So, this past weekend was Bitty #2's 1st birthday and party. Exciting right? Several friends, family and loved ones were here to help celebrate the special occasion. I can't believe my baby girl is One. I must have said that at least a hundred times and thought it about a thousand. But surrounding the joy and excitement is something much deeper. A hole. A great big deep hole that I don't know when it will be filled, if ever. I have been struggling with PPD this past year, and it has not been something that I talk about often, if at all. It all started a few month after bitty was born. I was a homebody. No big deal right? I just wanted to stay home with my babies. Then my fuse started getting shorter and shorter until I really didn't have much of one at all. I cried, yes I cried, but what postpartum mommy doesn't? I never really felt sad. I mean outside the normal range of human emotion. I loved my family dearly, and never ever did I think to myself that I could possibly be depressed. Post-Partum Depression covers so much more then Depression. I had a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, and thought it was just due to the lack of sleep. But I literally had to FORCE myself out of bed. I didn't have any desire to do much of anything. Laundry and cleaning seemed to be an insurmountable task, and so I just didn't bother. I also lost interest in things I normally love to do. I started seeing how ugly I was being to the people I loved most. Mainly my hubbee and Bitty #1. I would lose it over practically nothing.
So I sought help. Not any easy thing for nurse, mommy, wife, like-to-be-in-control, me. Picking up the phone and calling for an appointment was one of the hardest things I'd done all year. "I don't need help, I can get this under control, there is nothing wrong with me" When I clearly knew there was. Admitting it was a different story. My health care professional recommended some therapy/counseling and a low-dose anti-depressant. Within 2 weeks of starting I felt a big difference. I could get out of bed in the morning, I could tend to house-hold chores, and I might have even smiled a few times. Things were not back to normal, but they were on their way. Over the course of the months, I continued the medication. Close to the beginning of this year, I felt I was ready to try without meds. Colossal failure. Not overnight, but slowly, all of my symptoms crept back into my life. After a huge mental breakdown, I was started back on my prescription. I am now feeling what "normal" is for me right now. I still have a hard time accepting that something is out of my control. I don't know when the end is, or if there will be one at this point. Maybe this is my new normal. Maybe I can be okay with that. I'm not sure. Almost everyday is a struggle to take my pill, but I do it for my family. I know if makes me function at a completely different level. I don't have anything against medications, but as a mom, wife, etc, I want to be fine without medications. I feel like I should be able to control this. I want to be strong enough. Why do I need a pill to be okay?
I take care of people suffering from depression and encourage people on a daily basis to stay compliant with their medications. I know both sides. But why is it so hard to convince myself? I don't know all the answers, all I know is that I am not alone. So many moms suffer from PPD, and so many don't get any help at all. I am still learning and navigating through this, and with bitty #2 birthday come and gone it brings a flood of emotion. I know I will be okay and being strong and in control is doing the right thing, which for me right now is medication. I want to give a shout out to all the other PPD mommies and know that we all can have the strength to do what is right and best for us and our families. It's not easy, but don't be afraid to ask for help.
Stay Tuned for the party post (the GOOD) :) We had a great time, and Bitty#2 did wonderfully!
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