Tag Archives: depression

Postpartum Voice of the Week: Raising Little Women’s “The “D” Word”

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I loved this piece not only for the beautiful and talented writing but for the inclusion of Christianity into the battle this Mom is currently fighting.

When I was first struggling through Postpartum OCD, I had a Christian background but did not consider myself to be Christian at the time. As I started my support group, I shied away from starting it at a Church so as not to make potential attendees uncomfortable. Then I met Tara Mock, the founder of Out of the Valley, a faith-based Postpartum site. Tara led me to Sue McRoberts and eventually I met Rebecca Ingram. While we all haven’t met in person yet, I admire all three of these women for their strong faith and know in my heart of hearts that God put them in my path to help my own faith grow.

And grow it has.

I was baptized (again) this past April. I have no doubt that whatever has come my way is for a reason even if I do not believe it a the time. It has been so very comforting to finally be in a place where, if something goes wrong, I know I can lean hard on God to take care of it all. Even when I was not at this place, it was not because I had not prayed enough. It was not because I had been a bad “Christian.” It was not me. It was God, carrying me through a storm because He knew what was down the road for me. I am finally grateful for my experience. Do I wish it had never happened? Sure. But it did. So I deal with it I must.

Today’s voice hid her depression for five long years despite having noticed not feeling right after the birth of her daughter, Sarah. She observes her reason why so many struggle in isolation with depression:

Depression is a subject that many people do not like to talk about, especially in the church, which is very unfortunate for those that face this day in and day out. We should be able to come to one another, as brothers & sisters in Christ, and share one another’s burdens. But yet so many people face depression alone.

I believe the cause of this is due to what is being said from pulpits, what is written in books, blogs or spoken amongst friends. I once believed the lie, that if you are struggling with depression 1) you have sin in your life, 2) you have turned your back on God 3) God is punishing you for past sins.

As she moved forward to seek help, she also struggled with these very issues.

I started searching online, found a sickness that I thought I had, went to the doctor, told him what I thought was wrong, and wanted him to fix it. I can’t remember exactly what I told him I thought I had, something about blood sugar. When he told me he thought I was dealing with depression, I fought him on it, and then I broke down in his office. He told me, basically, I was dealing with PPD (postpartum depression) I wouldn’t let him speak the word depression, he finally started calling it postpartum anxiety so I would listen to what he had to say.

She found herself on and off medication for the next few years. This past April she stopped taking her medicine again.

A couple weeks/month later I hit the bottom. Hard. I literally could not think straight, make a decision, or go a day without having a meltdown.  I didn’t want to leave the house, I felt terrible, sick, all the time. To make it worse, all the thoughts I’d had previously, came back. The guilt alone was enough to push me over the edge. Looking back, I don’t know why it took me so long to go back to the doctor. I think I was still clinging to the lies, in fact, I’m pretty sure that was it. I started questioning my salvation. I started doubting everything I knew to be true. I hated myself, who I’d become. I felt like a liar and cheat. I hated that people thought me better than I was, who said kind words about me, I actually, to put it nice, wanted to hit,  and yell at them. Those who told me they wish they could be like me, stay at home, do it all, I wanted to take them up on it, but I just smiled and said, thank you.

I applaud her for speaking up about her experience even if it took her so long to do so. Her story will undoubtedly touch women of faith as they too struggle with their own brushes with depression. We are just human, even if God is on our side. He is there to lean on in the hard times, and will always be there when we need Him most. And ladies? HIS opinion is the only one that matters. He will always love us. Always.

Now go read the whole piece over at Raising Little Women: The “D” Word.

 

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The Postpartum Smoke Monster

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No, not that one.

While on Twitter last night, I connected with a mom who mentioned something about “smoky rooms.” I replied to her. Those smoky rooms? Surreal. Very surreal.

Until last night though, I had forgotten about them. A remnant of my postpartum experience abandoned in a dark corner.

In the midst of my darkest days, I saw wisps of grey smoke floating through the room. They were always above me, too far to reach. Sometimes there was an overheated electrical scent hanging heavy in the air.

Until last night, the grey smoke wisps were an experience of which I had never spoken.

During the course of my conversation with the first mom, who said close friend of hers also experienced the same phenomenon, yet another mother chimed in, shocked that we were discussing smoke we had seen during our Postpartum experiences. Suddenly we were bonding over smoke. Smoke we had clearly imagined in the midst of our Postpartum Mood Disorders.

It was then that I recalled research which postulated that depressed people are more likely to see everything as gray than non-depressed people.

Then there is the reference of recovery feeling as if “the fog has lifted.” What if the fog really does lift? What if we really are surrounded by fog when struggling with depression?

Did you experience this? What did the fog look like for you? You’re not alone out there in the fog or smoke. There are others who have been there too.

Just Talkin’ Tuesday: Unhappily Pregnant

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Derniere ligne droite or Pregnancy Last Days

"Derniere ligne droite or Pregnancy Last Days" by f. clerc @ flickr.com

#PPDChat yesterday focused on Pregnancy and Depression. A lot of questions came up and I wanted to continue the conversation today. Welcome to Just Talkin’ Tuesday.

Have you ever tried to find a photo of a pregnant woman in which she is not smiling or glowing?

It’s HARD.

I found one, but it was not easy.

Everywhere you look there are glowing happy pregnant women. Here’s a page from a modeling agency dedicated to providing pregnant models. Every single last one of them is grinning.

Pregnancy, just as postpartum, is supposed to be one of the happiest times of a woman’s life. But what if your mood doesn’t match the one you are supposed to have? The one we are groomed to have? After all, even as young girls, many of us spent hours upon hours playing with baby dolls, fantasizing about having a baby of our own one day. I used to shove stuffed animals under my shirt and “give birth.” Oh, if only it were that easy!

No one mentions the natural mood swings. No one mentions that more women may become depressed during pregnancy than after pregnancy. No one tells us the anxiety pregnancy may rain down upon us. No one tells us the immense guilt waiting to consume us as we are overwhelmed and consumed with thoughts of suicide. No one tells us these things. Instead, we are continually bombarded with pictures of perfection, conflicting advice about everything from how to cope with morning sickness to how get rid of those annoying stretch marks to what to buy for our baby’s bedding to what diapers to buy to how to feed our children. Can you say Information Overload? It’s enough to get a mentally healthy mom super stressed at a time when she is supposed to be avoiding stress to begin with!

A pregnant mother’s depression may be triggered by a number of things. It may be an unexpected pregnancy, her partner or family may not be supportive, she may be experiencing unrelated stresses, she may already have children at home and the physical stress of a pregnancy may have her more than worn down, or she may already struggle with depression or another mental illness. Whatever the cause may be, it’s simply not expected for a mom to be anything but happy during a pregnancy.

So who should mom turn to? Where should she go? How can she tell the difference between pregnancy mood swings and something more serious? Mom can start with her doctor. If he dismisses her and she feels in her gut that something more than pregnancy hormones is causing her issues, she can (and should) seek a second opinion. Ask your original doctor or friends for a referral to another physician. She can also contact Postpartum Support International and speak with a Coordinator in her area who will help her locate a knowledgeable doctor or therapist. Telling the difference between mood swings and something more serious involves paying attention to your weeks rather than your days. If you have weeks filled with more down days, anxiety you just can’t kick, and nothing you do seems to bring you out of your funk, then it’s a very real possibility you may need to speak with a professional about how you’re feeling.

I found myself depressed during my second pregnancy. My first episode of postpartum was not treated. I believe this fed into my depression during my second pregnancy. I had not learned any coping methods or of the importance of taking care of myself. I drifted further and further into the darkness, swallowed whole by morning sickness (all-day sickness for me), the lack of desire to eat, take care of our 16 month old daughter, and no desire to take my prenatal vitamins because they triggered nausea. I even thought at one time what would happen if I didn’t  take my prenatal vitamins. Then my daughter was born nearly 5 weeks early with a cleft palate. Turns out there was nothing I could have done to keep her cleft palate from occurring as it forms within the first 4-6 weeks of pregnancy, well before many women are even aware they are pregnant. Still, I beat myself up about not taking my vitamins. I still do every now and then. But I now enjoy spending time with my daughter.

I also found myself depressed during the first 6 months of my third pregnancy. It was an unplanned pregnancy. I would go to every visit and wish they would not find a heartbeat. If the heartbeat wasn’t there, the baby wasn’t there and this pregnancy would just become a figment of my imagination. It hurts me to type that. As I would lie on the table waiting for the nurse to check the heartbeat with the doppler, I closed my eyes and prayed so hard she wouldn’t find it. Many times she had a hard time finding it and I would get excited. But then she would find it, pronounce it healthy and leave the room. I would cry as I stared blankly out the window, disappointed that once again, the baby had survived another month. I know this sounds horrible. I know it’s harsh and I know there are mothers who try very hard to have children or have angel babies. But there I sat, beyond words filled with heartbreak about this growing gift in my belly. I never talked to anyone about either depression. I wish I had. The difference between the two was that with my son, I was already on medication as I had suffered severe and debilitating Postpartum OCD after the birth of our second daughter (fed, I’m sure, by the depression I suffered during my pregnancy with her).  I was also in counseling. I found therapy very helpful in reframing things. And by the time this pregnancy was underway, I was also blogging here and getting started in Postpartum Advocacy. Things were looking very different indeed. I focused more on preparing for myself and caring for myself which then allowed me to take care of my family and the little one inside my belly. With my son, the fog eventually lifted and once I could feel him moving inside me, things began to look up. I realize I am fortunate the fog lifted. It didn’t magically lift though as it took a lot of hard work on my part and the help of professionals.

Please don’t struggle alone if you are pregnant and suspect you may be depressed. There is help. There is hope. Medication while pregnant is one of the biggest concerns for depressed moms. But there are medications you can take during pregnancy that have a minimal risk to mom and baby. Talk with your doctor about your options in this department.

Have you struggled through depression during pregnancy? Worried you might end up with depression during pregnancy because you’ve had a Postpartum Mood Disorder? Share your concerns, tips, and success stories here. When you comment, you’ll be entered to win a copy of Pregnant on Prozac by Shoshana Bennett. This is one of the best resources out there for mamas when it comes to pregnancy and mental illness. I happen to have an extra copy of the book here and want to pass it on to someone who could really use the information within it’s pages. This give away is not sponsored or endorsed by Shoshana Bennett, just something I’m wanting to give away to a mama in need. If you win the book and don’t need it for yourself, perhaps you could share it with your OB, Midwife, or Therapist so they could pass it on to someone who would find it helpful. All you have to do to enter is leave a comment by Monday, September 13 at 8pm EST. I’ll be choosing the winner that night via Random.org. For an extra entry, please Tweet about this post and then leave an additional comment with a link to your tweet. You can also receive an additional entry by subscribing to My Postpartum Voice via Email and leaving an additional comment telling me you’re subscribed (and if you’re already subscribed, that counts!)

So let’s get to talking about Pregnancy & Depression. It doesn’t deserve to live in the darkness any longer.

Have you discovered Mental Health Social yet?

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What’s Mental Health Social?

It’s a new socially driven website for people with or an interest in mental illness.

I’m a member (you can find me under Lauren Hale). Still nudging around the site and learning the ropes, what with the way life’s  got me running lately – sick kids, kids, kids, and well, in swooped summer break. ACK!

According to a recent press release,

“Mental Health Social allows users to create profiles where they can choose to share information about themselves, post videos, upload audio or photographs, and offer or receive help from like-minded members of the community. “MentalHealthSocial.com was created with the mental health community in mind,” said Wood. “Currently no other web site caters to that community in the same way as Mental Health Social.” The company is about more than connecting people though. MentalHealthSocial.com is also about raising awareness. Mental Health Social will actively work to raise money for mental health related non-profit organizations to bring awareness, treatment options and research to the very community it serves.”

How can you NOT love a website doing all that?

Plus, the founder, Colin Spencer Wood, has Bipolar disorder so he GETS what it’s like to struggle.

So go check it out. And friend me.

There’s not much there regarding Postpartum Mood Disorders yet. Care to start something with me? Let’s hook up!

Graham Crackers & Peanut Butter with a side order of crazy: Part II

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Welcome to Part II. Today I’m sharing how I ended up in Part I. Tomorrow we’ll be at the doc’s office and then the ER. Read that section here.

Our daughter was 56 days old. She had spent just 15 days more at home than in the NICU at that point, having been born with a cleft palate, micrognathia, and glossotopsis. This is known as Pierre Robin Sequence. By the time we got her home, she had endured major surgery, been in a medically induced coma for a week, and had a feeding tube placed. More surgeries would be necessary to close the cleft of both her soft and hard palate. The cleft was complete and bilateral, meaning there was NOTHING up there but a gaping hole.

The day of her jaw surgery, I checked out. Curled up in the sleep room with Linkin Park’s Remix album and wanted to sink deep down into the chair. It was dark there. And safe. Oh so safe.

I cried, no, bawled, my body wracked with tears that I had muscle aches the next day. I wanted to leave her at the hospital. How the hell could this have happened to us? Why us? What the hell was He thinking? I pushed her away from the very beginning. Her cleft destroyed all of my expectations. Birth, breastfeed, go home. All of this in between NICU crap wasn’t in the plans. Formula wasn’t in the plan. abandonment just 30 minutes after a 2 day active labor wasn’t in the plans. My new daughter going to Atlanta without us at less than 24 hours old – SO not in the plans. My mom picking me up at the hospital – not in the plans. Our 23 month old daughter’s life being turned upside down – I felt guilty.

I didn’t take my pre-natal vitamins. Clefts can be a result of poor maternal diet, folic acid specifically. I had severe nausea and wasn’t able to eat most days. SO I didn’t take my vitamins. Ever. Looking back, depression flecked the entire pregnancy. And now this? I would have fared better in a ring with Mike Tyson.

No one told us anything. My mom did research. She got me in touch with an online PRS support group (Thank YOU, Nancy, for all you do to keep us connected.)

The NICU doctors and nurses were great.

I wasn’t.

The night of her birth, I woke up at 10pm to pee. I stood there and brushed my hair for 10 minutes. I didn’t see myself in the mirror. What I saw was a shell. I willed a spark to appear – but none did. Eventually I gave up and went back to bed, lying there, confused, exhausted, worried – slipping in and out of sleep only because physically I needed to collapse into bed!

The next day I yelled at our nurse when she tried to get us to sign consent forms for C to go to Atlanta. But she wasn’t supposed to go until later in the week. What do you mean this AFTERNOON? Where are you taking my baby? Why are we.. you can’t take her. You just can’t. you.just.can’t.

More hustle and bustle. In and out. Charlotte seems to spend the entire day away from me. I spend the entire day away from her. But at one point, I am in the bathroom and she’s in her bassinet in the room. I hear a door open. A man walks in and I freak out. He prays with me and leaves. I’m scared and go to the desk to ask that no one be allowed in the room unless they are on a list I’ve scribbled up. On the list are our parents. No one else, no one else. I am not in the mood for random strangers to stop by. (I think he went to our church)

By that afternoon, we meet the transport team. They seem nice enough. Chris has bought a little lamb to ride in the incubator looking rig with her. She’s healthy, they tell us. Oxygen sats are good, breathing is good, she’s healthy. She’ll be fine. We’ll meet your husband there. We sign the first of a slew of paperwork.

Chris hangs out with me after she leaves and eventually he has to leave too.

I pace in the hospital room when I am alone. Pace, pump, clean, pace, pump, clean.

I am a caged animal blaming myself for my daughter’s issues. I caused this by not taking my prenatal vitamins. This hell is all my fault. I did this to my poor baby girl.

Later that evening, my in-laws swing by with On the Border and my daughter. They stay for a few minutes. It’s painfully uncomfortable, perhaps a misconception on my part. After they leave, I voraciously eat my now cold food as I watch Nothing to Lose, my go to happy movie. It doesn’t work.

By now, Chris is in Atlanta. I call him around 10pm and cry so hard he can’t understand a damned word I’m saying. We hang up and I wail myself to sleep. If I had given birth via c-section, I am sure I would have torn stitches. Again, I wake up to pee in the middle of the night. Again, I stand and brush my hair. But this time I straighten up the already immaculate room as well before going back to bed.

The following morning, one of the OB’s from the practice offers me Prozac. I decline, saying that I want to see how far I can get on my own before I go jumping into meds. I’m stubborn like that. The OB I hated came by to tell me we were doing a great job and everything would be okay. I wanted to believe him.

Later that day, my mother picks me up. We pick up Allison and head home. I collapse. We manage to get a rental breast pump delivered that night (oh sweet relief as my milk has finally started to come in). I double pump in front of my mother using a t-shirt as cover. Eventually I give up on trying to hide the pumps.

That Friday I went to Atlanta to see her in the NICU. I’m heartbroken. I don’t want to be there. We’re not supposed to be there. What do I know about NICU babies? Why am I mother to one? Who the hell approved this script change? I didn’t.

Over the next few days, Chris and I spend some time together at his Uncle’s house as we ferry back and forth to the hospital. We talk about having another baby (see how far gone I was!) and I quietly wish we could leave her a the hospital but don’t tell him this for a couple of weeks.

That first week the feeding team wants to get Charlotte up to speed but she’s not cooperating. So the Plastic Surgeon suggests a jaw distraction which gets the feeding team pissed and puts us in the middle. We go to the garden at the hospital and I cry on Chris’ shoulder.

We decide to go with the surgery. At 9 days, she’s prepped and we leave her for surgery downstairs. I cry – again. His parents are there. I don’t want them to be but he needs support and I’ve chosen to respect that. I get the Mp3 player and disappear into the sleep room. I’m safe there. Very safe and lost in Linkin Park.

She comes back up in a medically induced coma. A machine breathes for her, she’s swollen, shiny, and tiny. But she’s had a good surgery. She made it through.

That afternoon, my husband calls the OB for me. I’m not doing well. We make an appointment for the next day. I made it 9 days, I tell them. I need something. I need help. I want to function because right now, right now I am not.

Right now, I’m brushing my hair, changing my pads, washing my hands, washing my pump parts, and it’s all very routine and necessary but it’s also very comforting. Very very comforting. I use the same bathrooms at the hospital. I use the same sinks at the NICU. I don’t stray outside my comfort zone. I kept to this routine the entire time she was in the hospital. I got edgy if it changed. At all.

Beginning of April I sprain my ankle as I get up from pumping. It’s the day we’re supposed to learn how to place an NG tube so we don’t have to have more surgery for a G-tube. I wrap up my ankle, bag up the ibuprofen and tylenol and go. There’s a grown up hospital across the street if it gets bad, I tell my husband.

I can’t place the NG tube. I officially suck, I tell myself. I suck. She’s angry at me because I suck. I can’t take care of my daughter. What the hell kind of mother am I? She’s my daughter. I should be able to do whatever I need to care for her. But I can’t. And so I have failed. Again.

We decide to go with a g-tube. It’ll be easier for me. I feel guilty for making her go through a surgery because it’ll be easier for me but easier for me means better for her. So that makes it okay, right? Right?

Right.

At 21 days old, she comes home. The ride home we can’t figure out how to get her pump to work. That night we can’t get it to work. I stay up with her because I can sleep the next day. Chris has to go to work. I don’t sleep well. I pump, I feed, I care for our 23 month old daughter and two dogs. A vicious cycle has begun.

Within two weeks, I ask for my meds to be upped. They’re not working. I’m stressed. My thoughts are getting more and more intense. They need to stop. The meds will make them stop. Make them stop. MAKE them stop.

Within three weeks, the thoughts are firing so rapidly at me I wonder if I’m in front of a death squad. I’m disgusted and repulsed. Pillows, visions of death, horrible deep dark secrets slam into me every few minutes. They’re like contractions on speed, really, waves that don’t ever seem to stop.

Within a little over four weeks, I’ve broken down. Irretrievably.

 

Follow me to Part IV