Therapy session

I was awoken in the middle of the night by the baby. I headed to his room still sleepy and gave him a bottle. I kissed him goodnight and he was back out in a matter of minutes. I laid back down and started to have anxiety. I woke up my husband and told him I thought I had schizophrenia. He asked why I thought that. I said I was afraid I would start hearing voices. This never happened and I was imagining it because it was late at night and I was still not confident I was not crazy. Suffering from postpartum depression makes you feel crazy. It is so hard to explain, but you know something isn't right because you aren't in control of any of your emotions. They are haywire and you are convinced you are certifiably insane. I fell back asleep and felt safe knowing Phill was right beside me.

I had to meet my new therapist in the morning. I got dressed and headed to her office. I wasn't nervous or anything because this was like a day on the beach compared to the hospital. I had gone to therapy two other times in my life. Both times it was to help me with my anxiety. I have always been a worrier, and I didn't like that about myself. I knew I wanted to change and I didn't want medication. It made a dramatic difference talking to someone about the things I worried about. It really put everything back into perspective when a complete stranger tells you that you need to replace the fear with something positive.

I met my new therapist, a woman, and I knew I really liked her after the first ten minutes. She asked great questions and validated my feelings. It was another great support I had in my corner. I talked about grieving over who I used to be and not accepting this new person I was. I didn't like the fact I had to depend on medication and I couldn't stand the fear of going back into that deep depression again. We talked about goals and how I was going to work through this. We had a concrete plan. She also suggested I read the book by Brooke Shields. I liked that, because it kept me accountable. After 45 minutes, our session was over and we decided that I would meet with her every two weeks.

I went home and walked to the library with my kids. I checked out the book at the library and was a little disappointed that there were only two books in the whole library about postpartum depression. I got home and busted open the book and read the first 100 pages with my mouth gaping wide open.