I've been meaning to write this post for a while, but the motivation to get it done just wasn't clicking. Usually when I have a plan to write a particular story I wait until I feel inspired and most of what I want to say has already been written in my head, and if that doesn't happen I skip the story all together and wait for the next inspiration. This one needs to be written, though, whether I feel inspired or not, because I feel that it is important to share.
During my third trimester with Kai I started to feel like a "rage monster", easily stressed, anxious and irritable. I chalked a lot of that up to the state of worldly affairs: political, economic, and social chaos. I asked my OB about it, anyway, and he warned that increased anxiety could mean an increased chance for postpartum depression after the baby was born. Since I hadn't met the threshold to need medication we agreed to keep an eye on how I was feeling and just ride the tide.
The mental and emotional build up to our delivery date was intense. My fear of the looming epidural increased on a daily basis until it almost consumed me. I felt so scared and sick going into the delivery that when things worked out and Kai was finally in my arms, the comparative relief (and drugs) made me feel so high. I was so happy and thankful! I felt euphoric, even. What a difference than how I had been feeling for weeks and months.
Finally getting to hold our sweet girl, to meet her, gaze into her face, love on her felt blissful. I felt good on the day she was born, better the next day, and even better on day three. We were discharged from the hospital, always one of two of my hardest post-delivery times, but I still felt ok. Then day 4 hit and I started to get what I initially called the Baby Blues. I figured the downs were to be expected, I'd experienced them before, but remembered that they would come and go. Only this time they didn't go. Day five was worse than day four, and day six was even worse than day five. I expected one day I'd feel down then the next would be a little better, but this time each day was worse than the last. I started having prolonged sobbing fits, would wake up in the morning with anxiety attacks, my body would involuntarily seize and my skin felt like it had been raked with a cheese grater every time Kai started to cry and it was time to take care of her. By now I realized I was dealing with much more than just a case of the blues...
I talked to my OB who offered Zoloft and Xanax, but previous experience made me hesitant about the first and fear made me wary of the second, though I finally decided to start there. I worked to fine-tune a magical schedule of vitamin supplements and anti-anxiety pills so I could get through each day without maxing out my prescription or over-medicating, but I was still only treating symptoms without fixing the problem. I called my OB back to ask for the anti-depressant and a referral to a counselor. I met with the counselor and sobbed through my entire appointment, realizing that talking wasn't going to bring me the relief I was now desperate for. I wouldn't be returning for a follow-up appointment because I didn't think it would help me as fast as I needed, nor could I afford to continue to pay since they weren't covered by insurance (as my OB said: "taking the mental health out of health care".) The anti-depressant would take a couple of weeks to build up until I noticed the effects, I just had to try to make it through the storm. Mom had to come back to stay with us for several more days, to help take care of me and the baby so Clif wasn't burdened with trying to juggle all of our substantial needs alone. One night my blood pressure was high and I called the on-call OB for guidance. After sobbing on the phone with her she directed me to the ER to make sure I wasn't experiencing toxemia. The ER ran tests, determined there was nothing physically wrong with me and sent me back home, much to my dismay. I couldn't eat or drink (one notable time tearfully begging Clif not to make me drink a glass of water because I just couldn't manage it), barely slept without medicating myself to sleep, didn't want to get out of bed, would finally launch out of bed in a full-blown anxiety attack: panting, heart racing, looking wildly around the room wondering what to do and not having any idea of how to function. I would cry throughout the day, feeling that all I wanted to do was go to the hospital, beg for a room and IV nutrition/fluid/medication. I felt like I was drowning and there was no relief, no one who could help me.
I couldn't get through two weeks without begging for any and all help from everyone I could think of. I could both not imagine how some people suffered in silence for as long as they did, and also understand how people could get to the point of suicidal. Luckily I wasn't shy about stating exactly how I was feeling and I wasn't having any thoughts of harming myself or others, but I understood. It was a terrifying place to be, scared that I would never feel normal again.
Thankfully my support group is substantial and amazing and my medications started working. I slowly started to have good spots in really hard days, I left the house on short trips to get a change of scenery and prove to myself that I could. I started to feel better one moment at a time.
There is no shame in asking for help, whenever you need it for whatever reason. This is something I've believed for a long time, and now believe it even more fervently having gotten through such a difficult time. I know there are people out there that, for whatever reason, feel they have to suffer alone in silence, but that doesn't have to be the case. This journey of becoming a parent has already taught me so much, made me grow in so many ways. It's also made me realize how much I need other people in my life; for comfort, care, love, support, encouragement. I'm learning to be stronger, but also to be ok with asking for and receiving help, which is harder than it sounds. This blog began as a way to document our new life as a growing family, and the downs are just as much a part of that story as the ups.
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