"Non-Medical" Help, Part 1

 

So, What else have I tried?

Well, Besides medications and trips to the Psychiatrist, Medical Doctor, Gynecologist, and eventually the Endocrinologist, I also logged plenty of miles (and money) going to my Chiropractor/Kinesiologist, the Acupuncturists, the health food store and to counseling sessions. (I have had 2 counselors, not counting my "shrink.") I have also used this experience to educate myself and do everything I can to get better on my own. Things like cutting out caffeine after a certain time of day, over-hauling the types of cosmetic and cleaning products I use (due to chemicals such as Isopropyl Alcohol, which interferes with your hormones) and going through a parasitic "cleanse." (Not to mention being "positive on purpose," wearing colorful clothing, turning lights on, playing upbeat music, etc...) For 6-8 months I took a variety of supplements and alternative medicines, and had to keep a chart of my cycle and basil temperature every morning for part of that time. It seemed like I was always going to some kind of appointment or doing something new to see if it would "work," or at least help. I was desperate, and willing to do just about anything! (And I did.) Thankfully, I did not have to resort to something as extreme as a hysterectomy, as some have had to do.* 

   These days, I am down to 2 doctors (1 conventional, 1 non) who I see far less often, and only have to take 1 medication  and 2 kinds of vitamins/supplements. (A high-quality Multi-Vitamin and Calcium/Magnesium) I run several days a week, and try to maintain a healthy lifestyle (natural foods, very little sugar...) and daily routine. As my friend David suggested-when depression hits, just try to "do the next thing." When you have your day planned out, it is easier to have control over your feelings, instead of letting them take control of your day. And of course, staying connected to God (through prayer/bible reading/meditation, etc) and being part of a supportive community is at the top of the list!   

 Spending 2 months in cooler, calmer Wisconsin this Summer really helped bring some healing, too! I was able to detach from the familiar and breathe in something new. I knew I had made progress when I was able to successfully spend that amount of time away from home (and take care of my son without my parents or other "babysitters" around to help) without taking a single anxiety pill! Not that I didn't have some rough days, but a "rough day" now, is nothing compared to what it used to be. Praise God for progress. (And dark chocolate!)

  

 

*Yes, it happens. PPD is hormonal and real. This thing is no joke, and it's not just "in your head." Sometimes surgery becomes necessary. See my friend Sharee's blog: ayearofsearchingforhelp.blogspot.com to read more.   

 

So, About This blog...

This blog is a long and emotional process of writing and remembering a little bit at a time. Thank you all for your support and encouragement as I tell my story. There are so many pieces involved. It's not like one of those "beginner puzzles." (For ages 3 and under) It is more like one of those huge puzzles, like your grandma puts together, a few tiny pieces at a time. But, in the end, a big, beautiful picture covers the table! So, be patient with me and I will try to be patient with myself, as I slowly but surely put this puzzle together. Sometimes it takes me a few weeks to post something new, but I will keep writing! More to come... 

 

Medical Help PART 3

By late June/early July, I had been back at home for several weeks and still felt unstable, though I had seen a lot of improvement in my ability to function. I was on an "as needed" basis with my therapist, and was trying to improve my health in every way possible. I started running again, was seeing my chiropractor regularly and kept taking my meds. But something was still out of balance and the Lexapro didn't really seem to be "working." I tried to stay positive, but couldn't help how I was feeling. One afternoon, It all caught up to me really badly and I hit a desperate low and needed help right away. Up to this point, I had not been to a "Psychiatrist," but that day I was not going back home until I saw one, even if it meant checking in to the "Ward" at the hospital first. (Sometimes it takes up to 2 months to get in with a Psychiatrist by appointment.) I went to my parents' house, and fell apart on their kitchen floor. I remember talking to someone on the PSI (Postpartum Support International) hotline that day, too. My husband called a couple of places to try and get me in (Mental Health Centers, etc) and there were not a lot of options unless I was "a threat to myself or others." (I'm thinking,"If somebody doesn't let me in I might become a threat!") We ended up going to a place called the Peace River Center. A friend accompanied my husband and I, and I sat down with a staff member trying to explain my situation. She took me seriously, and though I didn't threaten to kill myself, she put me on the list for immediate help. She gave us a few minutes to decide if I wanted to stay there (most likely for the night) until a doctor could see me (or until they could take me to the hospital) or we could go to the hospital on our own, with their reference. (Basically, I was getting "Baker Acted") I had packed a bag just in case. Izzy was with my parents, waiting. My husband was with me, heart-broken and stressed out at the thought of all of this, and I just walked outside for a minute to make a phone call for prayer. Meanwhile, God knew that this was a last resort and that I needed a way out. Within moments, Ian got a phone call from a Psychiatrist's office in Safety Harbor, Florida, and they had a last-minute opening due to a cancellation that day. Unbelievable. God showed up just in time. Early that evening, I met with Doctor Mariana Delgado for the first time, and saw her for several months following. She changed my medications, and I began to wean off of the Lexapro and work my way up to using Paxil and Risperdal instead. She began to keep a record of my visits and progress in her notepad. She asked me questions like, "On a scale from 1-10, what number would you give your anxiety right now?" To which I answered, "Eleven." 

 Still, God's timing was perfect that day. That would be one of many times He would prove his faithfulness to us. He even put a Starbucks right down the road from my new doctor! God loves to show up in the details of our lives. 

Other Babies

Not only did the PPD distance me from my own baby, but I had a resentment about babies/mommies in general because of my experience. Normally, I love babies. I love to hold them, and like to see moms with their kids, and families being together. But I can remember feeling hurt and un-interested in even one of my closest friend's new baby. She would come over and visit with me, and I would watch her playing with her new daughter and I couldn't connect. I didn't want to hold her baby, and I was jealous that she could be so playful with her and I couldn't feel that way toward Israel. Another one of my good friends had her baby just a few weeks after I had Izzy, at the same birthing center, (a little boy) and I felt really out of place being the only "depressed" one of the bunch. PPD isolated me from the normal "new moms" circle, and I hated that. I hated it for my friends, too. I wanted to be there for them. I wanted to bring them meals and cuddle their babies and go out together. But I just didn't feel like it. I just wasn't there yet. It felt like a huge waste of time, like I was missing out on our new journey as moms. I can never get that time back, but thankfully, my friends were very understanding and we are now able to hang out and watch our kids play together. Recently, my sister-in-law had her second baby girl and I was able to hold her, calmly and happily in my arms. I soaked it in, remembering that just over a year ago, I was nowhere near that place. Another small victory!

It also made me wish I could go back to when Izzy was an infant and hold him again.  

"JOURNAL ENTRIES AND EXCERPTS" 1

APRIL 17. 2008:


I am hungry but don't have an appetite. sleep is relief when it comes, until my eyes open again. Simple decisions are hard. Normal life seems huge to me, hard to grasp. Yet I miss it painfully. Progress seems so small and slow, and the "set-back" worry lurks around the corner. I have cried and cried, and tried and tried, with what little is in me. In the resevoir of my spirit, somewhere, deep down is deep water to draw from. I am taking tiny sips of survival, doing what I know to do...all i know to do. Everything is foggy right now, even in my head. I look but don't fully see. Touch, but don't truly feel. This is the disconnect I even feel, and perhaps especially feel with my new baby. (at least in the natural) But I fight the feeling of a disconnect with my God, too. "Yet i will praise." YET...God is my hope, my only hope. I must trust. "whom have I but you?" These are things you sing about, talk about, read about and believe on a certain level, but those beliefs are tested to the core when you are "crushed" and somehow keep breathing, and therefore, keep praising. When the Lord says he is the "lifter of our head," it just sounds like strong encouragement, until you literally can't keep your head above water without his hand picking it up! And then it falls, and He helps you again...and again...and again. But why God, won't you pick ALL of me up and take me out of this dangerous water? My head is tired from the struggle, as is my body, mind and soul. I have never gone through something this hard, or this grueling. I have in mind to run a marathon one day, but if i don't get the chance, I can look back and remember that I have already been through the longest test of endurance...my present trial. I have already run a thousand "marathons" in the last few weeks, that I didn't even "train" for, or so I thought. I would never have expected all of this to happen. I wish I could go back to the beginning, right after Israel was born and erase all of this, be a happy mommy and enjoy the new life I expected. Now, I not only fight to get back to the "new normal" but just the "normal" I already knew is very difficult to get back to. I want to live again! Fully live. Jesus came to give an abundant life. It does not bring him joy to see his daughter wounded in this way. RISE UP LIKE A MIGHTY WARRIOR AND RESCUE ME!!! 
I do not wish to be bitter. I do not want to take steps back anymore. I want to get on with it. enough already! May the healing come! This was not my fault. The enemy will not win. When I come out of this, tested in the fire, I will come out shining like pure gold, under the glory of my Father. God, have your glory!! I cannot carry this burden. I carried the reward for 9 months, and now I carry him in my arms. But not this trial...this affliction...I need it taken. Let me "lay aside this weight" and run freely again, the race you have marked out for me.

How Did I Get Here?

Written 3/7/09

It’s like I went to sleep pregnant, had a horrible nightmare, and when I woke up, I had a baby boy who was already several months old. Now what do I do? I am still trying to get over the nightmare, but suddenly I’m parenting a child. Why did I have to sleep through the transition? I needed time to adjust. I needed to bond with my infant, grow into this, embrace my new role and gracefully step into so many changes. I wanted to make good memories with my husband and our new son. I expected to go through a new process, but not one of personal survival through great pain. Just the normal one of being a new mom. Oh, to trade the former for the latter! How did I get here? I may never understand. But I’m here, and so is my son. He loves me, and will never know the difference.   

Taking Steps

 Almost every week, my counselor sent me home with an "assignment" or some  practical goals or advice to think about. Two of the first things she made me do, were taking Izzy for a walk (by myself) and singing to him."Let him get to know the essence of you." At this point, he was at least a month old, and I had never done either. She wanted me to start to bond with him, even if I didn't feel the connection yet.(Another PPD symptom is not feeling bonded to your new child. It feels like there is a wall between you.) She would also give me journaling exercises,and told me to work on Israel's baby book. Though it wasn't easy, I made myself follow through. The walk was the hardest. Before I got pregnant, I was a dedicated runner, in great shape and loved feeling my feet hit the ground. Now, I was a frightened new Mom, who could barely take a walk. Even so, I loaded Iz into the stroller, put on my shoes and just faked it. I walked him through my parents yard, and then up and down the sidewalk by the highway. We even took a turn on a side street, and that is about the time I began to sing. "You light up my life...you give me hope to carry on..." It was a bittersweet moment. It helped both of us but I still think about how difficult it was when I drive by that sidewalk. As for the baby book, my mom helped me remember a few things to record and Ian helped me stamp Izzy's footprints.