Grief, hope, healing.
It's the new tagline for my blog, the tagline I've been meaning to change to for a while now. But there are so many things I want to change that I put it all off.
At any rate, whether you're grieving or you're just sad and you don't know why, or even if you have postpartum depression but with other symptoms and you don't feel particularly sad (it's a thing) -- I want to give you tools for your mental health, I want to offer hope and come alongside you as you begin to heal.
I want to let you know that I've been there, and it gets better. No, I haven't been exactly where you've been; every body, every situation, every relationship and grief, is individual, unique. I certainly may not have had it as bad as you either, but I want to offer you what I have. Some tools I use may not work for you, but I hope some of it will be helpful. I want to offer you the life-giving, the lifelines that have been given to me.
"Pick what you like, then see how it grows."
Parenting three littles while depressed is probably the hardest thing I've ever done. A little after I was coming out of it a stomach bug went around our family, and I can tell you that a normal day while depressed is harder than a day cleaning up vomit and diarrhea without depression. Definitely, no doubt in my mind. #StillEasierThanPPD
But it does get better, it can, with some mysterious and magical mix of time, hard work, and grace upon grace upon grace.
Let me tell you my story, in hopes that my having been there will be encouraging to you. (The beginning of my story anyway, so I don't put off posting it for forever. Let's ban perfectionism!)
When I had my first baby in late 2012 I had a history with depression, and there were other stressful things going on at the time, so I was prepared to get PPD. I had some complications, and a difficult induction, compounding my risks. But I also had some lovely support around me, and I was pleasantly surprised to not become depressed. Just the normal stresses and ups and downs of new parenthood, nothing crazy.
I miscarried my second baby, in spring 2014. As I've written in my "Waiting to Miscarry" essay in Not Alone
, it was a missed miscarriage, where my body took a few weeks to realize the baby's heart had stopped beating and actually miscarry. It was fairly early, but the whole thing was a long, drawn-out ordeal, from the heart stopping to the miscarriage to the ER to my D&C for retained clotting. And then we moved a thousand miles.
My doctor's office had a lot of pamphlets and info about PPD for my first pregnancy, but they didn't give me anything after the miscarriage. I had to figure it out on my own.
My emotions, hormones, and body were all pretty messed up afterwards, so there was some desperate searching online for answers, and I found that PPD is even more likely after miscarriage than after a healthy birth. I was able to find a therapist, and writing "Waiting to Miscarry" helped me process some of the emotions.
But there are a couple memories that stand out from that time. One is pushing my toddler on a swing on gorgeous sunny Oregon days that spring and summer, near the house we lived in for a couple months after moving. It was so lovely in so many ways that it often broke down what defenses I had and made me feel even sadder, although with some happiness and gratitude simultaneously. It felt like there was a deep, deep pit inside me, and my smiles at my adorable toddler were completely genuine, but they were like a thin layer of branches, grass, and leaves over the pit.
The other memory, or group of memories, is of the following winter. It was my first winter living somewhere where it freezes, because I'm from southern California, and though I've gone on trips to the mountains when it snowed before, I had never lived long-term in freezing temperatures.
It was absolutely beautiful. We got a lot of frost that winter, not a lot of snow. I tagged along on a retreat my husband went on for work, where we stayed in a resort in the Columbia River Gorge, and it was postcard perfection in so many ways, a gift I was beyond grateful for.
So I remember it as a healing winter, but also as painful, just like pushing my toddler on the swing. Lots of intense emotions.
Eventually I got sort of better, but it was a very slow and gradual process. I got pregnant again, in early 2015, which I suppose was still in the middle of that "healing winter." My brain chemistry seems to like being pregnant, but the rest of my body doesn't! Most of that pregnancy I spent in sort of a low-grade, blah depression. There wasn't a pit anymore, and I'd already grieved and processed my miscarriage to a large extent -- something I found out when my main fear had to do with living through the difficult complications again.
But with my miscarriage I'd had morning sickness for a little while longer after I found out the heart had stopped, and that made morning sickness hard. Things were kind of okay for a little while after that, or at least less bad, but then I did indeed have the main complication again, much earlier this time, and it made it extremely difficult physically to sleep, so by the time I had my baby I was working off of weeks and weeks of sleep deprivation, to the point that having a new baby was a relief, I got more sleep with her out of my body.
Despite that, the medically necessary induction at 37 weeks went a lot better this time, and it was a somewhat healing experience.
I think, with a healthy birth instead of a miscarriage, and with a much better labor experience, again I wasn't really expecting to get PPD.
And it was different this time. I started imploding with rage -- not at my baby, but at my toddler. I had horrible mood swings, and didn't relate to other warrior mamas' accounts where they felt sad and hopeless day after day after day -- I had really good days sometimes, but other days where I texted my husband I was having a nervous breakdown, he'd come home early from work, and I'd literally hide under my covers, crying and thinking that I just could not take this. In my head I guess I knew it would pass every time, but tomorrow or the next day could not come soon enough, I had no objectivity, every mood, up or down, felt like forever, like the sum total of who I was.
It's hard to remember for sure whether that bout with PPD was better, worse, or the same as the latest one, after my fourth pregnancy, because I didn't have some of the vocabulary for it then that I do now. As far as I can remember on my bad days or Rage Days, I probably did have some suicidal thinking, I just didn't think of it in those terms, since I didn't have a plan and knew I wasn't going to actually do it.
I also had a really hard postpartum recovery physically, and had chronic health issues during 2016, until I got pregnant again!
I'm grateful I already knew from my reading online that rage was a potential PPD symptom, so I felt a little less like I was going crazy, though I still felt pretty helpless and out of control. I went back to my therapist during that second time with PPD, and I came across an article and then a book
about Complex PTSD by Pete Walker, which helped me make sense of some of my mood swings and suicidal ideation. It gave me a framework and tools, but still, the days when my hormones and my C-PTSD triggers combined and conspired against me? That felt like hell.
And then my therapist retired. He gave me some leads to find a new therapist, but it took me a long time to follow through and then to ask a friend for any recommendations and to find my current therapist, who is awesome and a lifesaver.
Between my initial call to ask about being taken on as a new patient and a follow-up call to schedule our first visit, I found out I was pregnant. This is early 2017 now. I knew that the hormones would probably help level out my mood swings and make me feel better again, but I was also kind of terrified! I'd wanted to have another baby someday, but didn't feel ready to deal with pregnancy complications and the postpartum recovery again, especially with both the PPD and the chronic health issues I'd been having.
Fortunately I was right, I soon felt much better, and my therapist and I started to get to know each other and work through some of my issues.
Then I had the 20-week anatomy scan, and found out that some of my baby's organs were not in the usual places, which could mean she'd have major health problems, or she could be fine. I started to have recurring low days again, but... in a healthy way, I guess? As my therapist said, she'd be more worried if I weren't crying. It was a time of waiting, though we kept getting good news, about one thing or another that didn't look as bad as they'd initially thought. Her organs were still not in the usual places, and there were still things we wouldn't find out until she was born. I had a consult with a neonatalogist and was told a NICU team would stand by at her birth, and best-case scenario, she'd stay in the NICU for a little while just for testing.
And that's where I leave off this week, because life. But I think there isn't a ton more to tell, and I'll pick it up again as soon as I can.
[Part 2 is up now.]
Parenting three littles while depressed is probably the hardest thing I've ever done. A little after I was coming out of it a stomach bug went around our family, and I can tell you that a normal day while depressed is harder than a day cleaning up vomit and diarrhea without depression. Definitely, no doubt in my mind. #StillEasierThanPPD
But it does get better, it can, with some mysterious and magical mix of time, hard work, and grace upon grace upon grace.
Let me tell you my story, in hopes that my having been there will be encouraging to you. (The beginning of my story anyway, so I don't put off posting it for forever. Let's ban perfectionism!)
When I had my first baby in late 2012 I had a history with depression, and there were other stressful things going on at the time, so I was prepared to get PPD. I had some complications, and a difficult induction, compounding my risks. But I also had some lovely support around me, and I was pleasantly surprised to not become depressed. Just the normal stresses and ups and downs of new parenthood, nothing crazy.
I miscarried my second baby, in spring 2014. As I've written in my "Waiting to Miscarry" essay in Not Alone
, it was a missed miscarriage, where my body took a few weeks to realize the baby's heart had stopped beating and actually miscarry. It was fairly early, but the whole thing was a long, drawn-out ordeal, from the heart stopping to the miscarriage to the ER to my D&C for retained clotting. And then we moved a thousand miles.My doctor's office had a lot of pamphlets and info about PPD for my first pregnancy, but they didn't give me anything after the miscarriage. I had to figure it out on my own.
My emotions, hormones, and body were all pretty messed up afterwards, so there was some desperate searching online for answers, and I found that PPD is even more likely after miscarriage than after a healthy birth. I was able to find a therapist, and writing "Waiting to Miscarry" helped me process some of the emotions.
But there are a couple memories that stand out from that time. One is pushing my toddler on a swing on gorgeous sunny Oregon days that spring and summer, near the house we lived in for a couple months after moving. It was so lovely in so many ways that it often broke down what defenses I had and made me feel even sadder, although with some happiness and gratitude simultaneously. It felt like there was a deep, deep pit inside me, and my smiles at my adorable toddler were completely genuine, but they were like a thin layer of branches, grass, and leaves over the pit.
The other memory, or group of memories, is of the following winter. It was my first winter living somewhere where it freezes, because I'm from southern California, and though I've gone on trips to the mountains when it snowed before, I had never lived long-term in freezing temperatures.
It was absolutely beautiful. We got a lot of frost that winter, not a lot of snow. I tagged along on a retreat my husband went on for work, where we stayed in a resort in the Columbia River Gorge, and it was postcard perfection in so many ways, a gift I was beyond grateful for.
So I remember it as a healing winter, but also as painful, just like pushing my toddler on the swing. Lots of intense emotions.
Eventually I got sort of better, but it was a very slow and gradual process. I got pregnant again, in early 2015, which I suppose was still in the middle of that "healing winter." My brain chemistry seems to like being pregnant, but the rest of my body doesn't! Most of that pregnancy I spent in sort of a low-grade, blah depression. There wasn't a pit anymore, and I'd already grieved and processed my miscarriage to a large extent -- something I found out when my main fear had to do with living through the difficult complications again.
But with my miscarriage I'd had morning sickness for a little while longer after I found out the heart had stopped, and that made morning sickness hard. Things were kind of okay for a little while after that, or at least less bad, but then I did indeed have the main complication again, much earlier this time, and it made it extremely difficult physically to sleep, so by the time I had my baby I was working off of weeks and weeks of sleep deprivation, to the point that having a new baby was a relief, I got more sleep with her out of my body.
Despite that, the medically necessary induction at 37 weeks went a lot better this time, and it was a somewhat healing experience.
I think, with a healthy birth instead of a miscarriage, and with a much better labor experience, again I wasn't really expecting to get PPD.
And it was different this time. I started imploding with rage -- not at my baby, but at my toddler. I had horrible mood swings, and didn't relate to other warrior mamas' accounts where they felt sad and hopeless day after day after day -- I had really good days sometimes, but other days where I texted my husband I was having a nervous breakdown, he'd come home early from work, and I'd literally hide under my covers, crying and thinking that I just could not take this. In my head I guess I knew it would pass every time, but tomorrow or the next day could not come soon enough, I had no objectivity, every mood, up or down, felt like forever, like the sum total of who I was.
 |
| A beautiful day, but with a storm rolling in. Sounds about right. |
It's hard to remember for sure whether that bout with PPD was better, worse, or the same as the latest one, after my fourth pregnancy, because I didn't have some of the vocabulary for it then that I do now. As far as I can remember on my bad days or Rage Days, I probably did have some suicidal thinking, I just didn't think of it in those terms, since I didn't have a plan and knew I wasn't going to actually do it.
I also had a really hard postpartum recovery physically, and had chronic health issues during 2016, until I got pregnant again!
I'm grateful I already knew from my reading online that rage was a potential PPD symptom, so I felt a little less like I was going crazy, though I still felt pretty helpless and out of control. I went back to my therapist during that second time with PPD, and I came across an article and then a book
about Complex PTSD by Pete Walker, which helped me make sense of some of my mood swings and suicidal ideation. It gave me a framework and tools, but still, the days when my hormones and my C-PTSD triggers combined and conspired against me? That felt like hell.And then my therapist retired. He gave me some leads to find a new therapist, but it took me a long time to follow through and then to ask a friend for any recommendations and to find my current therapist, who is awesome and a lifesaver.
Between my initial call to ask about being taken on as a new patient and a follow-up call to schedule our first visit, I found out I was pregnant. This is early 2017 now. I knew that the hormones would probably help level out my mood swings and make me feel better again, but I was also kind of terrified! I'd wanted to have another baby someday, but didn't feel ready to deal with pregnancy complications and the postpartum recovery again, especially with both the PPD and the chronic health issues I'd been having.
Fortunately I was right, I soon felt much better, and my therapist and I started to get to know each other and work through some of my issues.
Then I had the 20-week anatomy scan, and found out that some of my baby's organs were not in the usual places, which could mean she'd have major health problems, or she could be fine. I started to have recurring low days again, but... in a healthy way, I guess? As my therapist said, she'd be more worried if I weren't crying. It was a time of waiting, though we kept getting good news, about one thing or another that didn't look as bad as they'd initially thought. Her organs were still not in the usual places, and there were still things we wouldn't find out until she was born. I had a consult with a neonatalogist and was told a NICU team would stand by at her birth, and best-case scenario, she'd stay in the NICU for a little while just for testing.
And that's where I leave off this week, because life. But I think there isn't a ton more to tell, and I'll pick it up again as soon as I can.
[Part 2 is up now.]
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