Welcome to the 12 Days of PPD Dismissmas

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PPD Dismissmas? What’s that?

It’s a bit like The 12 days of Christmas but instead of Partridges in a pear tree, gold rings, geese-a-laying, lords-a-leaping or maids-a-milking (okay, so maybe some of those but not quite the way that song means it!), we’ll be shattering the stigma surrounding a myth related to Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders.

Have a myth about Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders you’d like to have blown out of the water?

Email me at mypostpartumvoice(@)gmail.com with your suggestion.

On with the deconstruction!!!

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5 Postpartum Survival Tips from a Zombie Apocalypse

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Zombie: [zom-bee] n. 1. a person who is or appears to be lifeless, apathetic, or totally lacking in independent judgment; automaton

Who among us has not at one time or another felt as if we were a Zombie? Going through life trapped in repetitive motions, functioning because we had to instead of so desiring to function? Come on.. raise your hands!

New mothers are at particular risk for this – new dads too!

Bringing a little creature into your life is enough to suck the very life blood from your own veins. It’s as if you’ve been infected – it’s your very own Baby Apocalypse!

Nursing, feeding, crying, fussing, playing, mixed up nights and days, toss in a Postpartum Mood Disorder for good measure and you’re totally screwed in no time.

Just as with Zombies, many humans have their own theories about Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders. Some people believe they exist. Others don’t think they exist at all. Those who do believe in PMAD’s are likely to prepare for a second round with them while those who do not believe in them choose not to prepare at all. It’s this population I worry about the most.

A few things you need to know about fighting off a Postpartum Apocalypse:

1) Educate yourself. Get intimate with the signs and symptoms of all of the disorders on the spectrum. Know what it looks like to have Postpartum OCD vs. Posptartum Psychosis. What does Postpartum Depression look like to someone else? What about Postpartum Anxiety or BiPolar? Which one is an imperative medical emergency? (BTW, any of them are an imperative medical emergency IF mom is suicidal and/or threatening harm to others – but Postpartum Psychosis is ALWAYS a medical emergency!)

2) Pull together several sources of personal support. Just as in fending off Zombies, there is strength in numbers. Find a support group. For you, this may be your parents, your partner’s parents, leaders from your church or center of faith, a local support group specifically for Postpartum Mamas or you may find something online like the Online PPD Support Page, #PPDChat, or iVillage’s Postpartum & Pregnancy Depression Message Board. Build up your arsenal of support early. The stronger your support system is, the better chance you have at fighting back and getting ahead of the coming waves.

3) Call in the Army. Well, not literally. In your case, the Army will be your physicians, your Therapist, your Psychiatrist, Psychologist, Midwife, Herbalist, Pediatrician, IBCLC, anyone involved in care for YOU or your baby. These professionals are trained and know just how to zap that depression. If you have these folks on you stand a much better chance of really obliterating the Postpartum Zombification heading your way. If you need help locating an ever-growing group of knowldgeable professionals, let me know. I’ll be happy to help.

4) Don’t stay home. Get out. Get moving .Believe it or not, research was actually done in regards to a popular Zombie movie – Night of the Living Dead. Their conclusion? Quarantine was riskier than Offensive responsive behavior. I know, my jaw dropped too. Get out. Walk. Go to the library. The local track. A zoo, museum, local fitness center. I found out I can join a public county gym for just $60/year. Guess what I’ll be doing in January? Shaking my groove thing around their track, on their elliptical’s, and using their weight machines.

5) Be an active participant in your recovery. Simply sitting on a therapist’s couch or in their office will not heal you. Neither will staring at a bottle of prescription medication or herbal supplements. You have to share your thoughts, experiences with your healthcare professionals and close support people. Twiddling thumbs is not what gets the Zombies off the front porch. It lets them in them in the front door. You might as well serve Sweet Tea and Cocktail Weenies for crying out loud. Skipping this important step is not recommended at all.

With a little bit of preparation, you too can strengthen the your survival of and recovery from an attack of a Postpartum Mood Disorder.

We won’t leave you all alone out there. We promise.

(This post inspired via Twitter discussion with @BrerMatt and @herbadmother. I’d like to thank the poor innocent spider who may have lost his life at the hand of @herbadmother in order to lead us to this post.)

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Whatever Wednesday: On Surviving a Coldathon

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Day One: The wind whips around the trees outside. Toss on a sweater before taking the dogs out for their morning potty break. No hat. No gloves. Enjoy the zip of the cold against my nose. Breathe deeply, filling my lungs with cool air, remember 107 degree days not too long ago. Ever so grateful for the string of 40 degree days we have been experiencing.

Night One: Wind seems to have picked up some. A few aluminum cans from the recycling bin get tossed into the yard. I pick them up and put them back. Fingers tingly and cold after taking dogs out. Still wearing just a sweater over a t-shirt and jersey knit pants. Slippers on my feet. The brisk cold is oh so invigorating. Can’t wait to get back inside to a hot cup of tea to warm up my hands. I begin to wonder if snow will soon follow. Christmas isn’t far away and a White Christmas would just rock.

Day Two: Fail to look at thermometer because the dogs are insistently yipping at the door. Grab a sweater to toss on over my PJ’s. Go outside.

Half the cans from the recycling bin have been tossed into the yard by the cruel wind. And…..

Oh.DEAR.GOD. Ears nearly freeze off. Toes? Gone. I’ve no idea how – I had slippers on. Nose in danger of turning black. No chap-stick so my lips froze together (for this, the husband is happy.) Look at thermometer. 28 degrees. Real feel? 16. With a stiff wind. Inside the house is brrrr. Hands and feet fail to warm up for bulk of day.

Night Two: Dogs yip at door again. Grab huge oversized windbreaker with thermal insert. Zip all the way up, put on hood, OVER sweater turtleneck and scarf. Still no gloves. Nearly lose my fingers to frostbite. Trip over even more cans tossed into the yard by wind, almost breaking leg in process. Nearly bite off lower lip as teeth chatter constantly the whole time I am outside. Still no snow to show for all this brrrrrrness.

Day Three: Sunny, not breezy much, blue sky. Looks warm. Grab sweater. Step outsi.. holy mother of … scramble back inside for huge jacket, socks, and actual shoes. Slippers just won’t keep what used to be my toes warm enough. Glance at thermometer. 23!!!!! Shouldn’t it be snowing? Why is it not snowing? Why does it look warm outside? Damn you Mother Nature!!!!

Pick up 374 cans to return to the recycle bin as I hang with the dogs as they do their thing, taking their time of course because THEY have built-in fur coats.

Return indoors, even the dogs are shivering. Put their sweaters and jackets on them. They don’t protest and keep them on all day as they search out blankets under which to snuggle.

Shudder and shiver all day long, even under a fuzzy blanket whilst drinking Peppermint mocha.

So.NOT.RIGHT.

Night Three: Finish putting kids to bed after an insane afternoon. Dogs decide they need to go outside right after I curl up on the couch with my fuzzy blanket. Grab big jacket. Dart outside. Come back inside. Clean up kids toys. Dog #2 decides peeing isn’t the only thing she needs to get done. Grab big jacket. Put it back on. Do jumping jacks as the dog poops in the front yard. Dart back inside. Sit down on couch, curl up with fuzzy blanket and attempt to thaw while watching a fireplace. On TV cuz we’re fancy like that here. I ignore the icicles hanging from my eyelashes and nose.

Shoveling snow would at the very least provide an outlet for my frustration.

Mother Nature is a cruel mistress – instead she’s given me cold. But STILL no snow on which to exert my frustrations.

*Please note that I live in Georgia. Where it was 100 degrees or higher most days this past summer and up until recently has been 60 – 70 degrees outside. Yes, I’m spoiled. If I survive the winter without turning into a huge popsicle, it will be a miracle, one for the Guiness Book. I’m sure of it.