kiddos as the hubs ran some errands. Then we put the kids to bed and I went shopping.

When I got home, it was time for dinner. So the kids ate. Put them to bed, hubs ran another errand, I did my 30 minutes of Wii and watched Grey’s.

Then hubs came home and we ate a yummy steak dinner while we watched The Parking Lot Movie.

After we ate, I opened my laptop to blog.

The dog decided she needed to go outside.

Of course.

So she went. With me.

Then I fixed myself some Twizzler Cherry Bites.

Then the Internet wouldn’t work on my computer.

Hubs tried to fix it.

Three router restarts, a firmware update and another router restart, here we are.

12 minutes before midnight with a HUGE question to answer.

Here goes nothing.

@WalkerKarraa asked the following question: how will Pediatricians and ObGyns diagnose ppd with no dsm specifier in dsm v. Will the icd 10 cover?

I’ve been mulling this one around in my head all week. I wish I had more time to do it justice. But I slacked and I apologize.

First off, I’m not sure what you mean by “no DSM specifier in DSM 5.” As far as I know, they are keeping the identifier as I’ve not read anything to the contrary (if there is something out there, PLEASE let me know because Dear LORD they can’t take it out of there.) As far as I know, they just aren’t extending the onset of PMAD’s to beyond 4 weeks, which, as covered here, is total complete BS.

Secondly, Pediatricians do not need to be “diagnosing” PPD. They should absolutely screen for it but then refer Mom to her own doctor for official diagnosis.

I know what the ICD 10 is, have read it, and remember thinking that it would cover it and in fact, be reason enough for the folks over at the DSM to extend the identifier onset period but… apparently there has to be a defined offset in order for the onset to be extended. I know, my head hurts too.

Just as Jane said at the conference this past year, when the DSM was last revised, they too, fought hard for PMAD’s.

We can’t give up and let our voices be silenced. We also cannot let a book define our own experiences. It is what it is – label or not. Just because a doctor chooses not to label you as Postpartum doesn’t mean that those of us who have struggled with mental illness after the birth of a child will love or accept you any less. We will still love you and support you. We will still be there for you. Always.

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