Tools (or on my OCD tendencies)

** this was originally posted in 2012, but I thought it was good enough to share again. Enjoy! **

First of all, let me be clear that I have never been diagnosed with OCD, nor am I really sure that the tendencies that I have would even be classified as OCD, but that's what I call them, and that's what I've been told by others, so until I get another explanation, there ya go.

I've always enjoyed a good list. To do lists are my forte. At work, I'm known for "the list". At home, I have a chore list, a grocery list, a meal planning calendar, a daycare planning calendar, expense tracking worksheets, and even gift giving lists. All tracked on Excel.

Oh, how I love Microsoft Excel.

They all started innocently enough. Other than the To Do List (which I've used since I was way younger than anyone should use To Do Lists), they all came about after Jena was born, as tools to help me manage what seemed like an overwhelming amount of responsibility.

I love a list. I believe lists can be invaluable tools.

And I've been thinking a lot about tools lately.

You see, a few months ago, on a Friday, I had brought my chore list to work for some reason. When I left that evening, I accidentally left it on my desk. I remembered just as I pulled in the driveway.

And nearly had an anxiety attack.

I mean, how would I know what chores to do if I don't have my list?!? How will I know what needs to be done?!?

My list, it's organized by regular chores & special one-time chores. It's a matrix in order by date-last-completed, so I know exactly how long it's been since I've done what. I check them off as I go. It tells me what to do next.

And here I was, on a weekend where Jason wasn't gonna be home, and I would have all kinds of time to get housework done, and I didn't have my list.

I can't explain to you the kind of panic that set in. I can also tell you that I knew exactly how crazy that sounded. But it didn't change anything. I was completely hobbled without that list. I think I did manage to put one load of laundry in that Friday night, and Saturday morning I took Jena and drove to my office to get the List.

And yes, I knew exactly how crazy that was. But it didn't change the fact that I needed that list.

And I've been thinking about tools ever since.

Okay, not like constantly ever since, but... you get the idea.

And then, a few weeks ago... I did a load of laundry, and didn't check it off on the list. And unlike my usual remember-within-a few-minutes-and-run-to-the-kitchen-to-mark-it-off, I didn't even remember until the next morning.

I can't tell you how big that moment was, when I realized that I wasn't having anxiety over not recording the fact that I did a load of laundry.

Yes, I know exactly how crazy that sounds.

I never did check that load of laundry off.

I did check off the next load. And the next. And various other chores.

But it was different. I felt different.

I felt... like I was on the edge of something big. I was either going to have a breakthrough, or a breakdown. And in those moments, it felt like it could go either way.

Next thing I know, we needed groceries. But I didn't have time to get my grocery list together. You know, put it together in Excel, in order by aisle, look thru my paper coupons & mark the list accordingly, look for online coupons & mark the list accordingly, check the flier for discounts & mark the list accordingly... it takes time, and I hadn't had time to do it yet. But we needed food.

So I went grocery shopping.

Without a grocery list.

Without one single coupon.

Without knowing what was on sale.

There was something liberating about that trip to Kroger.

Like, really, actually freeing.

I felt free.

I was lucky enough to be by myself, and I dawdled in each aisle, perusing items & prices for what my family would want versus what was reasonably priced. It was probably the least draining shopping trip I've ever had. I dare say I felt energized leaving that store.

And I haven't marked a single chore off my chore list ever since.

Now, granted, there are times when I worry that I've missed a chore, when our house is a mess and I think "maybe I really did need that list".

And then I remember that our house was a mess before, and maybe it's a teeny tiny bit messier than before, but... if so, not by enough to really notice.

I can see when the hamper is full and laundry needs to be done. Or the sink is full and dishes need to be done. Or the garbage is full & needs to be taken out.

Mental note: clean the bathroom.

Why? because it needs it

It's not that I didn't see these things before, it's that I was handicapped by the very tools I created to help me. Or rather I was handicapped by my dependence on these lists.

Example? Sure.

Let's say the living room floor is dirty.

my reaction then: "yuck. The floor is dirty. I need to do laundry so we have clothes to wear, and then if I have time, I can probably do one or two more chores. But I can't sweep the floor until I straighten the living room and pick up toys & things. I'll have to see if anything is higher on the list than "straighten the living room" and "sweep floors"."

my reaction now: "yuck. The floor is dirty. I need to do laundry first so we have clothes to wear, but then I should have time to do one or two more chores. Maybe tonight I'll pick up the living room & sweep the floor."

See the difference? Of course you do.

Tools.

I'm thankful for my lists. I think when I started using them, when I was truly overwhelmed, when I was fighting PPD, when I was struggling with so many issues, I needed them. I needed tools to help me handle the everyday tasks that others take for granted.

Tools are great like that. Tools are meant to be used when one is lacking in the ability to complete the task by themselves.

Think about it. I mean, if you could hammer in a nail with your bare hand... would you ever buy a hammer? Probably not. You need the tool.

But somewhere along the way, my tools became my crutch.

I am better now. I am stronger. I am healed.

I am not perfect. Far, far from it. But I am ready to stop depending on my tools, and start depending on myself.

I am free.

Right now, I am not using any of my lists or calendars for home. None of them. I may reinstate one or more of them in the future (after all, I am a little concerned I'll forget to buy laundry detergent on my next grocery trip), but for now... I'm content to toddle into the world, finding my way again, figuring out how I'm gonna do this, how am I gonna manage these tasks. I'm happy to be in a new phase of home management, redefining how I will manage my home. I will make mistakes along the way, I am sure, but I also feel quite confident that in the end I will be doing a better job than I ever was before.

As always, thanks for checking in.

I Drove Myself Crazy

Yesterday was busy. So I stayed up until midnight tidying up the house. Still not as clean as I'd like, but passable, by our family's standards.

Then Jillian woke me up for a feeding at 3:30am. She had trouble going back down, the I had trouble falling back to sleep, so I was up with her from 3:30am to 5am.

She woke me back up at 7am for her next feeding. So tired. After her feeding I figured I had a better chance of getting more sleep if I slept with her on the couch, so I tried. Half an hour later Jena came in and woke me up.

Score. A total of 6 hours of (interrupted) sleep.

Six hours of sleep actually isn't bad for me. Or for millions of other Americans. Especially moms. It's the interruptions that get us. My longest stretch was 3 1/2 hours. Ugh.

And then I thought about it.

No wonder my mental health was so screwed up after I had Jena. I mean, I know a lot of it was physiological, but no wonder it got so bad and took so long to get better. Because at this stage in the game with her, I had already been back to work for a month.

I also was trying much harder to keep a clean house, cook dinners, etc.

So the scenario back then would have played out something like this:

Stay up until at least midnight (possibly as late as 2am) doing housework.
Up at 3:30am for feeding.
When not asleep by 5am, realize I might as well stay up for work.
Throw in a load of laundry. Do another random household chore.
Get ready for work.
Work for eight-ish hours.
Cook dinner.
In between taking care of Jena, do housework until at least midnight.

Several times a week, literally pass out on the couch, and wake up 2 -3  hours later, usually because Jena is crying or Jason is waking me up. Commence housework or child care.

Here's the deal. Even on that schedule, while my house was cleaner than it is now, it was still a constant mess. While I cooked more than I do now, we still ate out way too often. No matter how hard I tried, how much I did, it was never enough.

And my mental health caved.

My long-time readers might remember this one night in 2011. Nearly three years after Jena was born. It took me nearly three years to realize that my mental health was worth more than a clean house that will never be clean enough, worth more than a smaller pile of laundry that will never be all the way gone.

I know there are women out there who disagree with me, but I think it's ridiculous that our society expects women to be working moms, to return to work when the baby is just six weeks old, most often not even sleeping thru the night yet. Before I had kids I thought nothing of it.

Now, I think it's ludicrous. If that's what you need to do for the financial stability of your family, then so be it. Fine. Good for you for taking care of your family. But the fact that the is has became a societal expectation is ridiculous. Crazy.

And we're driving ourselves crazy - sometimes literally - trying to meet that expectation.

A Letter to the Well-Intentioned:

For the past few years,  you have been inquiring as to the size of our family, asking when we would bless Jena with a sibling.

For the past year, it has happened more frequently. One of you approaches me with this question at least once per week.

Quite frankly, it is none of your business.

Just as it was none of your business the first time around.

But for the record, here's the deal:

- in my younger years, I was informed by my physician to expect fertility issues. There is a very good possiblity that Jena is our miracle child.

- I had severe complications from my labor & delivery with Jena. This makes having another child really scary for me and my husband.

- I struggled with Post Partum Depression for over 2 years following the birth of my first child. This not only postponed the time until I was mentally well enough to even consider having another child, but also adds an additional concern to having another child.

- I've been struggling with pituatary issues for over two years, and have also dealt with various other health concerns.

- we have been trying to conceive, and suffered a miscarriage three months ago.
- I was recently informed by my physician, that because of my ongoing pituatary issues, I am most likely not even ovulating any more, and if we do conceive at this time, am unlikely to carry a pregnancy to term

So there it is. All laid out for you. Now you know the in-a-nutshell version of why we haven't had more kids yet. Thanks for reminding me weekly of some incredibly painful moments in my life. I especially enjoy when you do this loudly, and in public.

By the way, while we're at it, stop asking anyone when they're having kids, getting married, finding a new job, etc. unless the other person invites you to discuss that topic. Despite public results the path to getting to any milestone in life is a very private journey. So knock it off.

Thank you for your kind consideration in this matter.

-- Jodi

It will all work out in the end

"It is not a parent's job to entertain their child" -- Susan Yates

Between that quote, circulating on both Facebook and Pinterest, and this article, which states that "...parents are spending more time with their kids than they did two decades ago." this idea has been on my mind a lot lately.

Truthfully, it's something I struggle with. I think (for me) a lot of it stems from working mom guilt. I feel like I miss so much of Jena's time, that I want to be truly present with her at all times. Really be there, quality time, connecting on her level.

And my housework suffers, and meal preparation suffers, and time with my spouse is lost, and time to pursue my own interest is gone.

But I've always been okay with that.

And still am, to a point.

But lately I've been thinking more and more about whether or not this is best for Jena. Just because she's happier, just because I'm at peace with it, doesn't necessarily mean it is what is in her best interests.

And so I've been trying to redirect some of my time, some of my attention, with the thought that maybe on occasion it's good, not bad, for me to tell her 'no, I can't, I'm busy'. Maybe it's okay for me to do the dishes while she's still awake. Maybe it's good for her to see me working around the house, instead of just waking up to chores being done.

Now, this isn't to say I've never done any work with her around. She's certainly helped me fold clothes, do the dishes, put in the laundry, feed the pets, sweep the floors, etc, etc, etc. in the past. But it's never been my priority. I always put my priority on focusing on her and what she wants to do.

And so now I'm working to shift that focus. To appease my working mom's guilt by telling myself that it really is best for her to see me focus on these other items, even if she's begging me to play. At least once in a while.

Similarly, Jason & I have done a pretty good job of keeping date nights and us-only trips since she was born, but when we're together as a family, the focus is almost exclusively on her, not each other. And maybe that needs to start shifting as well.

And me. My interests. I tried to participate in some of "my" activities after Jena was born, but found it to be too much, overwhelming. And so I still find myself anxious at the thought, but I've scheduled a couple of girls' days out with friends, and I'm seriously thinking about joining a community band in the near future. Because I've been really missing performing lately. There's an ache inside me that misses the music. And so maybe it's time that I make time for that part of me. And yes, I do think it would be good for my daughter to see me perform, to see that Mommy can do other things besides mothering and housework.

It's all a balancing act. One that changes and shifts, morphs along with the passing of time. Maybe I feel that I can refocus because Jena is older. Or maybe it's because my years long struggle with depression & anxiety were clouding my focus before. Or maybe it's because I'm becoming more experienced as a parent.

I suppose the reason doesn't really matter. Only the outcome. And so I shift again. Refocus. Juggle. And see where the balls fall, where things work, where adjustment is needed. And then shift again.

All the while trusting that it will all work out in the end.

Giving it to God

So, you know that financial goal that we're supposed to meet before we start trying? Well, we met it a bit ago.

Ta da!

So now, the big question is exactly when do we TTC? Obviously we didn't rip my Patch off that night, LOL.

I have some other medical stuff going on right now, so current thinking is we'll wait to see how that goes.

We also have a couple of family & relationship milestones coming up, so we've tossed around the idea of waiting until one of those. I guess the idea is it would make it more meaningful.

Although as I type that out it sounds stupid. How much more meaningful than attempting to create life can you get?

And the truth is that we're both nervous. Really nervous. Scared, even.

Jason won't say it, but I think he has a lot of the same fears that I do - will my PPD come back? anxiety? will our marriage weather another child?. I think he also worries about money more than I do. While I don't believe in being stupid, we're in a good position, have met several financial goals, are on the right track, and so... God will provide. I'm definitely much more of a "God will provide" mindset.

The other night I had a moment of doubt. A moment of fear, really. Can I do this? Can we do this?I mean, I'm happy. Ridiculously happy. I adore Jena. I don't ever want anyone (especially her) to think this comes from some place of thinking that she wasn't enough for me. Our family dynamic is good. Financially we are in a great place with only one child. We can give her the world. Having another might change that.

And as all these second thoughts, and fears, and doubts were running thru my mind, I also felt that familiar tug, that pull at my heart telling me our family is not yet complete.

And so, I gave it up.

I talked with God for a bit.

I believe in my heart that there is someone missing from our family. That has not changed over the course of several years. And so, in the near future we will stop our birth control. And give it to God. I asked him that if my heart is correct, and there is someone missing, that He will send us our child. And if not, then not. After all, He is ultimately in control. I told God that if He does bless us with another child, then I will trust His decision, that we can handle this, that everything will be okay, and that He will guide us thru any troubles that might come.

And if He does not see fit to grant us another child, then I will accept that as well. If it takes five years, if it never happens, I will leave it to Him. He knows best. His timing is best.

I am not saying I will not be sad, or disappointed, or confused, if we aren't blessed with another child, simply that I will dwell with peace in my heart, because I have given it to God. He is in control. Not me. Not us. Him.

As sure as I know my name

As much as there is a huge part of me that feels like our family is not yet complete, like there is another tiny soul out there, waiting for us...

there is another part of me that is terrified to go thru my post partum illnesses again, scared that our marital issues will dredge up again with the stress of a newborn, worried that because I struggled so much with one, I'll never be able to handle two.

In my head, I know that there is no reason to think my post partum illnesses will recur, or if they do that they will be as bad or last as long. Especially since now we know in advance what we're up against. But it still scares me.

And I know there is no reason to think our relationship issues will repeat. But then a tiny voice says "but there's no reason not to think that either"

And I know that I have more experience now, a better handle on not just motherhood, but life, and that God won't give me more than I can handle. But I still worry.

But deep down, in my soul, I can feel that our family is not complete. I can't explain it. I don't know how to properly put it into words. I don't know the how's or when's, or even the why's... but I know we are meant to be a family of four. I know it as sure as I know my name.

Apprehension is normal, right?

Eeek! It's getting closer! Quite frankly, it makes me really nervous.

The milestone we want to achieve before TTC is a financial one. And thanks to Dave Ramsey, it keeps getting closer & closer. The way things are right this very minute, we'd start trying in just a few short months.

But... because we're doing so well on the program, making extra payments, etc... it's likely to be even closer than that.
Eeek

We talked about it over the weekend. We both have concerns because our marital problems did start soon after Jena was born. Will another child be another stressor to our lives that we have difficulty overcoming? Both individually and together?

I worry about being able to handle another child, considering I currently do 95% of the childcare, and 90% of what-little-housework-manages-to-get-done.

Of course, we both worry about how Jena will adapt to not getting all of the attention, not only from us, but from grandparents, aunts & uncles, etc (she's the 1st grandbaby on my side, and the only one in town - and the 1st girl born on Jason's side in 2 generations, and the only child under the age of 15). Let's just say she may not be spoiled in material goods, or lack of structure/discipline, but she is definitely spoiled when it comes to the amount of undivided attention she gets.

If I'm being honest, I do go back & forth.

Between my brain... and my heart.

Because in my heart I do not feel like our family is complete just yet. I feel like there is somethingone missing.

I don't want to make any stupid decisions, but at the same time I don't want to end up at 50 yrs old, deciding NOW we can handle it, still feeling this ache in my heart, only now it's too late.

I think it is time. And I imagine most of our apprehension is normal. Right?

Anyway, we did toy with the idea of waiting a bit longer to start TTC, even if we reach our financial milestone before then. My reasons are heart-reasons. Jason's reasons are mind-reasons. Typical, I know, LOL.

In the meantime, I'm preparing. I go for my yearly at the Ob soon, and will be discussing it with him, including anything I might possibly be able to do to avoid the difficult L&D experience of last time. I plan to bring up the idea of a scheduled C-section. Although not usually a fan, I do understand that there's a chance that will be the safest route for me & (hopefully future) baby.

I've quit my endocrine meds cold turkey, due to side effects. I don't see him again until next month to discuss alternative treatment options. Honestly though, as long as my endocrine levels remain normalized, I'd be okay with not going back on anything, especially considering we may TTC in the near future (the meds I was on I would have to quite a full 60 days prior to TTC to avoid birth defects & other complications).

We even gone so far as to discuss whether or not Jena would attend school while I'm on maternity leave. I say 'yes'. First of all, to give me some time to adjust to baby #2, and secondly because she won't really be in "pre"school anymore. She'll be at least in kindergarten, and that would be a lot of time to miss from "regular" school.

We've also discussed the financial impact. How this time we can start saving as soon as we TTC, or before, how we have a better idea of what to expect (not just financially either!), how our new insurance actually covers more maternity costs, how since I'm now a permanent employee I can get paid short-term-disability, etc, etc, etc. We were in a pretty good place financially before. But this time we will be in a much better financial place.

So much so that I should be able to take a full 12-week maternity leave without serious repercussions to our budget.

Which is good, because I'm planning to. Six weeks may be enough for most some, but it definitely was not for me. And no, not in a I-don't-wanna-leave-my-baby way, but in a medical- and emotional- preparation way, due to medical complications & Post Partum Depression. I'd rather plan for 12 weeks off, not need it all, and end up with some extra home-with-baby time, then plan for 6 weeks, then end up needing more time, like happened before.

So I guess... that's where we are right now. A bit long, I know, but thanks for checking in!

Inside the Mind of Depression

This article articulates so well what I have been unable to. The following paragraph particularly speaks to me, and my past experience with depression.

"Everything is irritating. Work is boring and unbearable. Any activity takes many times more effort, as if every movement requires displacing quicksand to make it. What was challenging feels overwhelming; what was sad feels unbearable; what felt joyful feels pleasureless—or, at best, a fleeting drop of pleasure in an ocean of pain."

Read full article here.

Everything was irritating - yep

Work was boring & unbearable - I myself struggled to understand why a job I once loved suddenly became so dreadful. In tears, can barely force myself to go dreadful

Any activity took many times more effort - oh my goodness, yes

What was previously challenging felt overwhelming - can I get a witness?

What was previously sad felt unbearable - check

What previously felt joyful felt pleasureless - numb was more like it

It is only with the hindsight of healing that I can look back on the 2+ years I spent under the cloud of depression that I can see how the depression itself colored my world.

Overwhelmed

I have been feeling quite overwhelmed lately.

Not just busy, but... sinking beneath everything kind of overwhelmed.

Work is insane right now. Instead of my normal 40 different hats to wear, now I have around 60. Every day is a struggle to juggle it all, and I'm barely scraping by. At this moment I'm still managing to accomplish the needed, must-do tasks, but barely. And I can't shake the feeling that I'm always forgetting something.

With the holidays coming up, our lives have been jam-packed with event after event, plus there's shopping & wrapping & cooking & card sending & decorating to get done as well.

Our home looks like a disaster area. Only a slight exaggeration. I'm staying up late & getting up early. Averaging maybe 5 1/2 hours a sleep a night. And still barely managing to keep on top of the necessities (laundry, dishes, groceries).

I know my lack of sleep is probably contributing to this feeling of being beaten, but at the same time I don't see how getting more sleep and getting even less accomplished is going to help anything.

Besides all the things to do, all the stuff, I have a lot of praying to do. Join me?

My dad had surgery on his back.
Surgery & recovery are going well.
However, they still cannot watch Jena. Which means that for the past few Friday's we've had to make alternate arrangements.

My brother had surgery on his adenoids, throat, etc. (severe sleep apnea).
Recovery is not going well. Not sure of all the details, but he still cannot swallow. Everything he tries to take in, comes out his nose. Apparently this is normal for a day or two past surgery. We're on Day 5. He has also ended up in the ER once because he tried to swallow his liquid pain medication, choked, ended up coughing & gagging, and... he coughed up two of his stiches.

My uncle has been diagnosed with lymphoma.He started chemo yesterday. Eight hours.
They've also done some biopsies because they think it may have metastisized to his pancreas & bones.

My great uncle has been diagnosed with cancer.He has decided to forego traditional Western treatment and is using some alternative treatments to ease his discomfort.

A very dear friend, like family really, has been diagnosed with colon cancer.It has spread to his liver. So far treatments have not changed his condition or prognosis. But he is persisting. For now.

Jason's grandmother is very ill.She has been in & out of the hospital for the past few months. I don't know all the details, but I do know her last hospitilization was for a severe kidney infection. She was on IV antibiotics for four days, and was released to a rehab facility. As of right now, doctors will not release her to her home.
This may force her into a nursing home. Which, quite frankly, is what she needs. Her health has deteriorated and she really needs 24/7 medical care. Two of her daughters (including MIL) have been trying to take care of her, going to her home daily, administering medication, fixing meals, and taking blood pressure & blood sugar readings. But they still get phone calls during the day, during the night, whenever her illness strikes again, and they're back at the hospital. I really believe it is in her best interest to be in a home, but she is very adament that she does not want to go, and her daughters I think feel guilty about it, so aren't pushing the issue.

Each & every one of those weighs heavy on my mind & heart daily.

This is also our first holiday season without my father-in-law. I'm sure there will be some tears, but we'll get thru it okay. My mother-in-law? Not so optimistic.

So we are walking on eggshells (did we every stop?), answering her calls for help, trying to just be there for her. I'm not gonna lie, we could do better in this area. But I also couldn't tell you where we'd find the time either.

And while part of me says this is all just life, get over it, it happens, I also find myself feeling so very overpowered by it all. Sinking. Stressed out. Scattered. Unfocused.

And unable to pull myself out of the pile.

I also find myself wondering why.

I don't recall ever feeling so overwhelmed in the past. Even when life crashed down around me, this sense of losing control was never there.

I know that statistically, women who have PPD or other Post-Partum mental disorders are more likely to develop other mental illnesses in their lives.

I find myself wondering if this is me. If the reason I feel so steamrolled by life has less to do with how much is going on in right now, and more to do with my mind's ability to handle it all. Anymore.

Is this just life for me now? Will I become more easily overwhelmed by life as time goes on? Am I destined to become scattered & unfocused & overcome at the first sign of difficulty? Is that who I have become?

Maybe more importantly, is that who I have to be? Is there a way out? I certainly haven't found it yet. Is there even one to be found?

******************************

I feel like this post is a bit... detached. Several topics not quite meshing together the way I'd like. But I've been holding on to it for several days, and keep re-reading it, and am not finding the way to make it all flow a bit better, so... here ya go. As always, thanks for checking in!

Baby Blues, I Told Myself

I remember it like it was yesterday today. I can see you. Each of you.

I know that doesn't make sense, because you came on different days, but it's true.

You came to our home, to help us welcome Jena into our family, to bring us dinner, and to see how we were doing.

I have no idea how I seemed to you at the time.

Maybe I seemed fine. Maybe I seemed off.

I felt off. I felt like a stranger in my own house, lost in my own skin.

I remember not knowing what to do, what to say, feeling awkward.

So many details came flooding back today. Details, details, details.

Mary* was the first to visit. You were wearing a black shirt & jeans. Your dark hair pulled back neatly. You brought tomato soup from Panera. Picked up on your way home from work. Yours & your husband's favorite. And "not too spicy" you said. You peeked in on Jena, who was sleeping in her pack-n-play in the living room. You had Victoria with you, in her carrier, born just a few months earlier. Adorable as ever.

Next was Betsy. You were wearing a striped sweater & jeans, Ugg-style boots, adorable hat to match. You brought your girls with you, dressed to match you. You brought us ready-to-cook enchilada's in a clear baking pan. Peeked quickly in on Jena, and left. I sensed that you were trying hard not to intrude.

Isabel was next, with her boyfriend. You guys brought a KFC family dinner, and ate with us. You were wearing a black button down shirt, untucked, and jeans.

You probably sensed that something was off. Our conversation was good, but there was a moment when I drifted off, staring into space. What you may not have realized is I was trying to focus myself, trying to keep from crying. I don't know why.
I finally excused myself to go to the bathroom. Which I did. And cried on the toilet. And couldn't pull myself together. I heard you get up to leave, so I took a deep breath, blew my nose, composed myself just long enough to come out & wave good-bye from the front porch.
Then I went back inside and felt like crap for the rest of the night. For no real reason at all.

And then there was Lori. She stopped by with her kids on her way back home from the zoo. They'd had a good day, but said it was really super crowded. She & I chatted while the kids & her husband seemed bored. They didn't stay long. After all, I probably seemed bored too. Kept zoning out.

Baby blues, I told myself.

At that point, I hadn't yet been told to go to my doctor. I hadn't yet been told I had Post Partum Depression. I hadn't yet realized how very sick I was.

At that point, I felt a little bit of nothing about you coming to visit.

Somewhere along the way, I realized how much I appreciated those visits. I really did do. I still do. Four years later.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that each of you were moms yourself. So maybe you get it.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that those short little visits are an expression of love, a showing of care & concern for another human being.

Somewhere along the way, I had completely forgotten about them.

Today, they came back to me in a flash, in an instant, vivid, detailed, as if each of them had just happened moments earlier. There was no specific trigger, nothing happened, nothing was said to cause me to think of them. They just appeared instantaneously.

Jena's birthday is approaching.

PTSD is rearing it's ugly head.

This flashback, while it seems lovely, reminds me of how dead I was inside, how just awful I felt.

I cried a little today.

I'm sure it won't be the last flashback I have in the next few weeks.

Welcome back, PTSD. Let's try to keep the traumatic flashbacks to a minimum this year, 'kay? I'd really love to go thru just one of my daughter's birthdays without having a complete meltdown. Can we make it her 4th? Please?

**********************************

* as always, names changed to protect privacy

I don't wanna be crazy (anxiety related)

I haven't had any serious anxiety in well over a year. Prior to that, my anxiety seemed primarily to be a symptom of my post-partum illness(es).

Until earlier this week.

Sunday night I laid in bed for(what seemed like)ever. Every creak, every noise I was certain someone was trying to break in to kidnap Jena.

I laid there, half of my brain certain my child was in immediate danger, the other half trying to convince myself that I was being completely irrational.

I debated going in and scooping up my sleeping really heavy now that she's a preschooler baby and bringing her in to sleep with me.

Like I may have done on occasion in years past when I was convinced someone was trying to kidnap my child in the middle of the night.

Neither side of my brain ever won that argument. Exhaustion won. I finally passed out in bed, still arguing over myself whether or not my child was in imminent danger, or I was being irrational.

**************************

The next night, the same anxiety. Different issue though.

At the last minute (9pm) my sister-in-law called to ask if Jena could come over for an impromptu sleepover, and then go swimming the next day.

Who am I to say 'no' to an aunt who wants to indulge her niece in some summertime fun?

We said good-bye to a way-too-excited little girl around 10pm, and headed to bed shortly thereafter.

I laid awake in bed (again). I couldn't shake my worry that Jena was in danger.

I didn't even realize I'd asked the question aloud until Jason answered.

"Do you think she's okay?"

"She'll be fine"

This time I couldn't envision a scenario, but at the same time I couldn't shake the thought that my daughter was not safe.

My mind began its battle again.

Exhaustion was again the victor.

****************************

I hope no one out there with clinical anxiety takes offense to this, but:

I don't wanna be crazy.

I've seen and dealt with family members who struggle with it. I know what it's like from my extended bout of post partum illness.

I don't want to deal with this for the rest of my life. I don't want to have to be medicated to feel normal. Or to sleep at night.Or just to get the scary thoughts out of my head.

Even though prior to my post partum illness I had never struggled with any form of mental illness myself, I have family members that have.

Which I know (now) increased my risk for developing PPD.

And increases the chances that my PPD will trigger a life long struggle with mental illness.

All I know, is that right now I want to understand what's going on. Why did these episodes occur now, seemingly out of the blue? What does it mean?

Blessings

Physical Blessings:

1) No serious medical issues yet this year
2) My back is stable (not worsening)
3) Jason is healthy & strong as ever
4) Jena is healthy & growing well
5) All the pets are relatively healthy


Financial Blessings:

1) We can feed & clothe our family, and pay our mortgage
2) We have good benefits, including affordable health coverage
3)  Our car is almost paid off
4) We are on target to be debt free (excepting the house) within 2 years max
5) We can afford a few extras


Mental Blessings

1) My issues with depression & anxiety appear to be (mostly) over
2) So far I see no signs that my PPD will lead into Clinical Depression
3) My job is providing me with enough challenges to stretch me, but not enough to stress me
4) Jena has tested above her age group in all developmental milestones
5) I haven't had writer's block in months


Spiritual Blessings

1) Mine & my husband's salvation
2) So many answered prayers & visible miracles
3) Continued growth in the Lord
4) Finding my "fit" in our church home
5) Spiritual battles won


Answered Prayer

1) TheBoy's miraculous recovery
2) Continued growth & healing in our marriage
3) Promises fulfilled
4) Safety for Jason on the job
5) Unspoken


Today's Blessings

1) We all woke up this morning (and healthy too!)
2) We both have jobs to go to
3) My parents watching Jena
4) We can talk during the day
5) Phone call from a friend

**********************

this post inspired by this post

Why I Talk About PPD

Sometimes I wonder if I should be so open & honest about my struggles with depression & PTSD. Until I get messages like this one (names redacted):

"I know we haven't talked directly in like 10 years, and if what I'm going to ask is too personal, I totally understand.

My son was born a month ago, and I've come to realize that my wife is suffering from post partum depression. I know I saw some post from you on the matter a while back so I was hoping for some thoughts/advice.

I encouraged her to talk to her OB and he suggested going shopping, which felt like he wasn't taking her seriously.

I'm not real sure what I'm trying to ask you, I just feel a little lost and helpless. So if you have any thoughts/ advice /prayers please send them my and my wife's way."

This is why I tell others about my experience.
Because there are still medical professionals telling women a shopping trip will help their PPD.
Because husbands want desperately to help their wives, but don't know where to start.
Because women need to know they are not alone, and there is hope.

I wanna talk about Post Partum Depression

I know. You'd think with my kid being over three years old I'd be over it, right? But no. I'm not.

I think about it a lot, in fact. Think about how I was. Things I did or didn't do. Wonder if other women have it. As much attention as it's getting (now, as compared to years past), it still feels like something we don't talk about nearly enough.

There's still too much stigma attached to it.

I came across this post about misconceptions re: PPD, and I get it.

Jason didn't, doesn't, and hasn't ever talked about my his our experience with PPD, so I honestly don't know exactly what he was thinking. Or still thinks.

If any of those misconceptions, I think Jason might have had the first one: "Women who are depressed cannot function."

Maybe. He's never really said.

The only reason I say this is because sometimes I thought (still) think that he never realized how sick I was, because I was functioning, I was getting by.

Honestly, taking the context out of the home and looking back at some of my actions & behaviors during my post partum months, I cannot believe none of my co-workers raised the red flag.

I know I work with men (who can sometimes be oblivious to details), and I know they travel frequently, but... I still cannot believe that not one saw a serious problem. Or at least, no one talked to me about it, or reported me (we have a hotline here for such issues).

But I suppose it was because I was "functioning".

I got my work done. On time. The work was still done well.

Sure, my personality had completely changed, I didn't care about anything, I was barely recognizable, and  on occasion got into yelling matches with my supervisor in open office space, but... I was functioning, so I must be fine, right?

Wrong.

I was not fine. Not even close.

Functioning does not mean okay.

You know, one of my co-workers recently battled cancer. He never stopped working. Sure, he took off here & there for doctors' appointments, called in when he was overwhelmed by the chemo & radiation treatments, and was more emotional than usual.

But he was still functioning.

In fact, he didn't want pity, so he only told three of us about his illness. The rest don't even know. That's how well he functioned.

Since he was functioning, he must've been fine, right?

Wrong.

Here's the truth about me:

I remember not wanting to move. I remember hearing Jena cry and not wanting to get up. I remember not feeling like I could get up. I remember not feeling anything. I remember thinking that I should feel more sympathetic towards this little being who was depending on me to feed her, change her diaper, and hold her.

But I didn't feel that way. I didn't want to do it.

But... for me... there was still a voice in my head saying "you're her mom, get up and do it". And so I did.

Even when I didn't want to. Even when I felt nothing. Even when inside I really could have cared less that she was hungry and lying in a poopy diaper.

I felt nothing. I didn't feel like I cared at all.

But I was her mom. So I did it.

Something inside of me compelled me to take care of her, even when the rest of me wanted to lie in bed all day long.

Sometimes I think she saved me from experiencing the depths of depression, because she was my only motivation for getting up, for moving, for existing outside of my bed / couch / wherever I happened to have ended up.

I don't know why that compulsion forced me to get up and take care of her, but others just can't will themselves out of bed.

I don't know.

The only answer I have is that PPD, while there are similarities, affects each of us differently.

And I know that approximately 15% of pregnant women in this country will end up with Post Partum Depression. If you include PP-PTSD, PP-Anxiety, PP-OCD, the statistic rises. And of course, that statistic only includes those who self-reported or received help in the first place.

Fifteen percent. Fifteen out of 100. Three out of 20. Nearly one in seven women will suffer from PPD following their pregnancies.

I want to talk about it, because I want other moms to be able to talk about it.

I want to talk about it, because I want to find a way to help that mom get out of bed to tend to her child.

I want to talk about it, because it needs to be talked about.

Because moms (and husbands, and family members, and friends, and co-workers) need to understand that just because she's functioning, doesn't mean she's fine.

Yeah. I wanna talk about Post Partum Depression.

Tools (or on my OCD tendencies)

First of all, let me be clear that I have never been diagnosed with OCD, nor am I really sure that the tendencies that I have would even be classified as OCD, but that's what I call them, and that's what I've been told by others, so until I get another explanation, there ya go.

I've always enjoyed a good list. To do lists are my forte. At work, I'm known for "the list". At home, I have a chore list, a grocery list, a meal planning calendar, a daycare planning calendar, expense tracking worksheets, and even gift giving lists. All tracked on Excel.

Oh, how I love Microsoft Excel.

They all started innocently enough. Other than the To Do List (which I've used since I was way younger than anyone should use To Do Lists), they all came about after Jena was born, as tools to help me manage what seemed like an overwhelming amount of responsibility.

I love a list. I believe lists can be invaluable tools.

And I've been thinking a lot about tools lately.

You see, a few months ago, on a Friday, I had brought my chore list to work for some reason. When I left that evening, I accidentally left it on my desk. I remembered just as I pulled in the driveway.

And nearly had an anxiety attack.

I mean, how would I know what chores to do if I don't have my list?!? How will I know what needs to be done?!?

My list, it's organized by regular chores & special one-time chores. It's a matrix in order by date-last-completed, so I know exactly how long it's been since I've done what. I check them off as I go. It tells me what to do next.

And here I was, on a weekend where Jason wasn't gonna be home, and I would have all kinds of time to get housework done, and I didn't have my list.

I can't explain to you the kind of panic that set in. I can also tell you that I knew exactly how crazy that sounded. But it didn't change anything. I was completely hobbled without that list. I think I did manage to put one load of laundry in that Friday night, and Saturday morning I took Jena and drove to my office to get the List.

And yes, I knew exactly how crazy that was. But it didn't change the fact that I needed that list.

And I've been thinking about tools ever since.

Okay, not like constantly ever since, but... you get the idea.

And then, a few weeks ago... I did a load of laundry, and didn't check it off on the list. And unlike my usual remember-within-a few-minutes-and-run-to-the-kitchen-to-mark-it-off, I didn't even remember until the next morning.

I can't tell you how big that moment was, when I realized that I wasn't having anxiety over not recording the fact that I did a load of laundry.

Yes, I know exactly how crazy that sounds.

I never did check that load of laundry off.

I did check off the next load. And the next. And various other chores.

But it was different. I felt different.

I felt... like I was on the edge of something big. I was either going to have a breakthrough, or a breakdown. And in those moments, it felt like it could go either way.

Next thing I know, we needed groceries. But I didn't have time to get my grocery list together. You know, put it together in Excel, in order by aisle, look thru my paper coupons & mark the list accordingly, look for online coupons & mark the list accordingly, check the flier for discounts & mark the list accordingly... it takes time, and I hadn't had time to do it yet. But we needed food.

So I went grocery shopping.

Without a grocery list.

Without one single coupon.

Without knowing what was on sale.

There was something liberating about that trip to Kroger.

Like, really, actually freeing.

I felt free.

I was lucky enough to be by myself, and I dawdled in each aisle, perusing items & prices for what my family would want versus what was reasonably priced. It was probably the least draining shopping trip I've ever had. I dare say I felt energized leaving that store.

And I haven't marked a single chore off my chore list ever since.

Now, granted, there are times when I worry that I've missed a chore, when our house is a mess and I think "maybe I really did need that list".

And then I remember that our house was a mess before, and maybe it's a teeny tiny bit messier than before, but... if so, not by enough to really notice.

I can see when the hamper is full and laundry needs to be done. Or the sink is full and dishes need to be done. Or the garbage is full & needs to be taken out.

Mental note: clean the bathroom.

Why? because it needs it

It's not that I didn't see these things before, it's that I was handicapped by the very tools I created to help me. Or rather I was handicapped by my dependence on these lists.

Example? Sure.

Let's say the living room floor is dirty.

my reaction then: "yuck. The floor is dirty. I need to do laundry so we have clothes to wear, and then if I have time, I can probably do one or two more chores. But I can't sweep the floor until I straighten the living room and pick up toys & things. I'll have to see if anything is higher on the list than "straighten the living room" and "sweep floors"."

my reaction now: "yuck. The floor is dirty. I need to do laundry first so we have clothes to wear, but then I should have time to do one or two more chores. Maybe tonight I'll pick up the living room & sweep the floor."

See the difference? Of course you do.

Tools.

I'm thankful for my lists. I think when I started using them, when I was truly overwhelmed, when I was fighting PPD, when I was struggling with so many issues, I needed them. I needed tools to help me handle the everyday tasks that others take for granted.

Tools are great like that. Tools are meant to be used when one is lacking in the ability to complete the task by themselves.

Think about it. I mean, if you could hammer in a nail with your bare hand... would you ever buy a hammer? Probably not. You need the tool.

But somewhere along the way, my tools became my crutch.

I am better now. I am stronger. I am healed.

I am not perfect. Far, far from it. But I am ready to stop depending on my tools, and start depending on myself.

I am free.

Right now, I am not using any of my lists or calendars for home. None of them. I may reinstate one or more of them in the future (after all, I am a little concerned I'll forget to buy laundry detergent on my next grocery trip), but for now... I'm content to toddle into the world, finding my way again, figuring out how I'm gonna do this, how am I gonna manage these tasks. I'm happy to be in a new phase of home management, redefining how I will manage my home. I will make mistakes along the way, I am sure, but I also feel quite confident that in the end I will be doing a better job than I ever was before.

As always, thanks for checking in.

so this is what balace feels like

I like it.

Our family finally feels balanced. For probably the first time since Jena was born.

Don't get me wrong, part of me hates putting it that way, because it sounds like we're blaming her or something, but that is totally not the case.

It's just that we had a harder-than-most time adjusting to the change in our lives, didn't always react to the change or each other properly, fought thru the mire of PPD, still dealing with PP-PTSD, went thru a few personal & family crises, rustled up a fair amount of marital issues, and... were just incredibly unbalanced, pretty much from the beginning.

Until now.

Jason & I had this discussion a few weeks ago, how peaceful our home is, how serene we are individually, how balanced we both feel.

And it's not just me.

a.k.a. - I'm not the only one that was going crazy.

He openly talked about how he feels the difference as well, and the word balance just kept creeping into our conversation.

I've made a conscious effort to tame the crazy by being still more often. And while the housework at times suffers more than it did in the past, the truth is not by much, and not by enough to off-set the positive changes that this has bestowed upon me and my family. A calmer mommy, more time to really be with each other... balance.

Jason cut back a little on his volunteering, took over one of the household responsibilities that I was previously doing, made some other personal changes that I won't go into here, and has been helping out more with Jena. Balance.

Jena, well, she's just awesome as is, and her harmony in life tends to feed off of what's going on in her parents' lives, so... balanced.

This balancing act though, it's a process. Jason picks up some overtime to ease our financial burden... we re-adjust. I pick up an activity in the hopes it will ease our financial burden... we re-equalize. Holidays come along, our schedule gets over-burdened... we level it up. Balance.

I've been tempted to get back to volunteering again, get back to some community activities, something I gave up in the months after Jena was born in an effort to keep from being too overwhelmed by obligations. But... not yet. This being balanced thing is new for our family, and I'm not rocking the boat just yet.

Balance. It may be an ongoing process, but it sure does feel good when you get there.

PPD / PTSD update

I recently had a reader email me and ask how I was doing with regards to PPD now.

Well, I believe my struggle with PPD is over. Although now that my life is finally beginning to settle, drama is subsiding, really for the first time in over three years, I am beginning to notice that I seem to be a little more prone to low spots than I recall being before my struggle with PPD.

Could this be a lingering effect of the PPD? Could the PPD have triggered the same depression and anxiety issues that other members of my family suffer from? Could it be PTSD related? Could it be a lingering effect related to the multiple chemical and hormonal changes my body has gone thru over the past few years?

I'm gonna say the answer is probably yes and no... to all of them. I think the answer is probably far too complicated to say that it's any one of those things, or that it's not any one of those things.

I will refrain from saying my "low spots" are depression, because the truth is they don't usually last very long - maybe a day or so, if that. But they are very low, and tend to come on very suddenly, often without warning, and sometimes without cause. It's a fight to convince myself to do anything but sit on the couch or lie in bed.

Well, not really. Because I have Jena.

But honestly, if I didn't have her to take care of...

Just thought of it while I typed those last two lines, but maybe the reason they don't last so long is because of Jena, because I don't give in to them because I'm taking care of her, so I don't linger in it. I take care of her, and she makes me smile and makes me laugh and reminds me of how grateful I am for her, and... how can you be low very long when you have that, right?

The "without cause" thing is the most confusing. For me and my loved ones. Because they can see how down I am, and the "what happened?" questions inevitably follow, and of course no one understands that nothing happened, and that I really, honestly, truly mean that. Nothing happened. Nobody was mean to me, I didn't have a bad day.

I can't explain it. I wish I could. I'm assuming what "happened" is there was some shift in the chemicals in my brain. That's probably what happened.

But these low spots don't come very frequently. Once every couple of months or so. And like I said they don't last very long. And since my life is just now stabilizing, I'm hopeful that maybe they will eventually get less & less frequent, or maybe even finally go away.

As far as the PP-PTSD, now that Jena's birthday has passed, my flashbacks have pretty much ceased. Although for some crazy reason earlier this week I was drawn to visit the website of the hospital where I delivered, specifically the maternity ward section, and just seeing the pictures of the room stirred all kinds of feelings in me.

I could feel the pain again, feel the uncomfortableness of the beds, the curiousness of not fully knowing how much time is passing... just seeing that tiny web pic brought it all back.

I've wondered many times... if Jason & I ever do decide to have more children... what am I gonna do? I've said before (this is all hypothetical) that I think I should begin counseling probably as soon as we find out I'm pregnant. Because I can tell you right now there will be quite a bit of anxiety as we near labor & delivery, especially considering we would most likely be delivering at the same hospital.

I have to have the same Ob deliver me again. Which would so probably not happen, considering it's a group practice and it's a crapshoot as to who's on rotation. But I firmly believe he saved my life, and probably Jena's. As I've dreamed of having another child, the idea of not getting him nearly throws me into an anxiety attack.

Oh yes, I'm all kinds of crazy.

Lots & lots of therapy should I ever get pregnant again. Lots.

Or maybe as more time passes, things will settle down. Maybe.

So, that's where I am right now, so you know.

Although things have definitely settled, tons, I mean, tons... there are still residual effects of the illness. I don't know if they will ever go away.

I don't know if I want them to go totally away.

I think the experience has made me much more sensitive and understanding to the trials that others are going through, and how every experience effects everyone differently. In short, although I'm still learning, still figuring things out, I'm starting to see that PPD and PP-PTSD have widened my world to the struggles of others, have broadened my perspectives, have made me more sympathetic towards others.

Yes, I'm starting to see that PPD and PP-PTSD have made me a better person.

As always, thanks for checking in!

PPD related: Yeah, I recognize(d) this in me

I came across this posting a while back about indecisiveness as a symptom of PPD.

It struck a chord.

I can be indecisive at times anyway, but I distinctly remember... not caring, not knowing, wanting, but not wanting, probably being a general pain in the butt to those around me.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), I also seem to remember being weak enough mentally & emotionally that, at least for a while, I just let everyone rule my life, accepted decisions, did as I was told.

It was enough for me just to make it thru the day. Making a decision and get thru the day? Geez! What more do you want from me?!?

I was fortunate enough to have those around me, mainly my husband and my mother, who I think saw this in me. Maybe they didn't realize it at the time, but they acted just how I needed them to... they told me what to do.

Sometimes I didn't like it. Sometimes I cried over it. Sometimes, it didn't seem fair. And sometimes I felt like I was losing control (duh, like I was in control anyway, right?)

Example? Sure. I only saw my Ob for PPD because my mommy told me to. I didn't think I had a problem. I thought it was normal "baby blues". But I was unable to make a decision, so mommy told me to make an appointment? Okay, I'll make an appointment.

See... sometimes it's a good things for others to take the reins in your life. As long as they are doing so with love, because there is a real need... this is why we need loved ones in our lives whom we trust. Because for each one of us there comes a time when we find ourselves relying on someone else, whether we realize it at the time or not.

Mostly... it was what I needed to happen, what our family needed to happen, so we could all get thru this period of time.

It's all a healing process, and reading that post, even now, nearly three years later, serves me. I didn't know why I was that way, other than that I knew I was weak in those moments. I had no idea that it could be a sign of PPD. No idea at all.

I didn't find that blog until after my treatment for PPD was through. But I still check it regularly. I love it because it's not your run-of-the-mill site, listing "usual" symptoms, telling you to talk to your Ob if you suspect you have it. It's written by real women, has links to real help, and resources for real families - all who have personal experience with Post Partum Depression.

How I finally figured out I had Post Partum PTSD

I mentioned in my first PPD / PP PTSD post that while I had a doctor's diagnosis of PPD, I also eventually diagnosed myself with PP PTSD.

This took a while to figure out, because the primary symptom that I was experiencing, well, kept me from being able to know, being able to tell my obstetrician when I was seen for PPD at 4 weeks post partum.

You see, have huge gaping holes in my memory, primarily from the two days I was in labor, but also from the next few days in the hospital, and even in the months that followed.

I know, the reaction I usually get is "yeah, I forget a lot of stuff now that I'm older too", but... this is different. And I know it's very difficult to understand if you've never experienced it.

So, the day after Jena was born, I started hearing stories of things that happened during my labor. And I didn't remember any of them. By "didn't remember", I mean it didn't even sound familiar, and as far as I was concerned the person could have been making them up. We're talking things that I did, conversations that I had, major events that one should remember.

Of the 36 hours I was in labor, I can piece together maybe a grand total of 4 hours.

Even after looking at pictures, talking to Jason & my mother, hearing the stories over & over... well, it's just like hearing a story. As far as my mind is concerned, it never happened.

Except that it did.

I didn't realize the seriousness of it until one day, months after Jena was born, when I said something to Jason about how I couldn't believe they allowed me to make decisions, that I decided to forego the C-section, that I consented to the forceps delivery, etc, etc, etc. The list goes on & on. I told him that since I don't remember even having these conversations, I obviously was not in my right mind, and it was irresponsible of them to allow me to make those decisions, they should have had him, as my next of kin, be the one to make them.

I still remember the way he stared at me when I said that. And then he explained. There was no sign that anything was wrong, mentally. I was completely lucid, appeared clear of thought. I spoke clearly, I participated in conversations, I asked questions.

I was dumbfounded.

That was the moment that I realized it was more than me blocking some things out because of the pain I was in. More than just a defense mechanism.

I carried on clear, lucid conversations, made major medical decisions, and I remember none of it. Never did. Next day, it was like it never happened. For me.

There are huge gaps in my memory. There are numerous things from the first days of Jena's life that I only know because other people have told me, or because I've seen a picture.

As far as my mind is concerned, it's like they never even happened.

I can't stress that enough. It's not like when someone's telling you a story from your past, and you're like "I don't really remember, but it does kinda sound familiar, maybe", where there's at least the hint of knowledge of the event.

It's like it never even happened.

It's like someone is telling you a story about something you did, something in which you are the main character, and you are racking your brain to remember, but it doesn't even sound familiar at all, and then the person laughs and says "oh wait, that wasn't you! that was so-and-so! ha ha ha!"

Except it was you.
And then there are the flashbacks.

Last year, right about this time, a couple of months before Jena's 2nd birthday, I started having flashbacks to labor & delivery.

At the time, I thought it was the first occurrence of flashbacks. Until last month, when I stumbled across this post from 2009, where I talk about flashing back to my birthing experience and dealing with the trauma of it all.

I'd forgotten about my flashbacks.

Again, as if they'd never happened. How crazy is that?

So when there was no explanation for the memory loss & flashbacks, where else to turn, but Google?

And without fail, Google kept returning results of PTSD. Which made no sense to me, especially since not one of those sites mentioned giving birth, even a traumatic birthing experience, as a possible cause (although a few did mention "medical complications" as a cause).

I searched the internet for probably two months, looking for answers.

It was finally on another blog that I found talk of Post Partum PTSD.

And I cried.

There is something about feeling utterly alone, as if no one understands what you are going through that is... defeating, isolating, scary. So when you finally find that someone, anyone, knows what you're going thru... there is relief. An overwhelming sense of relief, a sense of not being alone, not being so scared, and not being so defeated.

I cried at not being alone in this anymore. I cried because someone else understood. I cried with relief.

And that, my dear readers, is one of the reasons that I write about everything that I do on this blog. Especially this. Because I know what it feels like to feel like you are the only one who possibly knows what you are going through. But I also know that we are on this journey together and someone else out there has experienced, or is experiencing, the same things I am. Or pretty darn close anyway.

And whether I get that sense of community, of not-being-aloneness, from them, or they get it from me... I believe it is good that we share what we have been through, what we are going through. There is strength in sharing. For ourselves. And for others.

Thanks for checking in.

Post Partum Depression (PPD) / Post Partum PTSD

Way back in May I just kinda slipped in a mention that I was thinking about writing more about my struggles with PPD.

It's something I've thought about. A. Lot.

I've talked with a few of my blog followers, one or two of which said they wish they could know more of my story. I've read posts of other bloggers who are struggling with PPD. I've read posts of other bloggers who I've suspected of struggling with PPD.

I think my hesitation is because... I don't really know what to say. I mean, clearly, if you've been following me very long at all, you've come to realize that I don't have many answers. To anything.

But maybe the "answer" is simply in being able to share in the experience, to know that you are not alone, that you aren't "weird", that someone understand's what you are going thru, as much as anyone can.

To know that PPD and PP-PTSD are real things. That you are not imagining your symptoms. That there is nothing wrong with you, but that it is simply your body's (including your mind's) reaction to a life-changing, body-changing event.

Here is a brief, undetailed synopsis of my story:

Following an uneventful & healthy pregnancy, I had a traumatic labor & delivery experience, followed by complications that left me hospitalized for three additional days, as well as an intensely difficult recovery period at home.

I was diagnosed with Post Partum Depression (PPD) at about four weeks post-partum.

Although the diagnosis fit and treatment (primarily medication) helped, I always felt like there were things that weren't being addressed. Of course, some of this was due to the fact that at the time of my diagnosis, I was not aware of them (details will come in later posts).

Being trained in the filed of History, and having studied wars, I knew that some of what I was experiencing seemed to sound a lot like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD, formerly known as "shell shock"), but also didn't think that made much sense, and I couldn't find any information on women suffering from PTSD following giving birth.

At about two years post-partum, after having multiple flashbacks to my L&D experience, and spending weeks researching PTSD, I finally came across a few (very few) sites acknowledging the existence of Post Partum-PTSD.

After reading everything I could find, I made a self diagnosis of PP-PTSD.

I realize this is a general introduction to the subject and how it affected me and my life, but I promise you details will follow in other posts.

The journey is long, and ongoing.

I don't claim to be an expert on the subject, but I will gladly share my experience with you.

Thanks for checking in.