Mommy, Why Are You Crying?

The future holds so much

2010-11-18T16:49:00.003-05:00

I haven't written in this in a long time, and I should tell you all how my journey has continued.

I have been off my medication for 2 months now, and I'm doing well with it. Withdrawal was hell, and the headaches were torturous. Remember, please, that everyone reacts to medication differently though, and that this may not be typical of your (or anyone else's) results. If you are having issues with your medicines, please do not hesitate to contact your prescribing physician for more advice than I have.

Now, you may wonder why I decided to get off the medication. It was partly because our financial situation didn't warrant purchasing them any longer, and partly because every time I missed pills for a few days, I would start to get the withdrawal headaches, and I just wanted to get over and past them so that I could move on with my life.

Emotion-wise, I have been doing far better than I ever imagined I would be. Familial circumstances sometimes make me upset, or sad, or even a little depressed, but my demons are gone for the most part. I don't usually sit and cry during the day. Instead, I interact with my now-toddler son. The hardest part of my day now is teaching HIM how to deal with HIS emotions!

I am forever leaving this blog up, for all those who find it because they are looking, or for those who find it because they are just like I was at the beginning... in trouble. If you're searching for help now, that's a start.

YOU WILL GET BETTER SOMEDAY.

I wish someone had said those words to me during my hardest times. Knowing there is a light at the end of the PPD tunnel might have made it seem more doable. It might have made me get help sooner than I did.

And who knows, those words might just save a life.

So if you have stumbled upon this page, or I gave you the link because I wanted to share my story with you, then please use the "Previous Posts" links at right. They are in chronological order, so you can start from the top and work your way down. Read my story, and know that what you're going through will someday change. Know that you're not alone.

Never "cured"

2010-04-10T23:03:00.003-04:00

Eight months ago, I was diagnosed with PPD. Today, I'm still on medication and when I happen to run out and not have enough money to refill, I still have episodes. Today was probably one of the worst since my suicide times back in the beginning. It didn't help that the lawn mower I had purchased off of Craigslist caught fire the first time we tried to use it (a mere three days later), and while we were out running errands my cat knocked the screen out of the window and ran away. Luckily the elderly couple we bought the mower from were nice and gave us back our money, and after an extensive late-night neighborhood search on my husband's part, the kitty was found and returned home. However, I suffered probably the worst breakdown I've had in months.

It was Bad.

My son was whining, and pinching me while I sobbed relentlessly on the floor in a ball over my best kitty friend, and I couldn't take it. I tried to sit him down, but he did his "stiff as a board" thing and refused, so I just let him lay down, only I did it by kind of dropping his head, which of course hit the floor. He started screaming, and I realized what I had done and I started bawling harder. I didn't throw him or drop him from more than an inch or so off the ground, but I caused my little boy pain because I couldn't handle what I was feeling.

I literally felt like the worst mother in the world. An hour later, I still do. Who would ever, EVER do that to her child? It was pure evil of me. I called for my husband (who hadn't yet found the kitty at this point) and in between gasping sobs told him to give up and come home. I didn't trust myself anymore, and neither did my son. It broke my heart.

By the time hubby got him ready for bed, a bottle, and a story, he had forgiven me and most likely forgotten. He reached for his Mommy Snuggles like always, but my heart still ached. A part of me realized that deep down, Postpartum Depression is a lifelong affliction. I will never be "cured". This is the same part of me that is still very afraid to ever get pregnant again for fear I'll have to do all this horribleness over again... the preterm labor, the bed rest, the c-section recovery, the PPD... it's all too scary for me. What's even scarier is the fact that I will probably be on this medication for a very long time, if not forever. I never wanted to be someone who had to rely on some sort of head medicine to stay sane. It was enough I had to rely on prescriptions to breathe. But that is my new identity. I'm a mom who suffers from Postpartum Depression. Both are titles I will hold onto for the rest of my life.

A new "Do Not" for PPD sufferers

2009-10-20T16:05:00.001-04:00

DO NOT let your medication lapse. I haven't had the money to refill my Zoloft Rx lately, and so it has been out of my system for three days now. Of course, life would choose just such an occasion to kick me the hardest. Pneumonia with a trip to the ER, and then a lovely huge bank issue involving our 2nd mortgage company taking our payment out twice and causing us to majorly overdraft... those things have sent me back to my dark spiraling place of woe. My son saw me cry and I hate that look he gives me. The "mommy, why are you crying?" look. The one that wonders if it's his fault I'm sad. That look breaks my heart.

So, if you're reading this because you are a sufferer of Postpartum depression like I am, please take my advice and make sure you stay on top of that prescription. It's more important than you think.

Maybe I'm not better yet

2009-09-21T18:18:00.003-04:00

Today was one of the hard days. My son was crying... screaming in fact... and I just needed a few minutes to myself. I got a hold of my husband online and asked if he could escape work early to come relieve me, but to no avail. For the first time in over a month, I felt like breaking down and crying. Sometimes it's still too much for one person to handle. I wanted so badly to get some of the chores done around the house, but when your child just wants to be held and have you walk around to entertain him, it just isn't conducive to getting things done.

Then came the fear that has always inevitably followed one of my "freak outs"... the "what am I going to do?" fear. The "I can't handle this" fear. The "someone please save me" fear.

Too bad there isn't a medication to deal with the fear.

PPD-induced Paranoia

2009-09-09T16:18:00.002-04:00

I just wanted to write about this newfound phenomenon of mine. I don't know if it's necessarily related to the PPD or not, but I wanted to put it out there. Lately, I am always very worried that people I'm around are mad at me. For some reason, there is always a tone in a voice, a look on a face, some other unspoken body language, or even the lack of any of the aforementioned that makes me feel like I should be sorry about something. I apologize almost constantly, mostly to my husband, although many times I have nothing for which I should be apologizing. I have this constant feeling of guilt.

I have been on my medication for well over a month now, and I do mostly feel better. I still haven't gone back to the therapist, which I'll admit is my own fault. I have a decent excuse in that he only has normal business hours during which I cannot find a babysitter, and for some reason it seems slightly wrong of me to take my baby to my postpartum depression therapy sessions. In my mind I would probably be more reserved about discussing my feelings for fear that my son might hear me and miraculously remember something I said about him, and he'd resent me for it. Totally unfounded, yes, I know.

I have noticed that I am much happier when I'm around my child now. I spend a lot more time actually soothing him, wanting to play with him, and just snuggling him. Much more than I did when he was tiny, and I do have regrets about not enjoying his newborn days as much as I should have. I think, too, that his being able (and, more importantly, willing) to smile and laugh at me has made this a much more enjoyable time. Those smiles and giggles are definitely the best payment I could ever get for a mommy job well done. If there was only some way for nature to work those milestones in a few weeks earlier, I would bet money that there would be less PPD. For me, it's next to impossible to feel like crap when that little boy flashes a huge grin in my direction. I consider it the natural cure for PPD, honestly.

A part of me wonders if I'd be feeling as good as I do without the Zoloft though. I see I'm running low on my prescription, and after several warnings not to quit cold turkey, I'm curious how much of this "feeling better" is me and how much of it is actually the medication. I do know that I don't want to be on it for the rest of my life, but I also know that I don't want to go back to where I started this journey. Never in a million years do I want to return to that place. So my new unanswered question is this: when is one actually BETTER? When is PPD actually gone?

You're not alone

2009-08-28T12:56:00.002-04:00

Those are the most important words any PPD sufferer has to hear. Knowing that you're not a freak is a huge part of getting better.

I know I haven't been very good with this blog lately, and I feel bad about that. I started it to deal with my feelings and my journey. I haven't been good with my therapist visits either. His secretary had disappeared after the last appointment, and he wanted me to call back in later to make my next one and I just never got around to it. That was two weeks ago. I need to call him again and make another appointment, I know. Being a stay at home mother means that everyone else is at work all day (including my husband now) and I can't quite get away for an hour session in the middle of the day anymore.

This post will be short, but I am including a link to a blog I've been following since early on in my pregnancy. This mother is only a few weeks behind me and the PPD train hit her really hard. This is a post where she shares her honest feelings, and I wanted to add it here so that others suffering with this same affliction have another point of view, and another way of knowing that we're all not alone.

Post at HisBoysCanSwim.com

The PPD rollercoaster

2009-08-18T19:26:00.002-04:00

It's amazing how PPD can really take you on a ride from hell. After reading the post I wrote yesterday, one might think I was really doing well and on the smooth road to recovery. But the road of PPD is anything but smooth, and I hit some major rocks last night. The problem with this affliction is that stress in other aspects of your life can make it so much worse. We are having some financial issues as backlash from me getting laid off, and last night we realized just how bad things are. I looked at my husband and with tears in my eyes told him repeatedly that I couldn't keep doing this anymore (and by "this" I meant mostly the life of being behind in bills, but partially just life) and that there was a whole bottle of unneccessary Lexapro up on my dresser calling my name. Yes, I hit the suicidal low again, and it was frightening beyond all reason. Thankfully, I have a supportive and loving husband who was able to talk me down. But having those thoughts go through my head leaves a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. That's NOT ME. PPD is turning me into this disgusting monster. And I'm afraid.

I started my 50mg dosage of the Zoloft yesterday too, albeit after I was already deep in the depths of depression and anxiety land. I'm hoping that will help pull me back up into the light.

The end of the ride is still very, very far off.

Changes in medication and demeanor

2009-08-17T16:17:00.002-04:00

After suffering for two days with horrible stomach issues, my doctor switched me from the Lexapro to Zoloft. I have to say that I am so happy we made the change. First of all, my digestive system isn't trying to kill me any longer. Second, I am more myself on this medication. On the Lexapro, I felt so out of it, so zombie-like. I was not me anymore. I was this quiet person who could watch paint dry if I had to. Not enjoyable. I am more able to function mentally on this medicine, which is so much better for me. Unfortunately, this means I have a bottle of thirty dollar pills I won't be using. Oh well. I have noticed that being medicated makes a huge difference in my demeanor. We had some familial drama this past weekend and I was able to handle it, remain calm, cool, and collected, and be the voice of reason for everyone as I mediated. That is a huge step for me, especially since I previously always used my emotions to deal with situations like those.

On the motherhood front, I am starting to feel more bonded to my son than ever before. I can finally decipher his cries and know which one is for hungry, which one is for anger, which one is for discomfort, etc. That amazes me to no end. Before we had him, I always thought people who said they could tell the difference between their child's cries were full of it. Even after I had him, I was still at a loss most of the time and just managed to get it right through trial and error. I notice now that I'm more at ease when I'm holding him in my arms, and I think he has picked up on this as well, since two times this past week he was able to fall asleep on my chest, something he hasn't done since the day after we brought him home from the hospital. I'm also eliciting more smiles out of him... smiles that are just for me, his mommy. My heart swells with joy when I see that little face light up with a grin. Those were the feelings I knew I was missing out on before. I am so glad I made the choice to talk to my doctor and get help. All the pain, all the tears, all the shame and guilt I felt in doing it, all the stomach problems... they are all worth it if I can feel THAT good when my son smiles at me.

Medication, therapy, and playing the game

2009-08-06T17:44:00.003-04:00

I finally broke down and filled my prescription. It's a tier three drug, so it wasn't cheap. I'm only prescribed to take ten milligrams, but even that seemed like a lot. I will admit, it made me feel a lot... lighter, for lack of a better description. As soon as the pill hit my stomach, I instantly felt as if a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. As it finally started to work, I felt a little empty mentally. It did remove the "scary" thoughts, but it also removed most of my other, more mundane ones as well. I'm not entirely sure I like that part of it. My mind was blank. The slate was clean. I found myself zoning out a lot. I understood very quickly why they say not to mix the meds with alcohol. My mother mentioned that she noticed I was acting differently. My husband told me it made me a lot quieter. I felt at ease, almost too much. Today I only took half of my recommended dosage. So far, I feel a little more like myself. The doctor did mention it would take a lot of time to regulate my dosage.

I also had my first counseling session today. It felt good to talk to someone who wasn't so closely involved with my life. We didn't talk much about my PPD, but rather more about my other issues. As I told him, I'm a rich tapestry. I feel a little more comfortable than the last time I sat down with a counselor. It was a little weird to be referred to a man to talk about postpartum issues. Initially, I was very nervous about it. I'm not sure why really. Maybe it was because I'd be opening up to a complete stranger. Lucky for me, he was very laid back and easy to talk to. It was weird sitting in a little room talking about myself for nearly an hour. It was the quintessential therapist's room too, complete with a leather couch. I did make another appointment for next week. I feel like it's important that I follow through for a while for the sake of my son.

It feels good to be working towards recovery. It was a hard choice to make, as I've said previously. Initially, it was easier to be able to give all the expected answers to the repeated questions... to play the game.
"Are you getting any sleep?"
"Actually, he's doing really well. We're very lucky."
"How are you doing, Momma?"
"I'm hanging in there." (Usually said with a big smile.)
I always felt more comfortable just giving glib answers for fear of being judged. You can't say things like "I'm miserable and sick of crying," or "I think my son hates me," or even "I don't feel like a mother." It just doesn't work that way. Everyone wants to know how much he weighs, how much he's sleeping or eating, if he's doing anything new yet. The rest is private, not to be shared. It's why so many women go undiagnosed and just deal with their pain alone. But that's exactly what it is when you try to do things alone: it's lonely. I just got tired of being so alone.

After the doctor visit

2009-08-04T15:42:00.002-04:00

I was so nervous to go in. I have never openly admitted some of these things before... like having thought about suicide. I'd never really do it, but the thoughts were there and were the kind that wouldn't go away. I had to tell her. My husband came with me, sat in the corner of the room entertaining our son, and listened. At one point I saw tears in his eyes. I hadn't told him either, and immediately I felt guilty for not having done so first. The good thing that came out of all of this is that I was taken seriously. Finally, someone validated that I didn't HAVE to feel like this.

I was given a prescription for Lexapro and counseling sessions. I have obviously yet to fill either one. The medication, the doctor tells me as she hands me the slip, possibly will make me feel worse at first. So now I'm kind of scared to take it... you can feel WORSE than THIS? But I will go today to the pharmacy nonetheless. Especially since today we added into the mix a death in our pet family. I could use some "happy pills". I was also put on a sort of suicide watch, although I tearfully promised my husband and son that I would never in a million years actually harm myself or leave them on purpose. He is going to see about working from home for a little while, if nothing else but to help remove some of the stress and lonliness of being a stay at home mother for the first time.

I also finally admitted to my mother that I was feeling the way I am. She was taken aback... "but I never saw any signs or symptoms..."
"That's because I didn't share them with you. I was ashamed."
Shame is actually a symptom in and of itself. But I think sharing my feelings with a medical professional and being vindicated has actually helped the healing process begin. I still have a really long road ahead of me, and that's almost frightening by itself, but I'll get there. And maybe someday, I will wake up and bask in the love of my new family.

One day at a time.

On feeling disconnected and having support

2009-08-02T20:04:00.005-04:00

While looking at my son on my knees this morning, I mentioned to my husband that I still don't feel like he's really mine yet. I feel like someone is going to come and take him away while thanking me for babysitting. I asked him if he felt the same way, but the response I got was the more obvious "no, I feel like he's mine alright". Sigh. I'm alone.

I found out in my research that feeling little to no attachment to the baby is another symptom of PPD. It's the one that breaks my heart the most I think. Here I carried this little guy in my stomach for nine months after working for six months to create him at all, and I don't even feel like I'm his mother. That's not to say I don't love him to death, I do, but I certainly don't feel that life-altering motherhood transformation I was supposed to go through the moment he first looked into my eyes. For this reason alone I am glad I called the doctor and that my appointment is tomorrow.

Another thing I found that goes with this phenomenon is having the thought that the baby "hates" you. I have been feeling this from the very beginning, and had I known it was another PPD red flag, I would have probably acted a lot sooner than 8 weeks. I have been saying from the get-go that my son liked his father more than me. I even figured he didn't like wearing the "Mommy Rocks" onesie I had for him, and that he preferred the daddy-themed ones. It's a strange feeling not being able to comfort your own child. Some might say that he can sense that I was upset and therefore was feeding off that energy for his own. I only partially agree with that. I do think that having the preconceived notion that your baby doesn't like you probably lends itself to you acting differently towards the baby. I worry that I may have done some sort of irrepairable damage to my son, or at least to our relationship. Boys are supposed to connect with their moms, as the term "momma's boy" suggests, but I certainly don't think that holds true for my child.

I feel like I've become far more needy than I used to be, especially when it comes to receiving attention from my husband. I think it does have something to do with the fact that I don't feel like my baby loves me. I find myself wanting nothing more than to have him in the rom with me at all times. When he works late, I start to feel almost physically deprived of his attention, like I am actually thirsting for him as if he were water. Sometimes I have found myself just seeking him out for a hug. Part of my attention neediness has been that he has been a fantastic support for me through this darkness. I had him read my first post and although it scared him, he didn't judge me for my feelings. He even offered to take a late lunch to accompany me to my appointment.

That's why I want to devote some of my post here to the others who suffer from PPD besides the mother: the husbands, the wives, the significant others, the family members, the friends. Anyone who is supporting a woman with PPD. What you do is more important than any other part of a PPD sufferer's recovery. By being there with open ears, open arms, and open minds, you will help get the mommy back to her good old self. You are an important part of her therapy.

Honestly, I was initially afraid to share my hell with my husband. I was afriad he wouldn't want me around the baby, or afraid that he wouldn't want to be around me. But I shouldn't have been afraid. I should have gone to him to talk out my problems. Hiding your feelings from those who care about you will undoubtedly make your feelings worse. Of course, I should continue to practice what I preach here, as I have not been able to mention my issues to my mother for much the same reasons I was afraid to talk to my husband.

And that is where I will leave off for today. Hopefully tomorrow I will have more to write about regarding the first PPD appointment with a physicican.

The start of my journey

2009-07-31T15:10:00.003-04:00

Postpartum depression. You hear about it immediately after you have a child. The thought never crosses your mind... will I be the one to deal with this? But it happens. I started this blog not only to help myself deal with the fact that I am a sufferer of Postpartum Depression, but to help others who may be dealing with their own journeys through the disease. Because that's what it is: a disease. It's time we stop feeling like it's all in our heads. It's not. It's real and it's scary. I felt like if I shared my feelings as I go through this journey, that maybe someone else out there might relate and get help of their own.

Just as any PPD journey begins, I gave birth to my son in the beginning of June, 2009. It was a joyous occasion. I had been on bed rest for the last two months of my pregnancy with preterm labor and toxemia, and I was miserable. Giving birth was a relief. I had a c-section, which I was pretty well prepared for, since my son was breech from about pregnancy week 20 on. Everyone always told me that when you see your child for the first time, your heart changes and you feel a love like no other. But I didn't. At least I didn't think I did. I didn't feel much different, other than the fact that I wasn't pregnant anymore and my stomach hurt. I didn't feel any instant connection to this little person wrapped up in my husband's arms. I didn't break down in tears or suddenly feel this warm feeling everyone had told me about. Where was my mommy-ness?

I spent four days in the hospital after my c-section. I would lay in bed and just stare through the clear plastic crib that my infant son was laid in, sleeping away happily. Why didn't I feel like this was my child? I would have my husband hand him to me and I would snuggle him, but something still didn't feel right. The book the hospital gave me about caring for yourself and your newborn said that some women don't feel an instant connection to their baby right away, but cuddling and holding him would help foster that feeling. I snuggled. I hoped.

When we brought him home from the hospital, we ended up having to deal with jaundice, which required light therapy at home. Seeing my little boy hooked up to a machine really did bring out a little bit of mommy-ness in me, but not what I expected. I felt guilty. Like his illness was somehow my doing. I felt like a BAD mom. I couldn't even keep my own baby healthy. It didn't help that by the time I took him home he had already lost 10% of his birth weight. I couldn't even feed my own child enough. What was I doing? I spent the first five days at home with my son sobbing my eyes out. But I wasn't convinced that I had PPD. Just a case of the "baby blues", I told myself. Nothing serious.

Weeks went by. I was starting to notice how irritable I had become. Little things caused me to snap. The dog was barking or my husband left a dish out on the counter instead of putting it into the sink. These are things that normally would annoy me, but not ANGER me. Then, add into the mix a baby that cries for no reason... he had been fed, been changed. I held him, I set him down, I'd put him in his swing, I'd shake a toy for him, I would strap him to my chest in his carrier. Nothing made him happy... except being held by someone other than me. My own baby hates me, I'd think to myself. But eventually, those thoughts weren't kept to myself anymore. I'd joke that I needed him to have a onesie that said "My Mommy Sucks" because of how much he didn't like me. Friends would chuckle and reassure me that I was a great mom. But I didn't feel it. I still didn't even feel like that much of a mother figure. At least, not the way I always thought I'd feel.

Things got progressively worse. There would be days spent sobbing on the sofa while my son screamed from across the room in his swing. I actually said aloud to my husband one night, "I know this sounds awful, but I understand now why people can shake their babies." That was a thought I would NEVER act upon, and as I later learned is a serious PPD red flag, but I understood the mentality behind it. You want nothing more than for the baby to stop crying somehow. I had to set him down in his bassinet or swing, walk away, and just let him cry. It broke my heart, but I couldn't take it anymore. I was getting nothing done. I hadn't showered in almost a week and my face had broken out into a million painful blemishes. This was not what motherhood was supposed to be like. Where was that warmth? Where was the undying love for my child? Why did I feel like complete and utter crap? This isn't what I signed on for.

Finally, this week hit me like a load of bricks. I found out from work that there may not be a job for me to go back to in the fall (I'm a substitute teacher for a specific school, and the state budget for this kind of school just got slashed, as well as many of the private funds). I frantically put in a call to my boss, and waited. Three days went by with no returned phone call. Convinced I had the wrong number somehow, I mean how could anyone know if the voicemail only reads off the number you dialed, right?.... I sent an email to my boss. I only got an "out of office" reply in response. Our bank account funds were dwindling and I couldn't get the thought out of my head that it was MY FAULT. I wasn't working, I wasn't bringing in any money... and it was my idea to have a child. I alone was the reason for not having any money. I was the cause of my own demise.

Then the scary part started to happen. This little thought crept into my mind. "What if I wasn't around anymore?" Luckily, rational thought kicked in rather quickly for me. Could I really leave my husband and son alone? What would happen to my mother? My funeral alone would bankrupt my family since I didn't have life insurance. The bank account would automatically be frozen and would totally screw my poor hubbs. But then other thoughts follow... what if something just happens to me? I would be hurting my family so much and would leave no legacy other than debt.

I cry. A lot. I feel worthless, useless, unloved and unloving. I worry that I'm not a good mom, especially since I still don't really feel bonded to my child the way I think I should. I feel totally alone in my battle.

This morning came the turning point for me. I was holding my son on my lap while sitting on my bed with the laptop and checking the bank account, a source of frequent tears. And they came, almost on cue. The tears went from feeling guilt about the bank account to feeling guilt that I couldn't be happy in front of my child. I held him against my bent knees and looked into his eyes. For the first time ever, I knew what he was thinking: "Mommy, why are you crying? Don't I make you happy? Are you hurt or sick? I can't help you mommy, but I want you to not be sad anymore." Immediately I broke down into straight sobs and apologizing to him for not being the happy fun mommy he deserved. Immediately I picked up my phone and put a call in to the OBGYN. I was finally determined to get help.

So now I have an appointment on Monday to see someone in the office. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, asking for help. But that appointment will only be the real beginning of my journey. What lies ahead for me in the world of PPD, I do not know. I only know I had to get help, and I did that.

With this blog I intend to log in daily, as much as possible, and tell how my day is. Tell how I'm feeling. Tell if I get put on medication and whether or not it's working. Talk about it, even if no one is reading.

If you think you are dealing with Postpartum Depression, or any form of depression for that matter, I hope you find solace in my blog. Knowing that someone else out there is going through the same thing, feeling the same feelings you are, it can be cathartic. I hope I can help your healing as I help myself.