I couldn't believe another person actually went through what I went through. I thought it was impossible. Brooke Shields did. I felt like I was living through her story all over again. There were points in the book when my heart was racing and I had a huge knot in my throat. I would say over and over again, "Oh my God!" I wanted to hug her and thank her over and over again for writing this book. I wanted everyone to read her book. I wanted to write my own book-but I started a blog instead. I was excited to share my story like she did. She had way more at stake than I did though. Her whole career was on the line. Even Tom Cruise criticized her in public for taking medication. He claimed vitamins could naturally "cure" her. Ummm No!
I had a hard time at this point in my recovery of not thinking about "it" I know I was educating myself and feeling the burn inside me to inform anyone and everyone about my experience. I was engulfed in learning more about postpartum depression and about my recovery. I was running everyday for 20-25 minutes, I was starting my blog, I was reading Brooke's book, I was talking to a lot of people about how I was doing, I was going to therapy and I was talking to my husband constantly about how I was feeling.
I couldn't escape "it" I started to get sad about thinking about "it" all of the time. It was like a constant record playing over and over in my mind. You have postpartum depression, you have to be careful so it doesn't come back, you need to take your medication, you need to exercise, you need to talk about your feelings, and on and on and on....
I was consumed by it. Almost to the point where I was obsessed. It became who I was and I did not like it at all. I was angry. I was feeling sorry for myself. Then I started to pray. I could get through this. The worst was over and now this seemed minuet compared to what I had overcome. I also had to put things into perspective. I was going to be just fine. For one year, I had to be on medication. For one year I had to go to counseling. For one year I had to suffer from this illness that could be controlled.
It could be so much worse. I could have a different diagnosis. I should be grateful for what I was going through. And after awhile I was.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Running for my life
After all of the excitement of the day wore off, it was time for bed. I was still pretty wound up. I watched baby Phillip sleeping in his swing. I kept watching him even though I was growing weary and tired. Phill told me I needed to learn to relax at the end of the night. Watching the baby sleeping wasn't going to help me relax. I laid down in bed and Phill told me he would take care of the baby if he cried during the night.
I had trouble sleeping. Again it was the feel of the house. I was home and I wasn't convinced that the depression was gone. I woke up when the baby cried and went to comfort him. Phill insisted I go back to sleep. That first night home was rough. I woke up a lot and was scared about "going crazy." The next morning I was pretty groggy from my medication. I woke up and Phill was already downstairs. We ate breakfast and planned our day. We needed to go to the grocery store-bad. We barely had any food in the house because none of us were home for over two weeks. After grocery shopping we would hit the outdoor pool down the street.
I also knew I needed to try to get a 20 minute run in. I was so excited to get out and run. I have been a runner since the 6th grade. While most of my friends hated the mile in gym class, I looked forward to it every year. The kids were taking a nap and Phill was home so it worked out well for me to disappear in my running gear and Ipod. Excitement was brewing inside of me to take those first steps. I felt so free as I started out in a jog. I was focused and I was going to make this a great run. My body was not used to running for almost over a year due to the pregnancy. My mind was going to take over for my body and I was visualizing my route. I ran to my usual running songs and felt lost in the moment. I ran faster and pushed myself harder. I was not just running, but I was fighting through all of these mixed emotions and trying to find myself along the way. I was sorting out what I knew about my illness and the medication I was taking. I was fighting for the rest of my life and how I was going to handle this enormous change. It was like running through cobwebs, but I wasn't going to get tangled up this time. I had to process where I was a week ago and where I am now. I found my pace and felt great. I was half way done with my run. I switched my normal upbeat songs to a few of my favorite Christian songs. I felt like God was right with me speaking to me through my music.
Soon I reached my destination after a great success of finishing the 20 minute run. I was brimming with joy and I wanted to celebrate this victory. I have run over 100 races in my life, but this accomplishment was far greater than any other race I ever ran. I was running for my life. Not fear of my life ending, but celebrating it's new beginning. What an amazing blessing!
I had trouble sleeping. Again it was the feel of the house. I was home and I wasn't convinced that the depression was gone. I woke up when the baby cried and went to comfort him. Phill insisted I go back to sleep. That first night home was rough. I woke up a lot and was scared about "going crazy." The next morning I was pretty groggy from my medication. I woke up and Phill was already downstairs. We ate breakfast and planned our day. We needed to go to the grocery store-bad. We barely had any food in the house because none of us were home for over two weeks. After grocery shopping we would hit the outdoor pool down the street.
I also knew I needed to try to get a 20 minute run in. I was so excited to get out and run. I have been a runner since the 6th grade. While most of my friends hated the mile in gym class, I looked forward to it every year. The kids were taking a nap and Phill was home so it worked out well for me to disappear in my running gear and Ipod. Excitement was brewing inside of me to take those first steps. I felt so free as I started out in a jog. I was focused and I was going to make this a great run. My body was not used to running for almost over a year due to the pregnancy. My mind was going to take over for my body and I was visualizing my route. I ran to my usual running songs and felt lost in the moment. I ran faster and pushed myself harder. I was not just running, but I was fighting through all of these mixed emotions and trying to find myself along the way. I was sorting out what I knew about my illness and the medication I was taking. I was fighting for the rest of my life and how I was going to handle this enormous change. It was like running through cobwebs, but I wasn't going to get tangled up this time. I had to process where I was a week ago and where I am now. I found my pace and felt great. I was half way done with my run. I switched my normal upbeat songs to a few of my favorite Christian songs. I felt like God was right with me speaking to me through my music.
Soon I reached my destination after a great success of finishing the 20 minute run. I was brimming with joy and I wanted to celebrate this victory. I have run over 100 races in my life, but this accomplishment was far greater than any other race I ever ran. I was running for my life. Not fear of my life ending, but celebrating it's new beginning. What an amazing blessing!
Monday, September 20, 2010
On fostering and love
We loaded up the car and left Grandma's house. I was glad to have my kids back in my reign and I know Phill was too. We talked the whole way home about the long visit at Grandma's. The kids were there for six days due to my hospitalization. Our foster daughter was there also. She had a great visit as well. Grandma Mary Jo spoils the kids with lots of love and lots of trips to Wal-Mart!
We picked up our foster son who was staying with our good friends.
I was glowing with excitement for Natalie to come home to open the presents I forgot by the side of the door. When we got home I wasn't overwhelmed this time. I was excited we could all be back home under our same familiar roof. I missed my family, and I wanted to reassure everyone that I would be alright and we could go on without skipping a beat. I don't know how much my two older foster kids understood, but they were relieved I was back home and acting like myself again. I didn't want them to see the worst of me. I felt weak in front of them and I felt like I was just another adult in their life that would let them down. Now I know that I can show them that I struggled and I came out stronger for it. I didn't give up on my family when things got tough and they didn't give up on me.
I have been a foster parent for 6 years. I will probably write about my experience someday in blog or maybe a story somewhere, but I am still writing that chapter in my life. Sometimes the kids look up to you like you are flawless, perfect, and have no problems. I was glad I could show them that I was in a horrible, dark place through no fault of my own. This is so much like what these kids have been through already. Through no fault of their own, they have been abandoned, beaten, neglected, and are made to feel unlovable. Trusting someone else to take care of you becomes nearly impossible. I know my experience is like comparing apples to oranges, but I have gained so much insight on every aspect of my life.
I have become a better foster parent. I am not afraid to show my kids affection and tell them I love them, even if they try to resist. They need to know I love them. I talk openly about my struggle with postpartum depression, counseling, and medication. I am showing them that it is so important to get the help you need and medication doesn't mean you are weak.
I have been blessed by all of my amazing kids. The kids that have left my home, the kids who still call or write, and the kids in our home now. They are my heros. They have overcome so much tragedy and they are just children. The odds are stacked against them, but they continue to keep fighting. I am their biggest fan.
We picked up our foster son who was staying with our good friends.
I was glowing with excitement for Natalie to come home to open the presents I forgot by the side of the door. When we got home I wasn't overwhelmed this time. I was excited we could all be back home under our same familiar roof. I missed my family, and I wanted to reassure everyone that I would be alright and we could go on without skipping a beat. I don't know how much my two older foster kids understood, but they were relieved I was back home and acting like myself again. I didn't want them to see the worst of me. I felt weak in front of them and I felt like I was just another adult in their life that would let them down. Now I know that I can show them that I struggled and I came out stronger for it. I didn't give up on my family when things got tough and they didn't give up on me.
I have been a foster parent for 6 years. I will probably write about my experience someday in blog or maybe a story somewhere, but I am still writing that chapter in my life. Sometimes the kids look up to you like you are flawless, perfect, and have no problems. I was glad I could show them that I was in a horrible, dark place through no fault of my own. This is so much like what these kids have been through already. Through no fault of their own, they have been abandoned, beaten, neglected, and are made to feel unlovable. Trusting someone else to take care of you becomes nearly impossible. I know my experience is like comparing apples to oranges, but I have gained so much insight on every aspect of my life.
I have become a better foster parent. I am not afraid to show my kids affection and tell them I love them, even if they try to resist. They need to know I love them. I talk openly about my struggle with postpartum depression, counseling, and medication. I am showing them that it is so important to get the help you need and medication doesn't mean you are weak.
I have been blessed by all of my amazing kids. The kids that have left my home, the kids who still call or write, and the kids in our home now. They are my heros. They have overcome so much tragedy and they are just children. The odds are stacked against them, but they continue to keep fighting. I am their biggest fan.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Birthday Blessings
When Phill and I woke up on Monday morning we had a nice breakfast of waffles and fruit from the lobby. My waffle was drenched in butter and syrup and it tasted so good. I was so excited to get on with the day! I took my medication and noticed that the tingling sensation had subsided. I was very relieved. It must have been that other medication I took in the hospital that I would no longer be taking.
Phill and I packed up our bags and left the hotel. When we pulled up into our driveway a huge wave of anxiety washed over me. I told Phill I was really nervous for some reason. He said we didn't have to rush, we could take our time. When I entered the house the anxiety grew. This was like re-entering my own personal hell. This time I had weapons and I had Phill. I knew I wouldn't "lose it", but I was very scared. This was the place that I endured some of the darkest moments of my life. I didn't like the feeling of the home and I wanted to get out of it. I was afraid the depression lurked somewhere in the walls of this once comforting home.
I wanted to cry because I was so scared, but instead I practiced talking myself down. "You can do this, the worst is over, you are safe here, Phill is right here with you." After about ten minutes, I was able to jump in the shower and I started to feel welcome again in my home. I found a cute outfit and was very excited to start my daughter's third birthday party. I found some wrapping paper and started wrapping her presents.
We headed out to pick up her birthday cake, grab some lunch, and then drive straight to my in-laws house. While we drove, Phill and I talked the whole way. He kept asking me on a scale of 1-10 how I was doing. I would give him a 7 or an 8. I was still a little nervous about the day, but I kept a positive attitude.
We pulled up to my in-laws house and we unloaded the car. Then I realized I forgot to pack Natalie's presents. I was really upset with myself. How do you go to your daughter's birthday party and forget her presents? I put on a smile even though I was really bummed.
We enjoyed her birthday just the same and thought, it will be even more special when we get home because she will have more presents to open. We had an amazing day with our kids and ate Tinkerbell cake. Natalie got a bunch of frosting on her napkin and asked, "Can somebody lick this frosting off please!!"
Phill and I packed up our bags and left the hotel. When we pulled up into our driveway a huge wave of anxiety washed over me. I told Phill I was really nervous for some reason. He said we didn't have to rush, we could take our time. When I entered the house the anxiety grew. This was like re-entering my own personal hell. This time I had weapons and I had Phill. I knew I wouldn't "lose it", but I was very scared. This was the place that I endured some of the darkest moments of my life. I didn't like the feeling of the home and I wanted to get out of it. I was afraid the depression lurked somewhere in the walls of this once comforting home.
I wanted to cry because I was so scared, but instead I practiced talking myself down. "You can do this, the worst is over, you are safe here, Phill is right here with you." After about ten minutes, I was able to jump in the shower and I started to feel welcome again in my home. I found a cute outfit and was very excited to start my daughter's third birthday party. I found some wrapping paper and started wrapping her presents.
We headed out to pick up her birthday cake, grab some lunch, and then drive straight to my in-laws house. While we drove, Phill and I talked the whole way. He kept asking me on a scale of 1-10 how I was doing. I would give him a 7 or an 8. I was still a little nervous about the day, but I kept a positive attitude.
We pulled up to my in-laws house and we unloaded the car. Then I realized I forgot to pack Natalie's presents. I was really upset with myself. How do you go to your daughter's birthday party and forget her presents? I put on a smile even though I was really bummed.
We enjoyed her birthday just the same and thought, it will be even more special when we get home because she will have more presents to open. We had an amazing day with our kids and ate Tinkerbell cake. Natalie got a bunch of frosting on her napkin and asked, "Can somebody lick this frosting off please!!"
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
My little angels
At 1:00 I went to the bathroom to put my swim suit on. I had lost so much weight I felt actually pretty good putting on my swim suit. I had hoped I would be able to keep off that weight, but knew from the past losing weight too fast doesn't usually stay off.
I heard my little Natalie outside the door. She came in our room and screeched excitedly, "Dadda!" She gave him a huge hug. She was completely enamored by her daddy that she paid little attention to me. I didn't mind too much. I hugged my 12 year old foster daughter. I told her I missed her. I really did. I couldn't miss anyone while I was depressed, but now that I was on my road to recovery, I felt everything. I felt extremely guilty that I didn't call her before she left for summer camp. I wanted to wish her good luck and tell her to have a great time at camp. I didn't do that. I felt awful about that. I hoped I could make it up to her. I asked a lot of questions about camp and wanted to know everything. Then I hugged my baby. He was sleeping but I kissed him so many times I didn't care if I woke him up. I told him I loved him and I wanted to melt right into him. He smelled so sweet and looked so peaceful. He would never remember this battle I was fighting and it brought me great comfort knowing this.
I was more concerned about my older kids being affected by my illness. When we stayed with my parents for those two weeks, Natalie kept telling my mom and dad, "My mommy's sad." It didn't even register what I was doing to her. I tried so hard, but I couldn't bring myself to "snap out of it" It made me even more depressed that I couldn't even fake it enough for her to think I was happy.
We went to the pool and we had a great time. Phill played with Natalie in the pool and I held baby Phillip and talked to my mother-in-law, Mary Jo. She was so happy to see me back to my old self. She told me my eyes looked so much better. They used to be glazed over and empty. I imagined I looked a lot like those people on those commercials for anti-depressants. Mary Jo is so understanding and loving. She has been a foster parent for over 22 years. She has dealt with probably close to 50 kids with all different kinds of mental illness. Depression is a very common illness when working with kids who are in care. Thinking back in my 6 years of foster care, almost everyone of the kids had depression and was on medication. I finally understood it now that I had to experience it.
God knew what he was doing when he allowed this illness to enter my life. Looking back on it, it was the best worst experience of my life. I have learned so much and continue to learn everyday. There is tremendous strength in weakness because it forces you to grow. It is definitely the hardest thing I have ever experienced in my 29 years. Brooke Shields says that also in her book "Down Came the Rain. My journey through postpartum depression." I found that hard to believe, because she is a celebrity and has been in the spotlight her entire life.
After swimming we got dressed and headed to a Chinese buffet. It was so great to feel hungry again. I even enjoyed a Mountain Dew. Depression slowly rips things away from you one by one, that you sometimes don't notice it until you have nothing left. Once you are getting treatment, you get those things back one by one. It is an amazing feeling!
We said goodbye to our little angels and told them we would see them the next day. It was Natalie's third birthday. We were going to go home to our house, wrap her birthday presents, pick up her birthday cake from the store and head over to Mary Jo's house to celebrate her birthday. I couldn't wait! I was so relieved that I could be there for her birthday and actually "be there."
I heard my little Natalie outside the door. She came in our room and screeched excitedly, "Dadda!" She gave him a huge hug. She was completely enamored by her daddy that she paid little attention to me. I didn't mind too much. I hugged my 12 year old foster daughter. I told her I missed her. I really did. I couldn't miss anyone while I was depressed, but now that I was on my road to recovery, I felt everything. I felt extremely guilty that I didn't call her before she left for summer camp. I wanted to wish her good luck and tell her to have a great time at camp. I didn't do that. I felt awful about that. I hoped I could make it up to her. I asked a lot of questions about camp and wanted to know everything. Then I hugged my baby. He was sleeping but I kissed him so many times I didn't care if I woke him up. I told him I loved him and I wanted to melt right into him. He smelled so sweet and looked so peaceful. He would never remember this battle I was fighting and it brought me great comfort knowing this.
I was more concerned about my older kids being affected by my illness. When we stayed with my parents for those two weeks, Natalie kept telling my mom and dad, "My mommy's sad." It didn't even register what I was doing to her. I tried so hard, but I couldn't bring myself to "snap out of it" It made me even more depressed that I couldn't even fake it enough for her to think I was happy.
We went to the pool and we had a great time. Phill played with Natalie in the pool and I held baby Phillip and talked to my mother-in-law, Mary Jo. She was so happy to see me back to my old self. She told me my eyes looked so much better. They used to be glazed over and empty. I imagined I looked a lot like those people on those commercials for anti-depressants. Mary Jo is so understanding and loving. She has been a foster parent for over 22 years. She has dealt with probably close to 50 kids with all different kinds of mental illness. Depression is a very common illness when working with kids who are in care. Thinking back in my 6 years of foster care, almost everyone of the kids had depression and was on medication. I finally understood it now that I had to experience it.
God knew what he was doing when he allowed this illness to enter my life. Looking back on it, it was the best worst experience of my life. I have learned so much and continue to learn everyday. There is tremendous strength in weakness because it forces you to grow. It is definitely the hardest thing I have ever experienced in my 29 years. Brooke Shields says that also in her book "Down Came the Rain. My journey through postpartum depression." I found that hard to believe, because she is a celebrity and has been in the spotlight her entire life.
After swimming we got dressed and headed to a Chinese buffet. It was so great to feel hungry again. I even enjoyed a Mountain Dew. Depression slowly rips things away from you one by one, that you sometimes don't notice it until you have nothing left. Once you are getting treatment, you get those things back one by one. It is an amazing feeling!
We said goodbye to our little angels and told them we would see them the next day. It was Natalie's third birthday. We were going to go home to our house, wrap her birthday presents, pick up her birthday cake from the store and head over to Mary Jo's house to celebrate her birthday. I couldn't wait! I was so relieved that I could be there for her birthday and actually "be there."
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
What matters most
Phill had to go through some of his bags to find a couple of the presents he bought for me from Kenya. He told me to open the green bag. It was so heavy. It was a huge carved hippo! I fell in love with the hippos when I went to Kenya last summer with him. It is something I started collecting.
I felt so happy, but I was completely overwhelmed. I explained that to Phill and he kept reminding me that we could do whatever we wanted for the next two days. I told him I would really like to get some exercise because I had been cooped up for the past four days. He guaranteed I would get some "exercise!" He said he would go to the house in the morning and get our swimsuits so we could swim in the pool at the hotel. That sounded great.
I was so excited to hear about his trip, because every day he called me I was so depressed I barely asked how his trip was going. It was getting late and I knew Phill would crash soon because he hadn't slept much in 48 hours due to all the traveling. He told me to wake him up if I needed to. He fell asleep in minutes. I took my Trazadone which is supposed to help you fall asleep. I laid down, but I wasn't tired. I decided to sit up and wait until I was tired. Eventually I fell asleep.
I woke up at 6:30 because Phill was holding me. I tried to be nice, but I was exhausted. He was up at 5:30 due to jet lag. He went out to the lobby for an hour or two and then came back. I woke up and we had breakfast. I was so glad to be with Phill. We talked about his trip and looked at his pictures. It was so great to see his pictures and feel excitement again! By 9:00 we both were trying to figure out how to spend the day. We both wanted to see the kids. He hadn't seen them in two weeks and I hadn't really "seen" them in two weeks as well. I was co-existing with them. That is so hard for me to explain, but really I had other people raising my kids while I was barely living. Phill called his mom and asked if she could bring the kids and they could swim at our hotel. She said they could be there by 1:00. We were both so excited to see our little peanuts!
I felt so happy, but I was completely overwhelmed. I explained that to Phill and he kept reminding me that we could do whatever we wanted for the next two days. I told him I would really like to get some exercise because I had been cooped up for the past four days. He guaranteed I would get some "exercise!" He said he would go to the house in the morning and get our swimsuits so we could swim in the pool at the hotel. That sounded great.
I was so excited to hear about his trip, because every day he called me I was so depressed I barely asked how his trip was going. It was getting late and I knew Phill would crash soon because he hadn't slept much in 48 hours due to all the traveling. He told me to wake him up if I needed to. He fell asleep in minutes. I took my Trazadone which is supposed to help you fall asleep. I laid down, but I wasn't tired. I decided to sit up and wait until I was tired. Eventually I fell asleep.
I woke up at 6:30 because Phill was holding me. I tried to be nice, but I was exhausted. He was up at 5:30 due to jet lag. He went out to the lobby for an hour or two and then came back. I woke up and we had breakfast. I was so glad to be with Phill. We talked about his trip and looked at his pictures. It was so great to see his pictures and feel excitement again! By 9:00 we both were trying to figure out how to spend the day. We both wanted to see the kids. He hadn't seen them in two weeks and I hadn't really "seen" them in two weeks as well. I was co-existing with them. That is so hard for me to explain, but really I had other people raising my kids while I was barely living. Phill called his mom and asked if she could bring the kids and they could swim at our hotel. She said they could be there by 1:00. We were both so excited to see our little peanuts!
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