Still Not Normal

Photo copyright Wisconsin Kelly

A few weeks ago, I gave one side of my postpartum experience.  I thought I'd take another chance to give the other.

After what seemed like futile attempts to have another child, we had accepted that our son would be one and only.  We changed life direction...and then I learned I was pregnant.

Having experienced what I did after my pregnancy with Z, I immediately knew I couldn't do that again.  My first prenatal appointment with my very awesome doctor was a conversation about the impact of my son's birth.  With a husband, son, new baby, job, and LIFE, I refused to check out again.   I anticipated having moments where I had no desire to leave my bed and the same disconnect I had with him.

What I didn't anticpate is what REALLY happened.  My love and desire to protect E was there from the minute I was born.  In the hospital, I had that same initial guilt for failing to feel that way about Z. I acknowledged it, and remembered I'd more than made up for it in the 8 years that had passed.    My doctor had prescribed Zoloft to ward off any of those postpartum issues.  I initially didn't take it, but after a conversation where I learned it can take 2 weeks to be effective, I gave in to a small dose.

Smart girl, listening to the man who actually WENT to medical school.

About 3 weeks after E's birth, I noticed some things.  I didn't want to go out, I didn't want her around others, and I was only comfortable if she was with one of four people.   I tried to rationalize it as simply being the fact that she was born in the winter, and there was the potential for her new immune system to be weak.   In reality, I had the beginnings of what would become full blown Postpartum Anxiety and OCD.

Again, from Postpartum Progress, the symptoms of Postpartum Anxiety:

You may have postpartum anxiety or postpartum OCD if you have had a baby within the last 12 months and are experiencing some of these symptoms:

• Your thoughts are racing. You can’t quiet your mind. You can’t settle down. You can’t relax.
• You feel like you have to be doing something at all times. Cleaning bottles. Cleaning baby clothes. Cleaning the house. Doing work. Entertaining the baby. Checking on the baby.
• You are worried. Really worried. All. The. Time. Am I doing this right? Will my husband come home from his trip? Will the baby wake up? Is the baby eating enough? Is there something wrong with my baby that I’m missing? No matter what anyone says to reassure you it doesn’t help.
• You may be having disturbing thoughts. Thoughts that you’ve never had before. Scary thoughts that make you wonder whether you aren’t the person you thought you were. They fly into your head unwanted and you know they aren’t right, that this isn’t the real you, but they terrify you and they won’t go away. These thoughts may start with the words “What if …”
• You are afraid to be alone with your baby because of scary thoughts or worries. You are also afraid of things in your house that could potentially cause harm, like kitchen knives or stairs, and you avoid them like the plague.
• You may feel the need to check things constantly. Did I lock the door? Did I lock the car? Did I turn off the oven? Is the baby breathing?
• You may be having physical symptoms like stomach cramps or headaches, shakiness or nausea. You might even have panic attacks.
• You feel like a captive animal, pacing back and forth in a cage. Restless. On edge.
• You can’t eat. You have no appetite.
• You’re having trouble sleeping. You are so, so tired, but you can’t sleep.
• You feel a sense of dread, like something terrible is going to happen.
• You know something is wrong. You may not know you have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, but you know the way you are feeling is NOT right. You think you’ve “gone crazy”.
• You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you’ve lost the “old you” forever.
• You are afraid that if you reach out for help people will judge you. Or that your baby will be taken away.

I had many of those.  If someone jokingly commented about "stealing" my baby away, I immediately began to imagine graphic, unpleasant ways to prevent that from happening.    I had fears about what if I couldn't protect my children.  What if someone tried to really take them?  What if I couldn't teach them to guard themselves?  What if that same thing happened to them?    It began to impact my every day life.  My husband wanted to get out; I had near panic attacks at the thought.  We went to church on Christmas Eve.  I still can't tell you the content of the sermon. I was too busy watching other people to make sure they weren't watching us.   

I knew I needed more help.

First, we increased my dosage again.  It helped a little but not enough.  Next, I did something I hadn't done before:  I looked for help.  Z had seen a psychologist due to ADD symptoms, so I made an appointment to be assessed.  That led to a referral to a counselor.  I was worried about what others might think about my need for therapy.  I hoped my husband and mom and friends wouldn't think it meant I didn't trust them.  I was just worried that they might not be able to effectively help me out of my own head, given that they love me too much.

When I started therapy, I think I initially expected her to help me figure it out.  After a few sessions, I realized her job was to help me figure it out for myself.  Her job wasn't to fix me, it was to help me fix myself. 

With one more med dosage change and more therapy sessions, I began to feel mostly like myself again.  I've always had OCD tendancies, but I was finally able to control them. Getting upset didn't lead to baseboard cleaning on my hands and kneew. And while I still get up to check my children some nights, it's not every night and it's not over and over again.   I'm able to leave the house, go to church, be in public, and simply say thanks when someone gets close enough to tell me E is adorable.  My nightly bouts with insomnia are getting fewer and further apart.

My experience this time has been so much healthier.  In addition to the meds and therapy, I've met three wonderful women who also have varied degrees of PPD/PPA.  Our shared experiences make for a safe haven.  Nothing we can admit thinking is met with judgement or scorn.  We all know it's not normal, and we are able to help one another through those moments and make it over to the other side.

Find a doctor, a support group, a friend.  Talk to SOMEONE.  Doctors and Nurses: again I implore you to not let "I'm okay" be the reason you don't dig a little further.   If she doesn't look okay, odds are she isn't.

If you are the friend, check in often.  Don't be afraid to suggest your new mom friend get help if you recognize the signs above in her. She might get offended at first.  Keep supporting and suggesting.  When you visit, offer to do laundry, a meal, bathtime for other children in addition to getting new squish snuggles.

As before, I'll say it again: IT'S OKAY TO ADMIT YOU NEED HELP!


Because, in the end, normal is overrated anyway.








 

No, It's Not Normal

photo via flickr: copyright Jim Mead

Wow. A year. It's interesting how life and time speed by us.  My year has certainly been eventful.  My family of three is now four, my brother's five are now six, our kids have an amazing new Gramps, and Nana is fantastic as always.  It's been unexpected and surreal, but it's been such a wonderful journey.

While watching my children grow and thrive has been the greatest experience of my life, parts of this journey were marred.  There were dark times. Struggle times. Times when I wasn't sure I could do it. Both times were tied to two of the most significant events in my life.

The birth of each of my children.

I get it; hormone changes can lead to the "baby blues." The state of being overwhelmed and wondering who got your blissful feelings of love for this new being.   I'm not in any way minimalizing these feelings.  If you have them or know a mom who is, get help or reach out to help.  New moms need all the support they can get, be it baby number one or baby number ten.

For this post, I'm referring to Postpartum Depression.  One of two mental health conditions that followed the birth of my children. PPD came with my son.   I'll explore the second in another post.

From Postpartum Progress, here are PPD symptoms:

Okay.  Here we go. You may have postpartum depression if you have had a baby within the last 12 months and are experiencing some of these symptoms:

• You feel overwhelmed.  Not like “hey, this new mom thing is hard.”  More like “I can’t do this and I’m never going to be able to do this.”  You feel like you just can’t handle being a mother.  In fact, you may be wondering whether you should have become a mother in the first place.
• You feel guilty because you believe you should be handling new motherhood better than this.  You feel like your baby deserves better.  You worry whether your baby can tell that you feel so bad, or that you are crying so much, or that you don’t feel the happiness or connection that you thought you would.  You may wonder whether your baby would be better off without you.
• You don’t feel bonded to your baby.  You’re not having that mythical mommy bliss that you see on TV or read about in magazines. Not everyone with PPD feels this way, but many do.
• You can’t understand why this is happening.  You are very confused and scared.
• You feel irritated or angry. You have no patience. Everything annoys you.  You feel resentment toward your baby, or your partner, or your friends who don’t have babies. You feel out-of-control rage.
• You feel nothing. Emptiness and numbness. You are just going through the motions.
• You feel sadness to the depths of your soul. You can’t stop crying, even when there’s no real reason to be crying.
• You feel hopeless, like this situation will never ever get better. You feel weak and defective, like a failure.
• You can’t bring yourself to eat, or perhaps the only thing that makes you feel better is eating.
• You can’t sleep when the baby sleeps, nor can you sleep at any other time. Or maybe you can fall asleep, but you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep no matter how tired you are.  Or maybe all you can do is sleep and you can’t seem to stay awake to get the most basic things done.  Whichever it is, your sleeping is completely screwed up and it’s not just because you have a newborn.
• You can’t concentrate. You can’t focus. You can’t think of the words you want to say. You can’t remember what you were supposed to do. You can’t make a decision. You feel like you’re in a fog.
• You feel disconnected. You feel strangely apart from everyone for some reason, like there’s an invisible wall between you and the rest of the world.
• Maybe you’re doing everything right. You are exercising. You are taking your vitamins. You have a healthy spirituality.  You do yoga. You’re thinking “Why can’t I just get over this?”  You feel like you should be able to snap out of it, but you can’t.
• You might be having thoughts of running away and leaving your family behind. Or you’ve thought of driving off the road, or taking too many pills, or finding some other way to end this misery.
• You know something is wrong. You may not know you have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, but you know the way you are feeling is NOT right. You think you’ve “gone crazy”.
• You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you’ve lost the “old you” forever.
• You are afraid that if you reach out for help people will judge you. Or that your baby will be taken away.

That last one is critical.  I didn't ask for help. I thought it was normal to feel the way I did. I bought into the lie that everyone goes through this.

No, they don't. And no, it's NOT normal.

I went through the motions. I took care of my son. He was fed, kept clean and dry, and was healthy. And while I loved the child I had struggled to have, I didn't like him very much.  I just didn't understand why.

I joke that my husband must have thought he brought someone else home from the hospital.  The reality is he did.  I didn't ask for help, and I should have.

I'm forever changed by the PPD.  I'm now an advocate for new moms.  I had to work to let go of my guilt.  And now, I work to be open and honest and let other moms know that their feelings might not be normal either and it's okay.  I reach out to those I know with new little ones to ask how Mom is doing.  REALLY doing.  I offer help. I urge you to do the same:  take a meal, do some laundry, occupy older children.

And I ask if they've talked to their doctors. If you are a doctor or nurse, I IMPLORE you to not ignore what you see in your patients.  I know you're on a time crunch, and there are many, many more to be seen behind the mother in for her six week checkup.   Please don't let that time crunch keep you from digging a little more and letting that mom know that you're there to help.

If you are that Mom:    YOU ARE NOT ALONE!!  There are specialists, local groups, and online support.  It's okay to get help.  It's okay to admit you need it.


And it's okay if you aren't normal.