Category Archives: motherhood

Why I support other Mothers

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I just wrapped up reading a post over at Her Bad Mother, If Prayers were Horses, Grievers would Ride. She’s talking about the recent death of her father and how to cope with her daughter’s questions about death. The post itself doesn’t have a thing to do with Postpartum Mood Disorders. But my reaction to it does.

When I first watched the video montage about Crystal that Joseph Raso sent me, I wept. My children were in the room. And here was mommy, huddled with her laptop, headphones on, tears sliding down my face, my body literally wracked with sobs. Did I know Crystal? No. Do I know Joseph? I do now but I did not then. But I DO know loss. I know the heartache it can bring. I know it all too well. And I suffered from it when I was a child. By the time I was 22, I had lost all four of my grandparents, two cousins, and several other relatives. Most of them succumbed to cancer.

The first death I remember was when my aunt died when I was five. I remember her only a little bit.

My first real brush with a strong emotional reaction was when my step-grandmother died on Thanksgiving in 1987. Imagine getting ready to go to your other grandparent’s house to celebrate and have fun only to have your parents sit you down in their bedroom to explain to you that your grandmother has gone to be with God. I wept. I’m starting to cry again now. Strangely, I just accepted this as part of life. But I had already been through a few other deaths prior to this one so for me, death WAS truly a part of life. We went to her memorial service as she had been cremated. I remember standing at the top of a spiral staircase staring out the windows at the rain. No one was around me, I wanted it that way. My heart hurt. My body hurt. I wanted my grandmother back but I knew she couldn’t come back.

Eleven years later, her husband, my maternal grandfather died. Just a few days before his death, I had a dream. I dreampt his death. I saw him gasping for air, not breathing, calling for help, no one coming to rescue him. A week later, he passed away due to congestive heart failure. This was the first time I had lost someone so suddenly. I became an empty vessel only capable of crying, moaning, thrashing. It was not a beautiful thing. A mere 19 days after this, my other grandfather died. I had nothing left to give. Nothing.

I share all of this to get to my point.

After I watched Crystal’s video, my daughter asked why I was crying. I gulped. Dear Lord, how do I explain this to a child? How do I tell her why this beautiful woman on my computer screen made mommy cry? How?

I grabbed her and held her close. I pointed at the pictures of Crystal sliding across my screen. And I talked to her about what I do. Why mommy is on the computer so much. We’ve talked before but this was different. I told her that this mommy, THIS MOMMY, got very very sad after she had a baby. And no one was there to help her. She didn’t know where to get help. And she made a decision that took her away from her family. That this Mommy’s decision had made her family very sad and now her children didn’t have a Mommy anymore because she’s in heaven. I started to cry again. My daughter looked at me. I looked her in the eyes and said rather emphatically:

“THIS MOMMY is why your Mommy does what she does. Your mommy doesn’t want other kids growing up without a Mommy. YOUR MOMMY wants women to have help and know where to turn.”

We hugged, and a few minutes later, she came back over to me.

“Mommy?”

“Yes dear?”

“I’m sad the Mommy isn’t here anymore.”

“Awww, honey.”

“But it’s ok for you to be on your computer now.”

And you know what, since then, she’s really been okay with me being on my computer.

Kids are resilient like that. Yes, we need to guide them and be careful what they see and hear. But life happens. The more open we are with them about life, the better prepared they will be when they finally step out into that giant pool without us. And if they swim well, we’ve done our job right.

The havoc of sleep deprivation

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Let’s face it – if Alice were a new mother, it wouldn’t have been a rabbit after which she tumbled down a dark hole. No, it would have been the spiraling mental anguish of a sheer lack of sleep due to the sudden presence of a very small creature unable to communicate in any other way but with a loud piercing shriek. The way I see it, Alice is walking through the daisy covered field, singing happily or humming a light-hearted tune and then WHAM! A loud shriek fills the air and down she tumbles, clawing at the sides of the dirt encased tunnel to keep from falling any further.

Sleep deprivation is a serious issue for anyone. But toss in a new mother with hormones bouncing in every direction topped off with a new little being to care for, and a zillion people babbling advice at her all at once, it’s enough to tip the scales in the wrong direction. To add to this negative balance, turns out Postpartum Depression can aggravate already impaired sleep quality.

According to the APA, a person who does not get enough sleep can experience issues with the following: apathy, slowed speech and flattened emotional responses, impaired memory and an inability to be novel or multitask. Hmmmm. Flattened emotional response? Impaired memory? (When DID I feed the baby last?) Multitask? (Ever tried to care for more than 1 kid at a time on next to no sleep? It’s not pretty people, not pretty at all!)

There are a few reasons you may not be getting decent sleep as a new mom. Depression is one of them. Two other conditions that can wreak havoc with your sleep are Thyroiditis and Anemia. Both of these conditions can leave you exhausted even if you are sleeping the required 6-8 hours a night. Be sure to ask your doctor to screen for both. It’s a simple blood test. The results will make a world of difference if  positive. Anti-depressants will not treat thyroiditis or Anemia. You’ll need a different approach altogether. Treatment for thyroiditis or anemia may include hormonal or iron therapy to get things moving in the right direction.

It’s been almost two years since I have been  a brand new mom but recently I received a stark reminder of what sleep deprivation will do to someone.

Our oldest daughter has been sick repeatedly since January. The most recent bout really took it out of me. One evening, I gathered fresh sheets to make up one of the kid’s beds. I carried them straight into the living room and almost made up the space heater instead. Thankfully I realized what I was about to do and turned myself around before placing sheets on the heater.  I was shocked I had let myself get to that point. I remember when the kids were still nursing. I’d finish up nursing them, crawl into bed, only to be woken up by my husband in what seemed just five minutes later to nurse again. With just one kid, it was easy to recover during the day. Recovering from the same scenario with two toddlers and a newborn who just doesn’t want to quit is even harder. Lack of sleep is a debt which adds up quickly. According to recent research, sleep loss is not something we can ever make up. That’s right – sleeping in on the weekends doesn’t really help.

As mothers, we often forget to mother the most important person in our lives – OURSELVES. If we are not healthy, we are then not able to take care of those around us. If we cannot take care of those around us, they become grumpy, unhappy, and unhealthy, giving birth to a very vicious circle which is difficult to escape. However, if we take care of ourselves by making sure we eat right, sleep right, exercise, and feed our souls, those around us will be happier and our kids will have a positive role model on which to base their own behavior.

I know telling a new mother to simply get some rest is so much easier said than done. Talk with your support people prior to delivery. Make sure that sleep is high on the list. First, actually. Before the dishes, before laundry, before anything. In fact, British researchers recently concluded that women need 20 more minutes of sleep than their male counterparts. Why? Because we do more “jobs” with our minds. For instance, right now? I’m blogging, researching, listening to the movie my kids are watching, keeping up with where my kids are in the room (on the couch relaxing right now, thank goodness!), praying the trash truck doesn’t set off too much of a barking event with the dogs, and thinking about what I’m going to make for dinner. I’m also reminding myself about several tasks I need to complete today. Women, by nature, are multi-taskers. Our minds race ahead of themselves at a very fast pace all day long. The extra 20 minutes of sleep allows our minds to rest just enough to be able to get up and do it all over again the next day.

A new mom is struggling to figure out how she’ll get the chores done, feed the baby, soothe the baby, get a shower, breathe, cook, and fit everything else she used to do into her now controlled by a tiny creature life. It’s not easy. Eventually routine happens. One little thing at a time.

Start small. In the morning, make yourself a cup of tea. Sure, it’s not the dishes, but it’s for YOU. If you’re nursing, the more relaxed you are, the easier it will be for your child to get your breast milk flowing. Then, when you are done, take a few seconds to clean your tea cup/mug/glass. See? One dish done. My great-great grandmother once shared a piece of advice with my mother she never forgot and then thankfully passed down to me. If you’re in a room doing something, take a few seconds to clean. In the bathroom? Clean the sink. Heading to the kitchen? Take any dirty dishes with you and rinse them out if needed. If you get in the habit of cleaning up after yourself bit by bit, there is no large task looming ahead of you. Just tiny little ones here and there. And this is how developing a routine begins. It may not happen overnight, but it will happen. And once it does, I bet some of the anxiety about housework fades and your sleep starts to improve.

Going back to the topic of sleep, it’s important to develop a routine there. In the first few weeks after giving birth it will be hard to have a dedicated routine and frankly, you’ll probably be asleep before your head even hits the pillow when you have a chance to clamber (ok, race) to bed. But once you’re through the first few weeks and baby starts to sleep better, start with just one activity to initiate your bedtime. Some common things to do are: read a book, take a shower or hot bath, drink soothing tea (not caffeinated is important here!), warm milk, a favorite TV show, pray or meditate. As time moves on you can combine these things – take a shower, read a book and have some soothing tea. Or watch a TV show and drink some warm milk.

Napping has also been shown to help with mental acuity. Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison allegedly never slept for long periods of time. They napped here and there. A fifteen to twenty minute power nap can do amazing things. Recent research showed that people who took a 90 minute power nap after lunch scored up to 10 percent higher on a cognitive test than those who did not. Stages of sleep affect our body and minds differently. To understand the different stages a bit better, check out this piece by Diana L. Walcutt, Ph.D at Psych Central.

You must sleep sometime between lunch and dinner, and no halfway measures. Take off your clothes and get into bed. That’s what I always do. Don’t think you will be doing less work because you sleep during the day. That’s a foolish notion held by people who have no imaginations. You will be able to accomplish more. You get two days in one — well, at least one and a half.”

~Winston Churchill~

The keys to recovering a good night’s sleep after giving birth to a baby is to slowly incorporate routine back into your life, asking for help and support, and remembering to Mother the most important person in the house. YOURSELF.

One reader’s reaction to Crystal’s Video

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A close friend of mine, Marcie Ramirez,  a Co-Coordinator with Postpartum Support International in Tennessee, sent me the following piece last night. She wrote it to process her feelings after watching Joseph’s very poignant video about his daughter, Crystal. Marcie used to live in San Diego and was newly recovered from her own journey through postpartum when Crystal’s tragedy occurred. I immediately asked if I could post it as it was beyond fabulous. Sheer power and emotion are captured so magnificently here – I couldn’t let it just sit in my inbox. With no further fuss, here is the piece I received:

Today I was watching a montage that my friend had posted on her blog.  I had read the article which had the basic nuts and bolts…a story of yet another mom who didn’t survive the first year of her child’s life.  A mom, who just like me felt like her family would be better off without her and for whatever reason didn’t feel like she could ask for help.

As I watched the video I not only read the words but I noticed familiarities in the pictures.  It was a landscape common to San Diego, my home until not quite two years ago, where I gave birth to both my children and where I went through the most terrifying experience of my life.  I watched and my suspicions of this woman being from my home town grew when I saw the name of the cemetery.  My heart sank.  I clicked on a link in the blog that took me to the man’s original story and it turned out that he owns a restaurant my husband and I have been to on many occasions.  It was also the restaurant my family and I would go to every Christmas when we would look at the lights on Candy Cane Lane and Christmas Circle.  La Bella’s was one of the few perfect memories of my childhood.

As suspicion turned into reality I realized that I went through my Postpartum hell at the same time she was pregnant and when I was really starting to see a light at the end of my tunnel she saw nothing but darkness.  What if our paths had crossed?  What if I had been able to say something to her that would have allowed her the freedom to ask for help?  I never asked for help.  To this day I am still confident that if I hadn’t have been screened that I would be dead.

San Diego is on the forefront of Postpartum Mood Disorders.  I say this because I know first hand how incredible my access to maternal mental health services was.  I was screened through my pregnancy, before leaving the hospital and again at my six week postpartum checkup.  When I didn’t pass my screening there was a therapist onsite who saw me before I went home.  I saw posters, I had access to a psychiatrist who specialized in maternal mental health.  I wanted to kill myself many times but somehow was able to hold on because I knew if I could just make it to my next appointment that I would have a soft place to fall.  I spent close to two months in a mental hospital when I just couldn’t handle it anymore…but I survived and am thriving.  I am not only a better mom but a better and more empathetic person than I ever thought possible.

Still, when I read the words of this courageous father I was left wondering why she didn’t get the same help?  Was it because she wasn’t screened?  Was it because she developed the PPD after her last screening?  I don’t know and will never know.  What I do know, though is that just as we call our medical professionals to screen new moms we have a responsibility to do our own screening.  We don’t necessarily have to whip out the Edinburgh every week but we can sincerely ask a new mom how she is REALLY doing.  We can learn the signs of PPD and ways that we can help minimize the stress on new moms.   We can offer to bring lunch over and then have a real heart to heart conversation.  We can talk about our own experiences so that the one in seven who are suffering realize that they are not alone.  We can offer to take them to their appointment or watch the baby so they can take an uninterrupted nap.  There are so many things we who have been there can do to make a difference.

Ironically maybe an hour after I read the articles and watched the heart wrenching video, I was at a restaurant with my two boys who are now seven and three.  For some reason my oldest son asked if we could sit at a particular table in a section we had never sat in before.  At the same time a family sat down at the next table.  Mom, dad and a beautiful little girl who was maybe a year old.  The little girl, however screamed over and over and over…and every time she screamed I saw the life draining from her mother’s face.  The mom would bury her head in her hands as if trying to escape.

I was instantly back into my first year postpartum.  I could see, smell, taste and hear the very things that were going on when I was in that place.  My heart sank and I just wanted to walk over, hug her and tell her that she would be able to get through this.  Normally when it’s just a mom and baby I can easily strike up a conversation and casually mention that I had PPD.  This was different, though because dad was there.  He seemed like a wonderful and supportive father from what I could tell from my few minutes watching the family.  He was trying to take over with the daughter so mom could eat in peace.  Eventually he got up to get a drink and I was able to speak briefly with the mom.  I gave her my card which had my contact info for the work I do with Postpartum Support International.

Hopefully this mom was just having a bad day.  But what if she wasn’t?  What if she felt completely hopeless and was ready to escape by any means necessary?  We don’t know.  That is why it is so important for each and every one of us to love new moms and be there for them.  Sometimes a kind word can be the beginning of changing someone’s forever.

The Power of the anniversary

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"A Floating Red Balloon" by jcarlosn @ flickr.com

Put the past behind you.

Move forward.

Be happy about how far you have come since (fill in the blank).

These are all common phrases people love to shoot off when they know someone is struggling to deal with something which happened in the past. While they are certainly lovely sentiments, the one thing people who give voice to these phrases do not know is that memory is very organic. Sure you can do your best to decide to deal with a tragic event in a positive way but then there are the memories which sneak up on us and scare us to death. The anniversary of the birth of my daughters and the anniversary of my time in a mental ward for Postpartum OCD are a few memories which did just that to me.

I am not alone in this experience.

Many women struggle when reaching their child’s first birthday, their hospitalization date, miscarriage date, or the date on which they lost a child. These are all events that leave more than a glancing blow. The fight to return to the “new normal” is an uphill battle. And once the “new normal” arrives and you’ve unpacked the last box, there’s a looming date trouncing your way ever so cheerfully. Sure you can bob and weave but even the best of us may find ourselves down for the count after a few sucker punches.

A fellow PPD warrior mom, Helen Crawford, shared with me that her 1yr anniversary was very traumatic. She could smell/hear the memories of the year before. “My fingers burned. I talked with my therapist. Surviving severe depression is like surviving extreme trauma. I took the finger burning as a reminder to ‘love myself more’ and say thank you to my body.”

Today my three year old daughter found pictures of herself as an infant. Awwwwww, you say. But these particular pictures included a feeding tube taped ever so gingerly to her less than 24 hour old cheek with cute teddy bear gauze tape. Classic symptoms consumed me – heart in throat, check, rapid shallow breathing, check, rapid pulse, check, dizzy, check. Oh.CRAP. She’s been flashing them here and there for the past week and I’ve been ever so nicely sidestepping the issue. But today, today she wanted to know WHAT that was on her cheek and why it was there. Oh boy. And I thought the hard question with kids was supposed to be “Mommy? Where do Babies come from?” (And for the record, I GOT that one today too from her 5 year old sister – what a day!)

Suddenly, there I was again. Curled up in the hospital bed, crying my heart out, aching, hurting, wanting to go back in time to BEFORE the birth, for someone to warn us about the rabbit hole into which we were about to trip. What.the.hell???

She knows about her cleft palate and knows doctors fixed it. She also knows which belly button came from mommy and which one belongs to the doctors. But we have never discussed the tubes. NEVER. As playfully as I could, I explained to her that because her mouth had a hole in it when she was born, she had to eat with a tube which went in through her mouth and went allllll the way down to her stomach. (I can still hear her laughing because I tickled her as I told her this.) Inside, I was dying. I smelled the NICU. I heard the sounds, the crying, saw the tense faces, the reserved mouths as they asked about worst case scenarios. I thought I was going to pass out when she said she wanted these pictures – the tube pictures – up on her bedroom wall. I softly replied that Mommy would have to think about it.

I thought about it all day. ALL day. Once she got home from her 2 hours of special needs pre-k for her speech, we talked. Honestly and age-appropriately. I told her that when she was born while I was very happy to meet her and get to know her, all of the medical stuff surrounding her birth like the tube feedings and surgeries were very difficult for Mommy to handle. And that it was very hard for Mommy to look at pictures of her with tubes and such attached to her. I promised her we would find some different baby pictures to put up on her wall. I also told her that it was ok she had to use a tube – and I was glad the nurses and doctors knew just what to do to help her grow strong so she could become the amazing silly little girl she is today. She was sad but seemed to take it in stride.

To top things off, 12 years ago today, my maternal grandfather passed away suddenly after experiencing congestive heart failure. Yay for anniversaries, right? (And in 19 days, I’ll be marking the anniversary of my paternal grandfather’s death which left me grandparentless. I was a real ball of joy 12 years ago, I tell you what!)

Grief is a tough thing to handle. 12 years ago I dealt with it in a very physical and raw manner. I remember crying, screaming, and punching my then boyfriend until I would literally black out. Healthy, right?

The thing is to give yourself PERMISSION to mourn/remember/accept whatever it is that your anniversary centers around. Celebrate how far you’ve come since said event. Honor the event but also do something to help propel yourself forward. One of the last things my maternal step grandmother said to me (in what I now know was her I know I’m dying soon so I better get this out while I can speech) was to always be the best that I could be no matter what stood in my way. Those words have stuck by me. And even in failure, I’ve always strived to do every single thing that I possibly could before giving up. It’s part of what got me through my PPD. I knew I was better than PPD. I KNEW I had to turn and fight. And every time I have an opportunity to help another mom through her struggles, I am celebrating my anniversary. I am celebrating no longer being alone. I am paying forward the help I received. I am choosing to walk the line between remembering the past yet striving for the future. I AM HERE to do that. And for that, I am grateful.

Remember to celebrate YOU on your child’s birthday too. It’s not just your child’s birthday – it’s YOUR own personal Mother’s Day. Don’t rush around for the kid without stopping to breathe for yourself too. Sure, Hallmark doesn’t make a card for this but that makes it all the more special, right? You’ve earned it. You’re worth it. And doggonnit, we like you. In addition, the more positives you make out of a negative, the less power it holds over you. Darkness cannot win when bathed in light. Choose to regain those reins as you approach your anniversary – whether it’s childbirth, miscarriage, hospitalization, recovery – it’s ok to cry. But it’s totally awesome to party too.

Just Talkin’ Tuesday 11.17.09: When did your fog lift?

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base photo credit "water droplet with fall reflection" by mahalie @ flickr

All the cliches you hear about not being happy are profoundly true. The grass is a dull shade of green – khaki almost, for me at least. The trees filled with sorrow, the birds didn’t chirp as cheerily, the leaves waved as if mourning, the air filled with the weight of the entire world as the clouds swooped down and swarmed around my mind, fogging my vision of anything in front of me. My grandfather called those infamous fogs “pea souppers.”

I remember the day my Pea Soupper existance finally lifted. It was a bright spring day. The trees stood ready to burst forth brand new leaves still wrapped tightly in buds, rain had rushed through – not drenched us but rather left just enough behind for everything to sparkle a bit. I can still smell the rain of that day if I close my eyes and think long enough. THIS is the day I want to hold close to my heart forever when I think of my PPD.

Sure, I remember the bad stuff. I remember the cold sleep room where I first checked out. I remember all too well the smell of the soap from the NICU. I remember the cold hard plastic and mechanical whirring of my breast pump, the flat pillow at the psych ward. But when I think of my PPD, I want to remember that spring day. The day that not only Mother Nature birthed yet another child of spring but I found myself reborn as a complete person – myself and motherhood all rolled into one – ready to take on the very world which waited at my feet. Had it still been raining I may have pulled over and danced a little jig.

So tell us – when did your fog lift?

Let’s get to just talkin’.