August 3, 2006

I've been debating for awhile whether or not I'd post about this subject. The truth is, it's not easy to talk about. In fact, it's downright embarassing if you are the person going through it and for weeks I've thought to myself, "This is my own, private issue. Why do I need to invite the rest of the world to hear all about it?"

Then, of course, I realized that if I'm going to write a blog that is about me and my family, I'd better be open to putting it all out there. So here it goes.

Postpartum depression.

Depression as a whole gets a bad rap. It's one of those illnesses that you can't see -- nothing is outwardly, physically wrong and nothing will show up on an x-ray, MRI or CT Scan. So, if you can't see it, there's a possibility that it may not exist. Right?

Well, yes, I guess so. But there are zillions of things we can't see but that we know exist. Air, for example. We can't see it, but we're sure it's there.

So then you put a qualifier on depression: Postpartum. What does that mean? That having a baby can make you depressed? Even in the time in your life when you should be the most happy?

Well, yes, I guess so, again.

But, again, it's all about believing even when you can't see it. And the truth is, depression exists. I am here to tell you that postpartum depression exists for sure.

Life here hasn't been peachy keen. I'll start out by saying that I am enormously happy to have my wonderful husband, my precious son and my darling daughters. I always wanted this life and I've got it. I am happy underneath it all.

But this cloud has been hanging over me since the girls were born. It seems that I just can't pull myself out of a funk. If I'm not worried about ridiculously huge medical bills, then I'm concerned about college funds and 529 plans. And if I'm not out driving my mini-van around, then I'm at home wondering why I ever bothered with a college education from SMU.

Sadly, the girls are sometimes a reminder to me of how different life has become. I wouldn't use the word resentment, but I would say that I sometimes mourn the loss of my once-life.

Before the girls got here, life wsa perfect. I had a part-time job for a great company. It gave me a perfect balance of being an educated career woman and a mommy. I made great money, as did Todd, and Devin and I got tons of time together. We were really bonding.

Devin was just getting to the potty-training stage and he was really becoming fun to take places like the zoo or museums or Sea World. Life seemed perfect.

But now, here I am, starting at square one again. Diapers upon diapers. Not really being able to go anywhere. A schedule that changes from day to day (I'm a slave to a schedule and I like things to go in the same order each day). Colic. Sleeping on the couch. Breast pumps and diaper bags just to go next door. Days when I never step foot outside the house.

I thought I was done with those days.

At first, it all seemed fine. I could deal with two kids crying at once and one toddler pulling on my leg. Right?

But as time went on, I noticed I was losing it more and more. I was lashing out at Devin and even grumbling hard words about the girls. What kind of mother was I being? I knew something was wrong, but like I said before, it's an embarassing thing to admit and I wasn't ready to say I needed help.

The past few days have really been what have pushed me over the edge, though. For some reason, I just haven't been able to cope. The constant crying is like nails on a chalkboard. I never get time alone and that makes me irritable. My house is a mess and that makes me jittery. I've taken it out on Todd and have sparked some pretty colorful arguments. I'm mean. I'm nasty. I'm just not the person I want to be. I'm not the person I know I am.

I woke up at 3:00 this morning to feed the girls and as soon as I realized I was awake, I started to cry. Sleep is my only reprieve from this life-that-I-always-wanted-but-somehow-hate and I wasn't asleep anymore. I was having to face it all. Again. I fed the girls through my tears and then paced the downstairs of the house.

I stared at the front door: Should I stay or should I go? Right now, in the dark of night, I could walk out that door and never return. I could walk away from all of this and start over.

I stood for 15 minutes or so between the front door and the staircase and thought about the decision I had to make. Walk out now and never return, or go upstairs, wake up Todd and tell him how I feel.

Needless to say, I went upstairs. In the light of day, I know I would have never walked out the door. But at 4:00 a.m., it was a real possibility.

I woke up Todd and sobbed and sobbed until I was out of tears. I told him everything -- that this is not at all what I expected and that I wanted to walk out the door and never return. I told him that I love my kids with a burning fierceness, but that they're making me miserable. I told him that I feel guilty for all of this and believe that I am not worthy of having such wonderful blessings if I'm just going to turn my nose up at them.

Finally I told him, "I need help."

He cried along with me. You see, Todd suffers from clinical depression, which isn't situational like mine, but rather caused by a chemical imbalance. He knows the depths of sorrow, despair and worthlessness that comes with depression. He commiserated with me on my feelings and my darkest emotions. He was my rock, as he as always been.

So, this morning, I called my doctor and left a message for her nurse, Monica, who I love.

Monica called me back and took my feelings very seriously. She said, "Erin, I know you are busy, but this is serious. Postpartum depression is a very real, very painful thing and untreated, it can do awful things to you. Please don't go another day without coming in. Can you come in today?"

I was going to Yoakum to pick up Devin, but I set an appointment for 8:30 tomorrow morning.

Whew. I said it. Take it or leave it, this is me. Postpartum depression does exist and it can make your life miserable. I have been so reluctant to get help or even talk about it because I thought the world would think less of me.

But then I thought about my friends who have sought help for their own psycological issues and how brave I thought they were for doing so. If they could be brave, I can be brave, too. I owe this to Todd, to me, to my kids and to my family.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Erin

PS - On a completely different note... My cell phone is on the fritz and apparently has been for weeks. It won't charge and on the off-chance that it does, it won't hold the charge. It's also been withholding my messages and I have an untold number of messages waiting for me. If you've left me a message in the last five weeks or so, but I have not returned it, please don't think that it's because I'm ignoring you; it's because I didn't know you called. Try me at home if you need me.