Category Archives: recovery time

Saturday Sundries: 1.29.11: Meds, More babies, When PPD becomes more

Good mornin, y’all. How’s it going?

I love Saturdays. LOVE. There’s something so cozy about Saturday mornings. Round here, we take things slow and easy, enjoy a delicious brunch, and just hang out. This morning we’re having Turkey Sausage, cheesy scrambled eggs, whole grain toast, mango juice, and coffee. NOM.

That’s what we’re doing here. We’re just sitting down for coffee, brunch, and chatting about some serious stuff, girlfriend to girlfriend. Or friend to friend.

So get cozy, grab your coffee, OJ, or tea, oatmeal, danish, waffle, Cocoa Puffs or Honey Smacks, and prop up your feet (yes, that’s allowed here), and enjoy. This is for you.

As always, I am not a doctor. I am a Mom who has lived through the same hell you (or someone you love) is currently or has lived through. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to be alone and not know where to turn. Please check with your doctor before you do ANYTHING mentioned below. What works for one person may not work for another. This disclaimer is brought to you by Common Sense and Covering my, well, you know.

If you have a question, I’d love to hear it. Email it to me at mypostpartumvoice(@)gmail(dot)com. If you want to stay anonymous, that’s fine. Just tell me in your email. You can also catch me on Twitter via @unxpctdblessing or on Facebook at the My Postpartum Voice Fan Page. With any of these, be sure to mention your question is for the Saturday Sundries feature! I’ll answer just about anything including questions about my personal experience with Postpartum Mood & Anxiety Disorders. What I will NOT do is recommend medications or one form of treatment vs. another form of treatment. That’s for you to discuss with your doctor. I’ll be happy to provide resources and information regarding therapies, etc, but I do not get specific in regards to pharmaceuticals here. It’s an ethical thing.

Now, before your coffee gets cold, let’s get onto the questions!

@walkerKarraa asked: How do moms manage their meds during time in hospital when babies come?

This is really specific from situation to situation. If you are on psychiatric meds during pregnancy and will be on them through delivery and postpartum, this is something you will want to discuss with your provider. Many providers have Mom bring her meds from home. When I delivered my son, I was on medication. I brought it with me and gave the prescription to the nursing staff. They wrote down the information and then gave it back to me. Every morning, they checked with me to make sure I had taken my dose.

I would strongly recommend only bringing as many pills with you as will be needed for your stay in the hospital, if that is where you will be birthing. This way, if there is a misplacement of your prescription, you’re not out an entire month’s supply. This is also a question you can ask at pre-registration. Inquire about hospital policies regarding existing patient prescriptions and how the hospital handles them. Do not assume your hospital will know you need to take Med A at x o’clock and Med B at x o’clock. I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to have this discussion with your caregiver AND the hospital staff where you will be giving birth.

This question came in via email. While the reader did not specify to remain anonymous, I’m going to go ahead and respect her privacy anyway. Given the nature of the question, I immediately emailed an expert on this topic, Karen Kleiman. It was Karen’s book which led me to start this blog, actually. I did not know if I wanted to have another baby after our first one. In fact, we started trying for another one, I totally freaked out, we stopped, and then a few months later, we started up again and bam. Pregnant very quickly. I was on that train. After our second, we were once again on the fence. We had begun to lean toward not when we became pregnant with our son in a very unplanned manner. He’s 3 years old now and the happiest little boy you will ever meet. His happiness is infectious. But I am done. Done done done. I did not have PPD/PPA after his birth. I spent a good bulk of the time during my pregnancy focusing on resources and support for me, not for him. It sounds selfish, I know, but it really paid off. In the end, it WAS for him because the happier I was, the better mother I was able to be for him. Without any further ado, here is the question and the answer from the fabulous Karen Kleiman:

I got PPD/PPA 5 months after my daughter was born and that was 3 years ago. How does a mom like me even consider having another biologically? I read about moms who do it and don’t understand how they get there with the fear, and all. Where are the moms who have had PPD and choose not to have another? Where can I get encouraged from other moms who are like me, and not to feel guilty about not “doing” it again? The guilt is horrible for me.

Karen Kleiman’s answer: The decision to have another baby after experiencing postpartum depression and/or anxiety is complicated by a number of factors:

1) your personal experience

2) your medical history

3) your available support network

4) your course of treatment/recovery and

5) your (and your partner’s) desires, expectations and preferences, just to name a few.

So you can see how complex this decision can be. There are women who decide that having another baby is not worth the anguish of a subsequent pregnancy and unknown postpartum experience. There are women who decide that having another baby after PPD/PPA is worth the risk. It is, to say the least, an extremely personal decision. And one, I might dare say, that is no one’s business, but yours and your partner.

I know there is significant pressure, from society, from friends, from family, etc., but it is perfectly okay for you to determine what course of action is best for you and your family. And the guilt? It can feel overwhelming, to be sure, but guilt can only thrive if you provide the opportunity. You can, with proper support, learn to embrace your decision and more forward with confidence. Find a good therapist, read good books J, find support online, (ppdsupportpage.com, Lauren and her awesome PPD twitterdom, for example). Trust me, there are many many women who struggle with this and there is never one right answer. You will feel better if you can find a therapist who specializes in this area, so you can discuss the pros, the cons, the fear, the guilt, and ultimately make an informed decision that fits your needs the best. Then, take a deep breath, and give yourself permission to stop torturing yourself. All will feel right again soon.

@Zeeke75 asked a question that I’ve been hearing a lot lately. “how do you know when it’s no longer PPD and something else?”

Oh look, a leprachaun – over there! Seriously. Look!

What? You don’t believe m… OOOH! Unicorns! There!

Okay, here’s the deal.

This is a touchy question. This question is really the crux of the current DSM-V debate. It’s very hard to answer. VERY hard.

When I attended the PSI/Marce Conference in Pittsburgh this past October, there was a presenter, Ellen Frank, Ph.D, a volunteer working with the Mood Disorders group. Dr. Frank postulated that due to the lack of research indicating a clear off-set for Postpartum Depression, the current onset of Postpartum Depression and other Postpartum Mood Disorders would continue to show a cut-off date of four weeks. What this means is that according to the new DSM, a woman cannot “officially” have Postpartum Mood Disorder if she presents with symptoms any later than four weeks after birth, something I think is a total crock of BS but hey, what do I know? I’m just someone who did not present with symptoms until 3 months in with my first and was actually told by my physician I didn’t have PPD because I was more than four weeks Postpartum. The DSM’s staff’s argument is that the DSM is merely a reference book and is flexible for interpretation from case to case – well, someone should have told my doc this. He actually pulled out the DSM-IV and read to me.

In the bigger picture, this also means that there is a lack of research in the area of a clear “off-set” of symptoms. This means that it’s really hard to “officially” say that a PMAD has moved from being a PMAD into something else.

Many of us in the field will tell moms that onset for a PMAD is anytime within the first 12 months after birth. We also state that it can take up to 18 months to recover properly. But that doesn’t mean that once your little one turns 18 months you should be running through fields of poppies and floating on clouds.

Recovery time line depends on oh so much. It depends on when you were first PROPERLY diagnosed, when you first received an effective course of treatment/therapy, what kind of support you have, what extenuating circumstances may be present in your life, how cooperative and honest you are in the recovery phase, etc.

How this question is answered from woman to woman varies depending on all of these variables. For some physicians, it’s quite cut and dry. At a certain time, your doctor may consider you no longer Postpartum and into full blown depression, anxiety disorder, etc.

The important thing to remember here is that even if your diagnosis changes, you are still making forward progress even if it doesn’t feel like it. I know it’s overwhelming to go back into that dark place, I do. I went back twice. Each time, it was worse than before. But you know what? I had been there before. I KNEW what I need to do in order to get out. Think of it as playing a video game level. Once you’ve played, even if your character fails and you find yourself at the beginning of the game, you know precisely what to do in order to get through what previously were potholes. So you see, you’re already ahead of the game. You can sides step these really dark holes which trapped you before. Fall into one? Okay. Climb out – you KNOW how to do it. You’ve done it before. You can still do it.

And just because you no longer have the official label of “postpartum depression/anxiety/OCD, etc, doesn’t mean that those of us who have PPD labels, etc, are going to shun you. If anything, we’ll just love you that much more.

Also important to note here is that if you develop a full-blown mental illness, expect your family to struggle with this new diagnosis as well. Many times it is just as hard for them to coped as it is for you. Your loved ones may have previously been accepting, understanding, and supportive. But they may now feel that you are out of the woods and this “relapse” is all in your head. If that happens, send them to me. I’ll set ’em straight.

Those are all the questions we have for today. Don’t forget to submit your questions for next week’s Saturday Sundries. I KNOW you have them!

Postpartum Voice of the Week: Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away: My PPD Experience

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Earlier this week, a fellow member of Twitter messaged a group of us to say she had recently written her story as part of her recovery. She wanted to share it but did not know where to start. I responded and offered her space at my blog. Later that morning, I had her story in my email. Then my week happened. Pediatric appointment with my 4 year old, my 6 year old coming home from school two days in a row and then insomnia hit. I finally got to reading her story and immediately wanted to publish it. I did not want to wait until Thursday. I love the way she breaks down lyrics from “Please don’t take my sunshine away” and writes her story. The story unfolds and unfurls as you feel her frustration, her desperate need to heal. I found myself nodding my head and cheering along with her once life begins to return.

If these words touch you as much as they have touched me and you would like to reach out to her, please leave a message in the comments. I’ll make sure she gets them.

She has asked to remain anonymous for this post and I am respecting this request.

Without further ado, I will step aside and let you read her words.

Update: The author of this post has left a comment and I have verified her desire to share her identity. Her name is Sarah. If you want to reach her, you can do so by sending her mail here: sem55(@)georgetown(dot)edu

She left the following in the comments:

I am the author of this story… what a difference a few months makes. When I wrote this I felt stronger, but still ashamed. My name is Sarah and I have PPD and I AM a great Mom! Thank you to all of the courageous women out there who have reached out to me to share their strength. I only hope I can return a fraction of the support I have received to someone who stumbles upon my story. Thank you Lauren for the opportunity to share, and for all you do for moms!

Thank YOU, Sarah, for revealing yourself. And Kudos to you for taking such a huge step in owning your experience. It’s a HUGE step.

And now, here are SARAH’S words.

You are my sunshine

The second you become a mother you are transformed. Your purpose, your dreams and your complete identity change. My son has taught me how to live, love and grow in ways I could have never understood before. His very being keeps me going and give me purpose. It is a love like no other.

My only sunshine

After nearly three years of trying to get pregnant, including an ectopic pregnancy, surgery and infertility, in June of 2009 I successfully conceived. I didn’t allow myself to get too excited or attached while I went for weekly blood draws and ultrasounds to monitor my early pregnancy. As the first trimester passed and we saw our tiny bean grow into a perfectly formed tiny baby, the hope in me stirred and I began letting myself feel joy. Anxiety continued, however, as I underwent frequent fetal echocardiograms to evaluate the baby for a heart condition he was at risk of developing. The second trimester came and went and his heart remained perfect; we were in the clear. At 32 weeks, I started having contractions, thus followed two hospital visits for pre-term labor. At home, I remained on bedrest, and luckily made it to the 37th week. My labor was quick and my beautiful baby boy A .N. was born perfect and healthy at 6 lb 1 oz. I felt the biggest relief in my life when I saw my newborn baby. This joy dissolved quickly when the OB began the repairs. I began feeling very funny. I was trying to communicate how weird I was feeling when I found I was unable to speak. Ringing in my ears drowned out the sounds and I began to slip into unconsciousness. This is it, I thought. My baby was born healthy, but the price I am paying for it is to die in childbirth. The next thing I knew I was waking up on the Mother-Baby Unit. The nurses there cheerfully told me I had experienced lidocaine toxicity and my baby was with my husband in the nursery. I ached to see his face and hold his perfect body. When they returned, I instantly felt a jolt of joy and energy as I acquainted myself with my new family.

Two days later we were discharged and sent home as a new family of three. Our families had camped out at our house but we sent them home to have the space and room to figure out what we were doing. The next few days were quiet, but things did not feel right with the baby. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with him. My milk came in late and A became dehydrated and difficult to arouse. After that crisis resolved, we received a concerned call from the pediatrician. The results from A’s metabolic screen were positive for a rare but potentially fatal disease. They cautioned us that there are many cases of false positives, but I went into panic mode. We stayed on alert night and day to watch him breathe at all times. We had to wait for a week for the news that it was an error, A was fine.

You make me happy when skies are grey

The weeks after were full of relief, bliss and love. I managed through the marathon feedings and fell more in love with my son each day. Parenting seemed to come naturally to my husband. I finally had everything I dreamed of. Then at 11 weeks, A did a remarkable thing, he slept through the night. Usually a cause for celebration, this milestone marked the beginning of my downfall. I felt as though this gift I had dreamed of for so long was somehow a mirage and could be taken from me at any moment. The lines between fear and reality became blurred. First I stopped being able to sleep, feeling the need to rest my hand on the baby’s chest feeling it’s reassuring rise and fall. I started having the most disturbing images in my head. These horrifying images tortured me relentlessly. I felt constantly nervous and on edge. I felt so agitated I couldn’t keep my body still, when I lay in bed to rest my legs wouldn’t stop moving. I had the most intense feeling that sometime terrible was about to happen to A. Something that I had to stop. Soon I was having stomach problems, not being able to keep anything down and then being unable to force myself to eat. I started going days straight without sleeping. I stopped eating solid foods, losing over 20 lbs. in a month. I became weak and fragile. I began having the images coupled with horrifying phrases in my head. All involved seeing my baby harmed. I started having urges to do things like bang my head on the shower wall to stop them. These urges were like the most intense itch you know you should not scratch. I felt if I didn’t give in to them, I would jump out of my skin or
explode. During the day, I was having panic attacks where I would feel as though I was dying; my arms would go numb, my heart would race, I would become sick to my stomach and feel paralyzed. At night, with the baby and my husband tucked safely in bed, I began having urges to disappear. I wondered how fast I could pack everything up and drive off before they awoke. I thought if I disappeared, my baby would be able to grow and thrive and would be better off without me. My husband did not understand at all what was going on and became very angry at me. We began constantly fighting. I had to ask him to stay home from work or leave work numerous times because I didn’t feel safe alone with the baby. June came and his birthday and father’s day came and went and I found myself unable to get out of bed. I wondered if I was dying or losing my mind. I didn’t want to live anymore. I pictured milestones in A’s life without me present. I became obsessed with planning A’s birthday party because I had the distinct feeling that I wouldn’t be around by then. The day came when I couldn’t take another second. That was when I reached out to my Mom.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

I always wanted to get better. For A, for our family. But help seemed so hard to find. Living in X, I had isolated myself. I didn’t want anyone to know what a bad mother I was so I tried to stop visitors and kept phone calls brief. I had been refusing to take the medications I needed because they were not compatible with nursing. Having to suddenly wean my baby was like a final blow of failure to me. After my urgent phone call to my Mom, she left work in the middle of the day without packing a thing, got on 95 and talked to me on the phone until she arrived 3 hours later. She took me to the midwife, who sent me to the ER to be admitted. Because I told them I had no imminent plans to kill myself, they wouldn’t admit me. They gave me sleeping pills and the address of an urgent care psych center. It turns out the place was a partial-hospitalization program, which my insurance did not cover and would require me
to be away from A during the day. I felt helpless and desperate. I didn’t have any hope of anyone being able to help me. I was taking the medication, but it didn’t seem to be doing
anything for me. Things escalated at home with my husband and I really feared hurting myself, so I packed our stuff and we left for Y.

After my Mom and my sister helped me get settled in Y with A, things started to turn around. I moved in with my sister who was a huge support to me. There was family and friends around me constantly. I had the help I needed to care for A while taking care of myself. I sought help at a local center devoted to post partum mood disorders and began to see a psychiatrist and therapist regularly. I was given a name for what I was going through: Post-Partum OCD. I joined a local support group that meets monthly and I met the most amazing and inspiring women who really get it and have been there. Their strength was contagious. I starting believing that I could get better. The thoughts in my head became more fleeting. I felt more connected with my son. I still had some panic attacks where I felt myself regressing. Dark thoughts would again invade my brain. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t getting better at all and there was no point to struggling through this. But I learned to reach out to those who cared about me when I felt this way. During my darkest days the phrase “this will not end well” would repeat itself in my head, this mantra was now replaced by “this too shall pass.”

Please don’t take my sunshine away

Time, therapy and medication have given me my life back. My recovery has been full of ups and downs, good and bad days. I am still working on mending relationships. But as the Autumn came, I felt my old self emerge. I will never be the person I was before I had a child, but I am a stronger, wiser woman. I have found I am strong enough to make it on my own, but that the support of others is essential. I am learning to enjoy the moments without obsessing about what will come next. I am learning to let go of complete control and let my son explore and experience with my guidance. It’s a new way of living, and it’s very freeing. I am able to enjoy every day with A. He amazes me on a daily basis. I don’t know what challenges or heartaches I might face in the future, but now I am healthy and strong enough to face them head-on. And if I’m not, I will still be ok because of the support system I have. And in February, I will be at my son’s first birthday party, celebrating his year of thriving and mine of survival.

Just Talkin’ Tuesday 05.25.10: How long does recovery take anyway?

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Lately, I’ve had this question thrown my way by more than just a few of you.

It’s a tough question to answer.

There is no defined recovery time we can hand out. It’s not like going to a deli, pulling a number, having your number called and then walking out the door into the wild blue yonder with your neatly wrapped item. Ok, so maybe it’s kind of like that. If it’s a busy deli and the wait is long. And then they’re out of the meat you need. And then you have to start the process all over again somewhere else or settle for something like ham when you really wanted corned beef pastrami.

Bottom line though – recovery is not something your local deli guy will wrap up neatly in butcher paper and tie off with a pretty bow.

Recovery is messy. It can take a long time. It can go quickly. It can involve lots of starts, stops, and side trips.

And in the end, you may be recovered but there will always be the organic memory of the experience of your Postpartum Mood Disorder to jump out at you and mess with you.

So how the heck do I know if I can consider myself recovered from my PMD?

Here are my three humble signs of recovery (always check with your caregiver/therapist and don’t every stop treatment cold turkey!)

1) You have more good days than bad days.

2) You are able to laugh at things.

3) Your world has returned to vibrant colors instead of the dimmed down twilight you’ve been living in for the last several nights.

I remember the day I saw that brighter world. I was on my way home from my therapy appointment. It had rained that morning so everything had been rinsed clean. The sun shone down and the trees burst forth with new growth as they strained for freedom at the birth of spring. As I breathed in the clean scent of rain and honeysuckle, my heart soared. The trees were greener, the sky was bluer, everything sparkled. And not just because of the rain.

Just a few weeks later I discovered I was indeed pregnant with our third child. Scared to death, I worried all my progress would be all for naught. But it was not. I continued to move forward. Not because I had to but because it was what I wanted. Once I got past the shock of our unexpected pregnancy, I focused all my energy on preparing for postpartum support instead of getting ready for baby. It was time well-spent. I educated those around me, created a postpartum plan, and thankfully I thrived. Not all mothers are this fortunate though.

Every mother has a different story, different doctors, and different reasons for struggling.

What helped you recover and if you’re fully recovered, how long did it take you to recover? What advice would you give to a still struggling mother?

One of my favorite songs when I was struggling was “Breathe” by Anna Nalick.My favorite lines?

There’s a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout
But you’re just as far in as you’ll ever be out.

To me, it means keep on going forward. Because it’s FORWARD motion that’s so very healing.

Let’s get to just talkin’!

Enriching postpartum therapy through at-home activities

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In addition to the different types of therapy we discussed yesterday, there are some at home activities you can do (provided your therapist has approved them) to enrich your professional care and journey toward wellness.

First, start a gratitude journal. But I don’t journal. I hate writing! Don’t worry – this isn’t having to write an entire page every day. It’s a simple two entries a day. In the morning, when you first wake up, grab your pen and journal. Write down three things for which you are grateful, no matter how small that thing may be. As your day progresses, focus on what has made you laugh or smile. Once you have retired to bed each night (even if it’s for two hours), write down at least three things which made you smile or laugh during the day. At the beginning, even just barely cracking a smile counts. This activity is two-fold. First, it forces your brain to refocus on the positive things in your life. Second, it provides physical evidence of the positive influences in your life you can look through on the particularly tough days.

Second, write down all five senses on a sheet of paper. Taste, touch, smell, sounds, and sight. Write down five of your favorite things for each sense. Chocolate, silk, a favorite perfume, a cd or song that makes you smile, favorite color or flower or art. Post the list on the fridge. Treat yourself to at least one thing from EACH SENSE every week. Rotate them out. Putting the list on the fridge helps family members and friends to know what to help keep around the house as well. (Sneaky, I know)

Third, take time for yourself. Schedule it if you have to. One thing I love to do is to dress up my lunch. It’s my quiet time of day and I have been known to make a frozen pizza and a coke look like it belongs on a table prepped by Gordon Ramsey. Lean Cuisine never looked so haute. I’ll also treat myself to the routine of making tea. The key is finding one thing you love and making sure you do it at least once a day. Without interruption.

Some other moms will put positive post-its throughout the house and even in the car to help give them a boost when they need it most.

A successful recovery relies heavily on your active participation. If you’re not participating, you’re not getting better. YOU are the most important quotient in the equation when it comes to journeying toward mental health wellness!

How did you actively participate in your recovery? Have any tips for currently struggling moms? We’d love to hear them!

Be sure to stop back tomorrow for the triumphant return of the Friday Soother, my weekly gift to you!

What a week!

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Monday was Charlotte’s cleft repair, pharyngoplasty surgery, and ear tubes.

Tuesday morning she got the nasal tube they put in to aid in breathing removed. Then she ate. And ate some more. And drank.

So we were discharged Tuesday afternoon.

She stopped eating Wednesday morning. Stopped talking by the middle of the day. She was also refusing all medication and foods.

We were instructed to return to the hospital.

So we did.

And there we stayed until yesterday morning when her appetite and fluid intake finally picked up enough to make me feel comfortable with bringing her back home.

Our stay was riddled with issues.

The first issue was failure to get written consent for her ear tube surgery. The surgeon took the time to track down where the breakdown in communication happened and did apologize to us but then just a few sentences later admitted that post-consent happens quite a bit in her practice with her adults. Yeah. We’re SO not going back to see her.

Second issue arose during our return to the hospital. The ER had a hard time getting ahold of Charlotte’s doctor to approve admission even though we had been instructed to return by them. We arrived at the ER at 830p but did not get a room until nearly 2a Thursday morning.

Third issue was our day nurse on Thursday. She was a bit flighty and had a propensity for over-explaining things and failed to be prompt in her attention to us. My daughter’s med pump went off repeatedly as did her fluid pump with no response from her whatsoever. She was apologetic and spent some time trying to kiss Charlotte’s behind but I had the nurse replaced. It’s not my kid you have to impress, lady.

Fourth and fifth issue happened on Friday.

Fourth: A tech walked into our room and asked if I wanted to give Charlotte a bath. I said that I did. So she got everything ready and decided we needed to give Charlotte a sponge bath in bed. We had Charlotte lean back over a bowl of water and wiped her hair down. The tech realized she didn’t have water to rinse with so she went and got some while I tried to keep Charlotte calm and still. The tech returned with the water and began to pour it on Charlotte’s head. Charlotte screamed. I reached up and felt the water. It was absolutely scalding. I immediately told the tech to stop and get out of our room. The water she had gotten was entirely too hot! She acted surprised and I had to ask her several times to leave the room. I asked our nurse to make sure she was not allowed back in our room. I didn’t see her again during our stay.

Fifth: At about 1p the phone in our room rang. I answered. It was a prank call. I hung up. They of course, redialed. I was very unsettled (they said horribly mean and rude things to me) and called our nurse. He came right away and handled the situation beautifully. Unplugged our phone and had our phone number changed. A report was filed.

I don’t tell you all of this to complain. I’m telling you all of this to stand strong. I got flustered only twice during our stays. The first was immediately after surgery when we had to hold Charlotte down as the anestethia worked its way out of her system. She was angry, confused, and frustrated. Kept pulling at her IV, her nose, and wanted to be done with all of the pain. I admit that I cried. It took four hours for her to finally calm down.

The second time was when we got prank called. I was very very scared. I didn’t know if it was someone from inside the hospital or outside. I felt very vulnerable and afraid. I even had a plan in place if someone we did not know were to burst into our room. But nothing came of it and I was able to get back to sleep within the hour.

I am glad this past week is behind us.

On a positive note, Charlotte’s speech is ALREADY improved. She’s saying words that we can now understand a lot more often. There are sounds she struggled with before that she is now making with seemingly no effort. We still have quite a bit of work ahead of us but for now, we’re miles away from where we were this time last week.

Last night was rough but I have hopes tonight won’t be as bad. I think she’s got some night terrors and trauma residuals going on as a result of spending the week at the hospital. Teething tablets and a night light finally helped her go to sleep on her own last night but she spent the bulk of the evening in the living room with me. We’re going to have her return to school so her mind will have other things to focus on as well to help leave the memories of this past week behind.