Category Archives: blogger

Postpartum Voices of the Week: @heirtoBlair & @momgosomething

Leave a reply

This past week saw the best #PPDChat yet (I got tossed in Twitter jail – meaning I tweeted one too many times for Twitter within an allotted amount of time – WOOHOOO!), and now, I’m sitting here trying to decide between two absolutely amazing posts for Postpartum Voice of the Week.

You Mamas are rockin’ it this week. What’s in your Kool Aid???

I made up my mind – I’m not deciding.

This week there will be two Postpartum Voices of the Week.

Both of these wonderful posts offer up insight into what it’s like once the fog of Postpartum lifts. I think it’s important to discuss and share the depths of hell to which Postpartum Mood Disorders can drag you. But it is also very important to shine the light on the hope and happiness which awaits you on the other side of a Postpartum Mood Disorder.

First up, Blair over at Heir to Blair, writes a sweet poignant letter to PPD. She is oh so polite firm and kindly tells PPD to leave shove itself down a deep dark hole.

I hate you for what you did to me.  I hate that there was no rhyme or reason & at times, I still scream WHY ME?! when I think of how it could have been like this from the beginning had you not come knocking.  But I also know that without those horrible, bleak, terrible days, I would not realize HOW DAMN GOOD I have it right now.  I feel like I am seeing my son for the first time.  Like I am seeing myself as a mother for the first time.  & you know what?  I am a good mother.  & my son is amazing.  I finally understand that love that parents gush about, that desire to wake up in the morning & see a toothless grin over the railings of the crib.  To not only wish for that moment, but to desire it down to my core until it is the last thing I think about as I fall asleep – I can’t wait to wake up to him tomorrow. (via Blair @ Heir to Blair)

Then, Kimberly over at All Work & No Play make Mommy go Something Something broke out with a post entitled “The Bucket.” It’s so very poignant and offers such an amazing insight. Kimberly has been struggling lately through a severe relapse and through her 2-year-old, came face to face with a serious lesson about moving forward with life. Katherine Stone over at Postpartum Progress blogged about this post as well. Get the kleenex. It’s at least a Quadruple Tissue post, sniffles included.

On the last try, he made it all the way to the edge of the flower bed only making a few spills. As he excitedly dumped the water over my flowers and observed the pay off that his hard work had accomplished, he started to smile. He looked over at the pool and realized how far he had come with the bucket of water. Then he shouted “Yook Momma! Flowers wet!” When I smiled in approval and praised him for his determination, he threw the bucket and carried on with playing in the pool. That little man, a whole 23 months old, had taught me something very valuable in that moment. (via Kimberly @ Make Mommy Go Something Something)

Thanks ladies for such awesome posts. Keep the words flowing, keep the healing going, and keep on hanging on to the bright moments. They are amazing and get even better as you continue moving forward toward your flowers and full buckets.

Playing Bloggy Award Catch Up

Leave a reply

I am SO sorry I’m behind on this. You see, back in late April my husband was laid off. Three weeks later school let out. And wham. Just like that, my alone time (ie, blogging time) went buh bye!

Lately I’ve been in a horrible cycle of staying awake until 3ish to get things in the bloggy world completed. I really need to stop that. But, life marches on and well, here we are.

Back on the 14th of June, Kimberly over at All Work & No Play make Mommy Go Something Something gave me a really awesome Bloggy Award. It’s a “Mind-Blowing” blog award. It meant so much to me and every night I kept telling myself I would blog about it the next day. Well, here we are, just a few days shy of a whole month later, and I am finally blogging it. As I watch The Fifth Element. At 1230ish am EST. I know, I know.

Here’s the rules:

– Display the award on your blog. (check)

– Mention the person who gave you the award, and provide a link to their blog.  (check)

– Name 5-10 people to pass it on to.

I’ve met so many amazing bloggers recently. This is going to be hard. Especially given that Kimberly also gave the award to a few moms I would have given it to also.

So instead, I’m going to focus on some other bloggers who completely amaze me. I have no idea how they get the strength they have to blog about what they do. It’s amazing. And if you’re not already familiar with their blogs, go check them out ASAP.

1. Cora’s Story by Kristine Brite McCormick (@KristineBrite): This mama is amazing. Her dear Cora died in her arms at just 5 days old, due to Congenital Heart Disease. Kristine presses on with a deep passion to educate others about CHD. I admire her passion, her courage, and her compassionate spirit. Her heart blows me away.

2. No Points for Style by Adrienne Jones (@NoStylePoints): Adrienne blogs about her life as a mom. And her son Carter, who struggles with schizophrenia. Her open sharing of her son’s struggles is absolutely mind blowing. I applaud her for writing and sharing with others. Thank you, Adrienne.

3. Sneak a Peek at Me by Janis (@sneakpeekatme): A single mom raising a son who requires 24/7 supervision due to several medical reasons, Janis openly shares her life with us through her blog as well as at 5 Minutes for Mom. Janis, quite frankly, rocks. And blows minds on a daily basis.

4. Our Happy Nuthouse by Lisa Curcio (@LisaCurcio): Lisa is a mom of several nuts, one of whom is a CHD nut. Her dedication to all her children and especially her CHD nut is awesome. The fact that she blogs about it and advocates for education about CHD on top of it all blows my mind.

5. The Daddy Files by Aaron Gouveia (@DaddyFiles): Right now, Aaron is facing the diagnosis of his unborn child with Sirenomelia or Mermaid Syndrome. Sirenomelia is so rare it only happens in 1 in 100,000 pregnancies. Don’t click the link to his blog if you’re fragile. I’ve been in tears several times as I’ve prayed passionately for his family as they move through this. Aaron is bravely blogging his way through this and including everything. It’s some of the rawest blogging I’ve ever read. He’s blowing a lot of peoples minds as he moves through this. We are all praying so hard for Aaron, MJ, and their son during this difficult time in their lives.

Thank you to all of the aforementioned bloggers. You may not see it, may not ever know it, but through sharing your stories through the Internet, You are helping others. Keep up the amazing work and don’t ever lose your cajones. They’re saving lives, breaking down walls, and opening doors.

Postpartum Voice of the Week: @litanyofbritt’s “When there is No Light”

Leave a reply

This past week, at the tail end of #PPDChat, @litanyofbritt tweeted a link to a post at her blog, “When There is No Light.” In this post, Brittainy first details her daughter’s birth story and her subsequent fall into the dark hole of Postpartum Depression.

Her post struck a chord with me because we both were separated from our children. She writes it beautifully:

I spent the next two days alone. A special kind of alone, where a mother is in one place, and her baby is hours away. Her dad went to Boston to sit by her side, and I stayed back, and wept until my face swelled like a balloon, and I mourned the loss of the experience I had not just hoped for, but expected. My mother came to sit with me for awhile, and brought me lunch, but I had no other visitors. It seems people don’t quite know how to visit a new mother, when there is no new baby. My first lingering moments of motherhood, the first few days of my daughter’s life, were the most heinous, and lonely days of mine.

I too, felt that horrible sense of isolation. No one knew what to do with me. My baby was alive. She was breathing. But she was not with me. I had barely known her out of the womb for 24 hours before she left me to go on her first road trip. This was NOT how things were supposed to work out. Give birth, nurse, go home. That was the plan. This detour through the NICU had not been planned!

Brittainy goes on to share her experience after giving birth to her son. It’s an amazing read. Please go read it.

I will warn you that some sections are graphic and may be triggering for some of you. Please refrain from reading it if you are in a fragile place.

Thank you, Brittainy, for sharing your story and lighting the path for other mamas out there who may find hope in your Postpartum Voice.

A Letter to a collegiate me

Leave a reply

I’m writing this as part of a Blog Hop started by @RaisingMadison. Hope you enjoy!

Dear collegiate me,

Let’s start out with a list of five important things you’ll want to research. Yanno, just in case.

1. Postpartum Mood Disorders/Postpartum Depression

2. Cleft Palates and Breastfeeding

3. Substance Abuse & Marriage

4. ADHD – in Adults and Kids

5. Pubic Symphysis Diastasis or Pubic Bone Pain in Pregnancy (it’s NOT normal!)

Now, I know you’re downing some  Boone’s Sangria straight out of the bottle – probably from the bottom of your dorm room dresser. I don’t blame you one bit. That’s a heavy list. It’s okay to curl up in bed to read the rest of this letter too. Hopefully you don’t have a nasty migraine right now. Cuz if you do, I apologize for the sucky timing.

And that’s the bad news.

The awesome news is even though everything on that list is heavy, you make it through. Remember when Grandma Helen told you to be the best you can be when you were 11, right before she passed away? When she let you know you were absolutely amazing? Well, you are! It took going through hell to get here but it was all worth it.

The most amazing part of this letter is that because of all this struggling, you have managed to meet some of the most amazing women EVER.

Your husband? He’s awesome too. He’s not perfect. (Really – who among us is though?) But he loves you. With.ALL.His.HEART!

Your kids? Are hilarious. And they drive you to exhaustion each and every day. But they are so worth it. All three of them.

Oh, and that Pubic Symphysis Diastasis? Yeh, um. WATER THERAPY is your best bet. Demand it. Even with the first OB who tries to tell you that it’s “normal.” HAH! It’s Oh so NOT normal. Wincing and crying while trying to put on shoes, underwear, pants, is NEVER normal.

Although it’ll seem tough at first, you’ll get through the whole cleft palate situation. Your second daughter is an amazing little girl with a brilliant sense of humor who finally starts to belly laugh at age four. She’s a total doll.

Life isn’t easy by a long stretch. But God is working in it – and working hard. He’s walking with you, carrying you sometimes, and it is amazing. Trust in Him. He’ll rock your world.

Are PMD’s the new Jimmy Chu’s?

Leave a reply

Six years ago, I woke up and wandered into my walk in closet. To my left, neurosis and psychopathy. To my right, temporary madness. I walked right past them to the very back of the closet and grabbed a pile of dusty boxes from the darkest corner.

Ahhhhh.

There they were. All the members of the Postpartum Mood Disorder line, their labels obscured by years of dirt and grime, left there by the previous generation of women just for me. Chills ran down my spine as I placed the boxes on the floor and plopped down beside them, dizzy with anticipation.

Postpartum Anxiety, Postpartum Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Depression, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, and the most spectacular and rarest of them all – Postpartum Psychosis.

As I opened one, cobwebs covered my hands as stale air escaped.

I hyperventilated as the suspense of discovering my poison washed over me.

As I pulled the lid off, there it was, shining in all its glory.

Postpartum Obsessive Compulsive Disorder! I clapped my hands with glee, grinned, squealed, and slipped my toes into the bejeweled insanity, strapping my heels in for the bumpy yet glittery ride.

As I returned the other boxes to the shadowy corner, the fun times rolled full force ahead!

Horrible traumatic thoughts about harming myself and my baby slammed into me. I shivered in sheer delight. My anxiety level shot sky-high as my daughter screamed and fussed in the next room. And oh yes, my favorite of all – my newfound fear of kitchen knives as they became central to the little shards of horrificly delicious thoughts.

Oh yes.

THIS is what I am talking about. This is awesomeness all wrapped up in a gorgeous pair of killer heels. Where on EARTH had they been my whole life? This rocked.

As I sat down in the living room to nurse my daughter for what seemed like the 50th time in less than 3 hours, I admired my fancy new shoes. They were hypnotic, yet psychotically tragic at the same time. But dammit, they were mine. Bejeweled, beveled, and shining like gold, they clung to my feet with a grip that just would not quit.

Slowly the sun slid beneath the horizon as the house darkened and a loud silence filled the world, screaming at me.  Yet here I still sat, pinned to the couch, nursing baby on my boob, on my gazillionth episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, shoes still strapped to my feet. My heels blistered, my toes horribly pinched, my arches swelled, and my cankles threatened to devour the straps.

I wanted to take the shoes off. Now.

But baby wouldn’t stop eating. Life wouldn’t stop moving forward, swallowing me whole, the thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling around my head long enough for me to figure out how to undo the now almost buried straps beneath my cankles.

I pulled, I fought. I screamed, I wept, wailed, gnashed.

I needed professional help.

Had I waited too long? Had I done permanent damage to myself? To my marriage? How would I care for my baby if I could no longer function? What on earth had I really sacrificed to be so fashionable? Slipping on a PMD was the trendy thing to do, right? Why wasn’t this working for me? What the hell had I done wrong?

Turns out I had done nothing wrong.

And for the record, I didn’t really slip on a PMD. No, it crept up on me from behind, beat me over the head, and rode me like a drunken sailor rides a mechanical bull after one too many beers during shore leave.

I did NOT choose to have a PMD.

I do not claim to have a PMD so I can be like Dooce.

I do not claim to have a PMD so I can outdo your bad days.

I do not claim to have a PMD just because the cool kids are doing it.

I do not claim to have a PMD just because I want more traffic to my blog, dammit.

I started my blog to cope with an unexpected pregnancy AFTER two episodes of Postpartum OCD, one of which spit me out on my bed, rocking back and forth in the fetal position muttering “I don’t want to be Andrea Yates,” over and over to avoid grabbing a pillow and smothering my daughters. Yes, I said daughters.

My Postpartum experience couldn’t be solved simply by going home and calming my daughter down because even when she was calm, those thoughts still crashed against my shores, angry, unforgiving, and pushing me even further toward the overgrown jungle.

I for one, applaud mothers daring to be vocal about their experiences with PMD’s. As we raise our voices in a loud and beautiful chorus, more mothers are aware of what CAN happen after the birth of a baby. More mothers today know what to do, how to seek help, and have access to peer support immediately via the blogosphere, Twitter, Facebook, or other Social Media sites.

At the same time, I do agree that some might cry wolf. BUT – it is not my place to judge them. It is not my place to tell them to MAN UP. It is not my place to force them to a doctor so they can pop pills and become one of the “cool kids.” (By the way, if you go to a doc about a PMD and he/she immediately writes you a script, RUN. Run quickly. Find someone who rules out physical causes such as thyroiditis or anemia first. Please?) It is not my place to diagnose them. It’s not my place to compare their journey to theirs and try to one up them. It’s not my place to brag that my Motherhood Lane has more or less potholes. It’s not my place to blame them for feeling lied to if that’s what they express. It’s just not.

It’s my place to listen. It’s my place to show compassion. It’s my place to love them as they travel down their OWN Motherhood Lane. It’s my place to offer resources through which they will also find compassion, empowerment, and achieve the Motherhood Journey they so sorely yearn for as they lay curled in their beds, unable to get up because the thought of facing one more day has left them powerless. Or the thoughts racing through their heads have frightened them so much they want to sleep forever – because when you’re asleep, when you’re asleep .. those thoughts are quiet. But they’re there as soon as you wake up and when you have a new baby, let’s face it, you’re up a LOT.

Once again, disappointment creeps deep within my heart. I wish we could co-exist in our own spaces without offering critique. Without feeling like the grass on the other side is just a smidge greener and then offering suggestions on how to improve our neighbor’s lawn or gossiping with the other neighbor about how the problems we are having with our own lawn is SO much worse than the ones they are experiencing. Fire Ants? Yeh, well, I’ve got moles. Moles? I’ve got groundhogs. STOP IT. Just stop it.

Can’t we all just grab a margarita and tear down the fences between us without the competition? Please? Cuz that, that would rock.