"Help from Houston?" Part 2

As it turned out, Dr. Wheeler (in Houston) had one more thing for me to try before agreeing to take me, as it would mean repeated visits to Texas and back. He had gone to college with a couple of other doctors who now (he was pretty sure) practiced the same kind of medicine in Florida. He passed along their names (All of this information came through his secretary/nurse. I have never actually spoken to him directly. He was having some health problems of his own at the time, and I am lucky that he even gave a second glance to my story!) If this "detour" to recovery would work, then all the better! Something within driving distance that had been there all along? Really?! ("Please let this be it. Please help me find them. God, I can't take another dead end. Please...")

With nothing left to lose, I crossed my fingers and started the online search. I only had names. No other leads. And No luck with finding the first doctor.

So I tried again, and located Doctor Randall Loy, of the Center for Reproductive Medicine, in Orlando. He was my "last hope" and would soon give me just that. Hope. (Really, there is no "last hope" in God's eyes. There is always hope, and it comes from HIM. But I am thankful for the people he disguises himself as!)

The center mostly treats patients who have infertility issues, but Endocrinology also covers the specifics of hormonal imbalances in general. I was not the typical "new patient," but I pushed through the awkwardness of explaining my situation to the nurse, got my paperwork ready and set up my first appointment.

"Help from Houston?" Part 1

By the time my son's first birthday rolled around, I had made significant improvement, but was still experiencing ups and downs that were beyond the level of normal. I had weaned down to just occasional anxiety meds, and was off of all the anti-depressants, but something was just not right, and I kept thinking it must be my hormones. I was not myself, and had noticed a pattern of having a harder time when I was due for a period, and was still not regular. But I had already tried to talk to my gynecologist about that months before, and he just gave me a B.C. prescription which only made me more frustrated! (I was having trouble getting my period back, and he gave me the kind of pill that causes your periods to lessen! He didn't even check my hormone levels, and his nurse acted like I was an idiot in the first place. I voiced a complaint about her and do not plan to return to that office.) Not to mention I was still lactating, too. Something was out of balance and I could feel it. It was like PMS symptoms times ten! Finally, through God's providence, I met someone who heard part of my story and directed me to the website of her good friend's daughter, who had "gone through the same thing." I had heard from several women who had gone through a hard time postpartum, but had never met anyone who's struggle was a true "match" to mine. The closest thing I had heard about was the highly publicized PPD battle of actress/model, Brook Shields, but there were still a lot of differences. I thought I would give it a shot and visit the blog of Sharee Morris, a Texas wife and mom who had gone to extreme measures to get her life back after a year of searching for help before finding an answer. I could not believe what I was reading! At that point it had been a year for me too, (By the time she wrote her blog, it had been another year for her since that first horrible year of her daughter's life and she was on the other side of it.) and I had all but lost hope of a full recovery. I was crossing my fingers that God was shining some new light at the end of a dark tunnel. I was desperate and had been praying for God to make me whole, not just "better." Not just "healing" but complete restoration.*

I e-mailed Sharee right away, and within a day or two, we were talking back and forth on the phone, and I was grateful to have found a friend who truly understood me! That in itself was a breath of fresh air. She was so gracious and supportive, and was willing to do anything in her power to help me find a solution. I followed her blog daily, we kept in touch and I got the information for her doctor, an Endocrinologist who was based in Houston. I e-mailed my story/postpartum medical background to the doc, and spoke with his nurse over the phone about the possibility of coming for some visits. I had tried everything else, I had done all I knew to do. Would I find help in Texas? Would this Doctor have the answer? We penciled in some dates and awaited further contact from his office. I would be able to stay at my new friend's house if I went, and someone had already offered to help pay my way! Little did I know, God had an unexpected "detour" just ahead for me, but it was all connected. Help was closer than I thought...

*The very day I met Gwen Diaz, the bible teacher who directed me to Sharee, Gwen had spoken on this very timely truth! Something I had just been praying about, right down to the very example-story she used to base her lesson on. Found in Mark 5:24-34, it was about the "untouchable woman who touched Jesus." I am so glad I went up to her after that bible study and introduced myself and thanked her for speaking right to my situation. That teaching, our conversation, her connecting me with a friend from another state: coincidence? Not at all. I was getting closer and closer to "Touching Jesus," just like the woman in the bible.

Medical Help Part 4

I continued taking "Paxil" (which replaced Lexapro) every day for about 6 more months, as well as Xanax as needed, but weaned off of "Risperdal" pretty quickly. There was another medication that my psychiatrist prescribed to me, in addition to the others, but after some research, I drew the line after taking one dose. I was already concerned about the combination of drugs I had been taking, and after taking one of the "new" pills, I ended up on the couch of my neighbor's house the rest of the morning, crying, detached and a little loopy. Yes, I needed more help, but no, I did not need more drugs! It was a frustrating process. I felt more and more like it was all "temporary" and "surface" kind of help. Though it was necessary at the time, It didn't get to the root of the problem. But, I was thankful for each "band-aid" that came along to protect me from even deeper damage being done.

By the end of the year (a goal I had set) I was able to wean off of Paxil for good. (And by the way, almost immediately, finally started to lose weight. The medication had caused me to keep most of my extra "baby" weight on, no matter how much I exercised or how healthy I was eating. I have dropped 25 pounds since then! Nothing like an "antidepressant" that makes you fat! Seems a little counter-productive.) I was taking Xanax a lot less often too, and luckily never developed an addiction to it.

Singing In The Rain

Yesterday, I was sitting at my keyboard, which is right in front of my office window, out-looking a neighborhood street and some trees. It was raining, and I had the window open, watching the rain fall, singing, listening. I noticed I could hear birds singing, and saw a few of them flying around, eating from a bird-feeder in my neighbor's yard. God spoke to me through this. I could hear birds singing and the sound of the rain simultaneously! He said "Birds can sing in the Rain." And I am learning to do just that. Birds know that the storm won't last, and it doesn't stop them from being who they are and doing what they do. They just keep on singing. I started writing a new song, and the first few lyrics are:

"Sitting right here at my window seat. I listen to the rain and the birdies sing and I hear

God speak to me. And He says, 'Birds know how to sing...in the rain.' "

I have done more singing lately, both publicly and privately. It is feeling more like home again. Less like a dread or fear to face, and more like an outlet of joy and re-connection to what I did for so many years before my "storm" hit. It is who I am. I am still a bird! I have to keep singing.

(and playing and writing and worshipping...) I called my dear friend and someone I consider a mentor, Lenny LeBlanc, about my song yesterday, and he added that "Birds can fly even with a broken wing." It reminded me of a time, when I was in the dark pit of depression in 2008, when my husband and I were walking around the lake. I looked at a bird that was hopping around on the grass, and one of his wings look injured. I had been praying for God to make me "whole" again, and he whispered a truth to my heart. Just like the little bird, whose wing was injured but "wholly there" (none of it was missing) He showed me that I was still whole, (completely me) too, just broken. If you feel like you can't even function, because of what you are going through, just know that God made you and He will mend you, in His time. It does not change who you are! Don't let your storm steal your song. And keep flying even if your wings feel broken.

"They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles..." Isaiah 40:31

"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.