I'm going to call today an improvement. The beginning of the day most definitely was NOT. I started the day with anxiety. It's not usually really bad during the day, so I was surprised and not in a good way.
I ended up calling my dad mid-morning and asking if he'd come by after he got off work. God bless my dad. He had actually planned to leave a little early anyway, so he came and played with Robbie for 3 hours until David got home. I sat in the recliner like a zombie, moving only to feed Charlotte.
The anxiety actually began to lift around noon, but I was left exhausted and numb. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was recovery from being so tense, maybe it was just plain old mom-of-a-3-week-old tiredness. I don't know.
I had already called my doctor's office about the side effects. I was pretty sure there wasn't much they could do, but I figured I'd give it a shot. I'm to the point where I'm embarrassed when they answer the phone now. It's me again. They've been nothing but kind, of course. I'm not really a fan of being so needy and I feel like I'm sucking the love and attention out of everyone around me. But it's all I can do right now.
I was right, there's not much they can do. Because I'm nursing, there are limited options. She assured me the side effects should fade in the first week. All I could do was thank her, hang up, and hope she was right. And wonder how I'd survive like this for a week.
I took my 2nd dose of lexapro this evening and waiting for it to hit me. No flash of heat overtook me, no instant tingling or panic set in right away. My body seems to be adjusting quickly, so maybe she's right about the week.
This evening, the anxiety creeped back in around 7:30. My hands started shaking again, my stomach churning, even dry heaving at one point. (One bonus of having no appetite- nothing to puke!) It wasn't *quite* as intense as it gets sometimes. I worked through some breathing exercises that haven't been working at all, but I was able to lower the intensity a little more. At this point, I'll call that a win.
Around 9:30, I felt it start to lift a little. I was surprised because it usually lasts at least 4 hours, sometimes as many as 6. Two felt like winning the lottery. It did start to bounce back a little, but I worked on my breathing again and was able to maintain some control of it. Around 10:00, Charlotte and I took a 45 minute nap. That was pretty major because normally when this happens, I can barely sit, I most certainly can't lay and I definitely can't sleep.
It wasn't the most restful sleep ever. I kept waking up jerking a little. But it was sleep and when I woke after 45 minutes, the anxiety was gone. I felt hope again. I thought of the kids and I smiled. David checked on me and I smiled at him. I feel like a person. The world is not caving in on me, after all.
I do hope that it continues. Maybe I'll wake up in a panic again tomorrow, but I am going to cling to this moment where I feel like there is light at the end of the tunnel. My blood pressures have been great on the lower dose of blood pressure meds, so hopefully I'll see and end to them very soon. And maybe one day I'll get through a whole day w/o wondering if today is the day I need to be checked in somewhere. (which was the focus of the crazy thoughts tonight, for the record.)
I do appreciate all the messages of support. When I'm in the darkest points of the panic, when I can barely move, all I do is sit and read the emails and comments and texts. They are what is feeding my hope right now. Thank you all so much.
--Trish
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Survival
One of the things that I've always tried to do here on the blog is be transparent. Good or bad, admirable or shameful, I've always wanted to share the truth of what I was feeling. What I was feeling may not always be the truth (perspective is a funny thing) but emotions are subject to logic or morality. They just are. Sometimes they're fun or happy, but often they're ugly and raw. Whether is was the bitterness over my infertility or the pain of my miscarriages, and into the frustration and exhaustion of a child with special needs, I have always tried to share what I was really feeling. I don't intend for that to change now.
So now I'm going to try to share what crazy feels like. And yes, I know crazy isn't very politically correct when it comes to mental illness. But I feel crazy. I don't think my outside matches how I feel on the inside, but if it did, people would shield their children from me in the streets. It's funny because I've lost so much weight and my skin still has the pregnancy glow so I look pretty good. Everyone keeps commenting on it. "Wow, how do you feel? You look fantastic!" It's nice to hear, but weird because the honest answer to that question is "awful. I just feel awful."
And I think adding to the feeling of craziness is that it is interspersed with these overwhelming feelings of love and joy. Little flashes. Robbie wanted me to play with him and his "rocketshit" tonight and I laughed a real, genuine laugh. There's something about a toddler accidentally saying shit that is beyond funny. And Charlotte smiled in her sleep earlier and I felt like it was a flash of God telling me "she's okay."
But 99% of the rest of the evening? Crazy. I took my first dose of lexapro and honestly, I think it made me feel worse, not better. I guess that's pretty common. I got really flushed and dizzy and blurry eyed. And of course, that's combined with my usual symptoms- trembling hands and legs, nausea, chest pain, irritability, panic, racing thoughts etc. It's a great combination.
I sat down tonight and I prayed loudly to God. I had spoken with a friend about how I felt like I had no words for God even though my faith is fine. She offered me some scripture to let me know that I was not alone. One particularly passage she shared spoke to me.
David and I talked about it tonight. I've had trouble with an anxiety disorder in the past, but it's really been at least livable for more than a decade. David thinks this is different. He's seen me anxious, but he's never seen me like this. He (and I agree) believes this is postpartum chemical whackiness. And it's awful.
The thing is how to get through it? Hopefully tomorrow the lexapro won't send me into the spin it did tonight. Tonight was like nuclear anxiety. I wanted to scream, cry, throw things, run out into the freezing cold and just keep going. Just sitting down to nurse Charlotte, I felt like I was going to climb out of my skin.
I wondered to David earlier if this is how my mother felt before she left. (Trish history flashback: My mother left when I was 2. She called once when I was 27, but I haven't seen her at all since I was younger than Robbie is now.) Maybe she was mentally ill and didn't have the support that I do. There was no Lexapro then. And I know enough about her family back then to know she probably wouldn't have gotten the support that I have. David was less forgiving (and generally, so am I) but who really knows. What I do know is that this condition.. this disease.. this whatever.. it's not reasonable.
Don't mistake me- I'm in no way planning to leave my family. I DO have the support to get through this. But even with all of the support and resources that I have, I'm just barely keeping it together. If I didn't? I don't think that I would. If I didn't have the support I have and didn't love my kids to the depths of my soul, I'd probably have myself in an inpatient program somewhere.
I don't know what to do until things improve. I don't know how long that will take. I'm going to try to get through tomorrow, with David on stand-by at work if he needs to come home. And he will try to arrange things to maybe be off on Wednesday. I might see if my mother-in-law can come on Thursday and Friday. I feel like a failure to even ask. She has a job and has already taken off so much to be with us. If I knew someone to hire to be here particularly in the evening and late night, I'd do that, but I don't and can't find one through an agency as quickly as tomorrow. But we'll figure it out. Somehow.
Right now, I'm coming out of the crazy time. It's 2am and my mind is clearing. My hands are still shaking, my vision is still blurry, and I'm still sweating for no good reason at all. But I can think straight for the first time in hours. I just hope that tomorrow brings more lucidity. And the day after that even more.
In the mean time, prayers for survival and health are all I can do and ask for. They are more appreciated than you know. Fortunately my crazy doesn't preclude gratitude.
--Trish
So now I'm going to try to share what crazy feels like. And yes, I know crazy isn't very politically correct when it comes to mental illness. But I feel crazy. I don't think my outside matches how I feel on the inside, but if it did, people would shield their children from me in the streets. It's funny because I've lost so much weight and my skin still has the pregnancy glow so I look pretty good. Everyone keeps commenting on it. "Wow, how do you feel? You look fantastic!" It's nice to hear, but weird because the honest answer to that question is "awful. I just feel awful."
And I think adding to the feeling of craziness is that it is interspersed with these overwhelming feelings of love and joy. Little flashes. Robbie wanted me to play with him and his "rocketshit" tonight and I laughed a real, genuine laugh. There's something about a toddler accidentally saying shit that is beyond funny. And Charlotte smiled in her sleep earlier and I felt like it was a flash of God telling me "she's okay."
But 99% of the rest of the evening? Crazy. I took my first dose of lexapro and honestly, I think it made me feel worse, not better. I guess that's pretty common. I got really flushed and dizzy and blurry eyed. And of course, that's combined with my usual symptoms- trembling hands and legs, nausea, chest pain, irritability, panic, racing thoughts etc. It's a great combination.
I sat down tonight and I prayed loudly to God. I had spoken with a friend about how I felt like I had no words for God even though my faith is fine. She offered me some scripture to let me know that I was not alone. One particularly passage she shared spoke to me.
Romans 8:26, "In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words."She encouraged me to just speak what was in my heart, so that's what I did. It wasn't a long prayer, but it was a heartfelt one. I cried and thanked Him for the blessings that I can literally look around and count. The kids, of course, but also my husband and my dad and my mother-in-law, all of whom have been nothing but amazingly supportive. My friends, my blog readers, everyone who has sent an email or comment or text or call to say they're thinking of me. I am blessed beyond what any one person deserves. But still the panic comes.
David and I talked about it tonight. I've had trouble with an anxiety disorder in the past, but it's really been at least livable for more than a decade. David thinks this is different. He's seen me anxious, but he's never seen me like this. He (and I agree) believes this is postpartum chemical whackiness. And it's awful.
The thing is how to get through it? Hopefully tomorrow the lexapro won't send me into the spin it did tonight. Tonight was like nuclear anxiety. I wanted to scream, cry, throw things, run out into the freezing cold and just keep going. Just sitting down to nurse Charlotte, I felt like I was going to climb out of my skin.
I wondered to David earlier if this is how my mother felt before she left. (Trish history flashback: My mother left when I was 2. She called once when I was 27, but I haven't seen her at all since I was younger than Robbie is now.) Maybe she was mentally ill and didn't have the support that I do. There was no Lexapro then. And I know enough about her family back then to know she probably wouldn't have gotten the support that I have. David was less forgiving (and generally, so am I) but who really knows. What I do know is that this condition.. this disease.. this whatever.. it's not reasonable.
Don't mistake me- I'm in no way planning to leave my family. I DO have the support to get through this. But even with all of the support and resources that I have, I'm just barely keeping it together. If I didn't? I don't think that I would. If I didn't have the support I have and didn't love my kids to the depths of my soul, I'd probably have myself in an inpatient program somewhere.
I don't know what to do until things improve. I don't know how long that will take. I'm going to try to get through tomorrow, with David on stand-by at work if he needs to come home. And he will try to arrange things to maybe be off on Wednesday. I might see if my mother-in-law can come on Thursday and Friday. I feel like a failure to even ask. She has a job and has already taken off so much to be with us. If I knew someone to hire to be here particularly in the evening and late night, I'd do that, but I don't and can't find one through an agency as quickly as tomorrow. But we'll figure it out. Somehow.
Right now, I'm coming out of the crazy time. It's 2am and my mind is clearing. My hands are still shaking, my vision is still blurry, and I'm still sweating for no good reason at all. But I can think straight for the first time in hours. I just hope that tomorrow brings more lucidity. And the day after that even more.
In the mean time, prayers for survival and health are all I can do and ask for. They are more appreciated than you know. Fortunately my crazy doesn't preclude gratitude.
--Trish
Monday, December 5, 2011
brief update
She's calling me in some Lexapro.
I'm really nervous about this affecting Charlotte, but she says it's safe.
Prayers for it to work for me and NOT to affect Charlotte, please.
I'm really nervous about this affecting Charlotte, but she says it's safe.
Prayers for it to work for me and NOT to affect Charlotte, please.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
PPD Con't
Firstly, thank you so much to everyone who emailed, called, texted and commented. I was crying when I wrote the post because I was so beaten down and hopeless, and then I cried for hours more from the hope that you all offered. Thank you so much.
Last night, it wasn't *so* bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't this sickening hopeless hole of despair. Tonight, I'm afraid it has been, again.
It came on slower tonight. Usually about 6:00, it hits me like a truck. My stomach drops and starts to churn, my hands start to shake, my mind starts to race. Tonight 6:00 came and it was more of a general sense of unwellness. But then about 8:30, the truck got here. My chest started to hurt, my body started to shake, my brain wouldn't stop. I flitted from heart attack to stomach cancer to being unable to make my kids happy to any more of a thousand other scary, awful things. I told himself it wasn't logical. I took deep breaths, I thought happy thoughts. I painted a fake smile on my face and tucked Robbie into bed.
Why? Why is this happening? I know you can offer science. Hormones, brain chemistry, genetics, exhaustion, PTSD, yada yada yada. But why now? Why was last night not-so-bad and tonight so terrible? Is it something I ate? Too much activity? Too little?
We were busy tonight. My dad came over and helped us decorate for Christmas. Robbie thought he'd won the lottery when he saw the tree. He put candy canes on just as proudly as anything you could see. It made me smile. A real smile, too, not a that's-sweet-but-I-can't-really-feel-it smile. When the truck didn't hit me at 6, I thought maybe the distraction had saved me a little bit. But no. Just delayed it.
Maybe it's related to my blood pressure. I dropped my pressure too much today. At one point I was moving the love seat across the room (to put the tree up in its place) and I felt really lightheaded. I took my blood pressure and it was 99/55. That's way too low for me. Oops.
So when my meds were due at 6, just a few hours later, and my BP was only then up to 120/70, I was afraid to take my full dose. So I halved it. At 8:30, when I started to feel Anxious, it was 135/85. Not great, but not awful. At 10, though, it was up to 150/90. So I took the other half. I feel like I can't win.
That brings me to another thing I worry about. (this is a little bit worry and a little bit Worry.) The labetilol has my heart rate LOW (as low as 50 bpm.) won't zoloft (or paxil) do the same thing? That is- drop my heart rate. Can the two be mixed together?
Obviously I need the blood pressure meds. But I don't know how long I can live with this anxiety either. I'm a mess. I need to be able to combine the two.
I went back and looked and after Robbie was born, I had to be on BP meds for 10 days. TEN DAYS. I was pretty much at kidney failure, sick sick sick.. and came out of it in 10 days. Charlotte is now over 3 weeks old and I'm still fighting it. I didn't get nearly as sick with her as with him, but it's clinging to me for dear life. Fucking preeclampsia.
And I know lots of people never get away from the BP meds. Maybe that will happen to me this time. I feel like I've been improving. Heck, I was at 110/70 for a solid week until the last few days. And I can't help but wonder if the Anxiety is what is driving it back up. Both tend to peak at night. So maybe some mood medication would "fix" my blood pressure, too. But if I can't safely take the two together for a little bit to find out, I'm in trouble.
So that's what I'm stressing about tonight. Along with wondering if the chest pain is a heart attack or the heart burn is stomach cancer or if the fact that Charlotte cried for 13 seconds earlier means I'm a terrible mother and won't be able to make her happy. (Yes. That's my brain on Anxiety. Logic not required.)
All I know for sure is that this SUCKS. I really hope my doctor has some hope for me tomorrow. And if any of you successfully combined blood pressure meds with mood stabilizers and nursed at the same time, I'd love to hear that.
Honestly, I'm loving hearing ALL of your success stories. They are the only thing really giving me home right not because I truly feel like I am stuck like this forever. Logically I know that's not the case, but it FEELS like a hole I'll never climb out of. Knowing that some of you have been in the hole and found your way back out (and it seems like with some ease?) is what is keeping me going right now.
If you could all pray for the preeclampsia and the anxiety to leave me be, it would be a lot to me. I'm struggling with my conversation with God right now. My faith is untouched- I know and love a gracious, loving God, but I can't seem to find the right words to pray lately. It's probably part of the depression. So maybe add that to your prayers, too. I guess I just need a lot of help lately, huh?
Trish
Last night, it wasn't *so* bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't this sickening hopeless hole of despair. Tonight, I'm afraid it has been, again.
It came on slower tonight. Usually about 6:00, it hits me like a truck. My stomach drops and starts to churn, my hands start to shake, my mind starts to race. Tonight 6:00 came and it was more of a general sense of unwellness. But then about 8:30, the truck got here. My chest started to hurt, my body started to shake, my brain wouldn't stop. I flitted from heart attack to stomach cancer to being unable to make my kids happy to any more of a thousand other scary, awful things. I told himself it wasn't logical. I took deep breaths, I thought happy thoughts. I painted a fake smile on my face and tucked Robbie into bed.
Why? Why is this happening? I know you can offer science. Hormones, brain chemistry, genetics, exhaustion, PTSD, yada yada yada. But why now? Why was last night not-so-bad and tonight so terrible? Is it something I ate? Too much activity? Too little?
We were busy tonight. My dad came over and helped us decorate for Christmas. Robbie thought he'd won the lottery when he saw the tree. He put candy canes on just as proudly as anything you could see. It made me smile. A real smile, too, not a that's-sweet-but-I-can't-really-feel-it smile. When the truck didn't hit me at 6, I thought maybe the distraction had saved me a little bit. But no. Just delayed it.
Maybe it's related to my blood pressure. I dropped my pressure too much today. At one point I was moving the love seat across the room (to put the tree up in its place) and I felt really lightheaded. I took my blood pressure and it was 99/55. That's way too low for me. Oops.
So when my meds were due at 6, just a few hours later, and my BP was only then up to 120/70, I was afraid to take my full dose. So I halved it. At 8:30, when I started to feel Anxious, it was 135/85. Not great, but not awful. At 10, though, it was up to 150/90. So I took the other half. I feel like I can't win.
That brings me to another thing I worry about. (this is a little bit worry and a little bit Worry.) The labetilol has my heart rate LOW (as low as 50 bpm.) won't zoloft (or paxil) do the same thing? That is- drop my heart rate. Can the two be mixed together?
Obviously I need the blood pressure meds. But I don't know how long I can live with this anxiety either. I'm a mess. I need to be able to combine the two.
I went back and looked and after Robbie was born, I had to be on BP meds for 10 days. TEN DAYS. I was pretty much at kidney failure, sick sick sick.. and came out of it in 10 days. Charlotte is now over 3 weeks old and I'm still fighting it. I didn't get nearly as sick with her as with him, but it's clinging to me for dear life. Fucking preeclampsia.
And I know lots of people never get away from the BP meds. Maybe that will happen to me this time. I feel like I've been improving. Heck, I was at 110/70 for a solid week until the last few days. And I can't help but wonder if the Anxiety is what is driving it back up. Both tend to peak at night. So maybe some mood medication would "fix" my blood pressure, too. But if I can't safely take the two together for a little bit to find out, I'm in trouble.
So that's what I'm stressing about tonight. Along with wondering if the chest pain is a heart attack or the heart burn is stomach cancer or if the fact that Charlotte cried for 13 seconds earlier means I'm a terrible mother and won't be able to make her happy. (Yes. That's my brain on Anxiety. Logic not required.)
All I know for sure is that this SUCKS. I really hope my doctor has some hope for me tomorrow. And if any of you successfully combined blood pressure meds with mood stabilizers and nursed at the same time, I'd love to hear that.
Honestly, I'm loving hearing ALL of your success stories. They are the only thing really giving me home right not because I truly feel like I am stuck like this forever. Logically I know that's not the case, but it FEELS like a hole I'll never climb out of. Knowing that some of you have been in the hole and found your way back out (and it seems like with some ease?) is what is keeping me going right now.
If you could all pray for the preeclampsia and the anxiety to leave me be, it would be a lot to me. I'm struggling with my conversation with God right now. My faith is untouched- I know and love a gracious, loving God, but I can't seem to find the right words to pray lately. It's probably part of the depression. So maybe add that to your prayers, too. I guess I just need a lot of help lately, huh?
Trish
Friday, December 2, 2011
PPD
I'm going to just lay this out here: I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from post-partum depression.
I knew I was having some issues with anxiety and put it off to the baby blues for a while. Then at one point one of the OBs told me that anxiety can be a symptom of high blood pressure, so I thought it was "just" that.
And for a little while, my blood pressures improved and so did the anxiety. And then my blood pressures have gone wonky again the last few days and so has the anxiety.
So the two things at least seem to be correlated.
But the thing is, I still feel anxious even when my blood pressures are fine.
About 6 or 7 at night, it really sets in. It starts with that sinking feeling of doom. Then the nervous stomach starts. Maybe some chest pain. My hands and legs start to tremble. My mind races. I worry about Charlotte's weight, about my milk supply, about germs, about how many episodes of Mickey Mouse Robbie watched today, if the pain my legs is a blood clot, if the cough is really pneumonia, if my husband resents how much of my slack he's pulling, and on and on and on.
I tell myself it's a chemical reaction, not a real one. I try to talk to myself rationally. But it won't stop. Usually until around 10 or 11 at night when it will ease.
The last 2 days have been particularly rough. Yesterday morning I had a round of Anxiety that is usually reserved for the night. I was home alone with the kids and just feeling completely overwhelmed. I walk through the things I'm "supposed" to do to take care of them, but I feel like a zombie. I do them because I have to, not because of any internal drive to do so.
The long and short of it is that I don't feel joy. Yesterday I heard myself laugh at something on TV and actually found myself surprised. I realized it's been days since I laughed. How can that be?
And then the guilt comes. I have two amazing, healthy, beautiful children at home. I have a husband who is supportive and loving. I have family who loves and cares for us without judgement or complaint. I have an awful lot of things to feel joy about. But here I am anyway.
What I realized today (duh) is that it's clearly a "problem." Today I ended up at a cardiologist's office being scanned for blood clots because I couldn't stop worrying about the leg pain I was having. Logically, that probably wasn't too out there- I've got a lot of risk factors- but it was how I felt inside that made it clear it was more than a "better safe than sorry" situation. I was obsessing about it. Because worrying it what I DO.
I sat down tonight and told my husband what I was really feeling. I hadn't told him, or anyone really, how bad it was because I was ashamed. To be frank, I'm still ashamed. I shouldn't feel this way. I feel like a bad mom, a bad wife, a bad daughter, a bad friend, an annoying patient. I feel like I'm letting everyone in my life down.
David was amazing. I feared he'd tell me to get over myself, but he didn't. He reassured me that I'm a great mom and a great wife and that even though I may not feel like I'm doing enough, I really am. We talked about brain chemistry and all of that and he didn't make me feel crazy at all. We talked about natural ways to fight this (exercise, more sunshine etc) and about my decision to call the doctor on Monday for medication.
I wish I could say that made me feel somewhat better, but again- I seem to be incapable of feeling better. It mostly just didn't make me feel worse.
I am worried (there I go again) about the meds and nursing. I'm worried the safest ones won't work. I'm worried I'll never feel better again. Because that's how my brain works right now. I feel stuck in a hole. But I'm also trying to tell myself that's the condition, not reality. The reality is that lots of women are able to successfully treat their PPD and they do come out of it. And their kids are okay. I have to hang onto that in my brain, because my heart isn't quite buying it.
So I will call the doctor on Monday. In the mean time, I hope that you will all pray for me. And I hope that you'll be kind in your comments. I know this is yet another whiny post, but I wanted to be honest and real. This is how I'm feeling. Mental illness isn't fair or logical. It is, however, part of my life.
--Trish
I knew I was having some issues with anxiety and put it off to the baby blues for a while. Then at one point one of the OBs told me that anxiety can be a symptom of high blood pressure, so I thought it was "just" that.
And for a little while, my blood pressures improved and so did the anxiety. And then my blood pressures have gone wonky again the last few days and so has the anxiety.
So the two things at least seem to be correlated.
But the thing is, I still feel anxious even when my blood pressures are fine.
About 6 or 7 at night, it really sets in. It starts with that sinking feeling of doom. Then the nervous stomach starts. Maybe some chest pain. My hands and legs start to tremble. My mind races. I worry about Charlotte's weight, about my milk supply, about germs, about how many episodes of Mickey Mouse Robbie watched today, if the pain my legs is a blood clot, if the cough is really pneumonia, if my husband resents how much of my slack he's pulling, and on and on and on.
I tell myself it's a chemical reaction, not a real one. I try to talk to myself rationally. But it won't stop. Usually until around 10 or 11 at night when it will ease.
The last 2 days have been particularly rough. Yesterday morning I had a round of Anxiety that is usually reserved for the night. I was home alone with the kids and just feeling completely overwhelmed. I walk through the things I'm "supposed" to do to take care of them, but I feel like a zombie. I do them because I have to, not because of any internal drive to do so.
The long and short of it is that I don't feel joy. Yesterday I heard myself laugh at something on TV and actually found myself surprised. I realized it's been days since I laughed. How can that be?
And then the guilt comes. I have two amazing, healthy, beautiful children at home. I have a husband who is supportive and loving. I have family who loves and cares for us without judgement or complaint. I have an awful lot of things to feel joy about. But here I am anyway.
What I realized today (duh) is that it's clearly a "problem." Today I ended up at a cardiologist's office being scanned for blood clots because I couldn't stop worrying about the leg pain I was having. Logically, that probably wasn't too out there- I've got a lot of risk factors- but it was how I felt inside that made it clear it was more than a "better safe than sorry" situation. I was obsessing about it. Because worrying it what I DO.
I sat down tonight and told my husband what I was really feeling. I hadn't told him, or anyone really, how bad it was because I was ashamed. To be frank, I'm still ashamed. I shouldn't feel this way. I feel like a bad mom, a bad wife, a bad daughter, a bad friend, an annoying patient. I feel like I'm letting everyone in my life down.
David was amazing. I feared he'd tell me to get over myself, but he didn't. He reassured me that I'm a great mom and a great wife and that even though I may not feel like I'm doing enough, I really am. We talked about brain chemistry and all of that and he didn't make me feel crazy at all. We talked about natural ways to fight this (exercise, more sunshine etc) and about my decision to call the doctor on Monday for medication.
I wish I could say that made me feel somewhat better, but again- I seem to be incapable of feeling better. It mostly just didn't make me feel worse.
I am worried (there I go again) about the meds and nursing. I'm worried the safest ones won't work. I'm worried I'll never feel better again. Because that's how my brain works right now. I feel stuck in a hole. But I'm also trying to tell myself that's the condition, not reality. The reality is that lots of women are able to successfully treat their PPD and they do come out of it. And their kids are okay. I have to hang onto that in my brain, because my heart isn't quite buying it.
So I will call the doctor on Monday. In the mean time, I hope that you will all pray for me. And I hope that you'll be kind in your comments. I know this is yet another whiny post, but I wanted to be honest and real. This is how I'm feeling. Mental illness isn't fair or logical. It is, however, part of my life.
--Trish
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