Trial and Error

I called my OB doctor on July 9th to tell her what was going on. Since I was staying with my parents and was two hours away, she had to prescribe an anti-depressant over the phone. I started the medication, but knew it would take 4-6 weeks to get the full effect. That first night I woke up in a panic. I was so worried about the baby. He was sound asleep. I waited for the panic attack to subside and it finally did around 2:00 in the morning. I held my baby the rest of the night and dosed off and on with him in my arms. Not only was I depressed, but I was anxious all of the time too. My body was going haywire and I was a nervous wreck. I was completely convinced I was going crazy and I was going to die.
I had to call my doctor again the following day to tell her about my panic attack. She prescribed an anti-anxiety medication, but told me I had to stop breastfeeding. I tried this new medication, but it knocked me out hard. I couldn't keep my eyes open, couldn't drive a car, and I was in a sedated state most of the day. My anxiety stopped, but I was still so depressed.
This continued for two weeks. I would have a few hours a day when the medicine would try to level me out a bit and I would laugh and hug my children as much as I could. I felt like I could only have a glimpse of my old life and I needed to absorb as much of my kids as I could. I wanted them to see me as the mommy they always knew. Every night I dreaded going to bed because I knew I would have to endure hell until the medicine started working. Every second was painful. I remember not wanting to talk because I didn't feel like it. If I did talk it was monotone and slurred. I felt like the whole world was passing me by and I was stuck in slow motion.
My faith was shaken. I prayed constantly to God. I didn't feel his presence, but I knew he could hear me. I prayed that Jesus would protect me and lead me to get the help I needed. Instead Satan was lurking around me. So close to me. I felt like he was laughing at me and taunting me. I didn't think I would ever survive.
In the meantime, my mom was so worried about me she called my OB doctor to talk to her. Because I am an adult, they couldn't talk to her. Instead they made an appointment for me to be seen on July 21st.