PPD--follow-up

It's been seven and a half months since I started taking antidepressants for my postpartum depression. With the advice of my doctor, I am now completely off the meds, and have been for about two weeks (I went through a weaning off process that took 4 weeks). Thankfully, so far, I have not had a depressive episode. In fact, I was extremely blessed that the small dosage I was on completely stopped all symptoms of my depression. I didn't have to mess with dosages or experiment with brands, and I've been symptom free. I truly have been lucky in this battle.

While I'm not entirely sure I'm in the clear yet, I am optimistic about it. My doctor believes that my odds are very good that the depression will completely go away and not return. I want to believe him, but only time will tell. Since my PPD had a gradual onset, with symptoms appearing slowly at first in intensity and frequency, I won't let my guard down just yet.

I have learned a lot from this trial, and I wanted to document some of my experience. First, and scariest, was learning how completely my depression altered my perception of reality. I couldn't just have a messy house, because I was convinced that anyone who saw it would think I was an absolute slob, and that I would be talked about as "that" person whose house is so nasty that no one wants to go inside or let their children play with my children. I couldn't be out in public with misbehaving kids, because I felt that everyone was watching and criticizing every little misbehavior. On top of that, any non-perfect response from me to their misbehavior would be interpreted as child abuse and I would be reported to the authorities. I couldn't just go to church, because all I could see was our imperfections--my less-than-stellar appearance, my children being too loud, my boys' shirts not perfectly white, and so on--and feel like we were not wanted there. None of these thoughts and feelings were justified--my neighbors and ward members are fantastic, and no one ever said a nasty thing to me at the grocery store or anywhere else. But this was how I saw life, and it was completely the result of my illness.

In addition, I began to see how suicide can actually, truly be seen as a solution to someone suffering from depression. Toward the end (before I finally started taking the meds), I honestly believed my children and husband would have been better off without me, and if I could have found a way to simply disappear from their lives, I would have. It scares me now to think how much I tried to find the perfect suicide--one where they wouldn't have to suffer by finding my lifeless body somewhere. This is what ultimately convinced me to take the medication. I was scaring myself with these thoughts, and I knew this was not at all like me. But, because of my experience, I feel like I have much more compassion for those with mental illness, including those who eventually commit suicide. I understand how these individuals may truly not have been responsible for their decisions, and am confident that a loving Heavenly Father will be able to extend grace to those individuals.

I've also learned the importance of not keeping these feelings to myself. As I began to confide in others, and after publishing my post about my diagnosis, I felt such an outpouring of love and concern from friends, family, neighbors, and acquaintances. I got several messages and emails from people I thought I knew well that had also had PPD, and I had never known. I heard their stories, what their symptoms were, and about their recovery (or not). I wish I had known that I could have turned to these people beforehand, and that I could have had people helping me before my symptoms had gotten so out of control. I'm glad I published my post about PPD, and I've tried to continue talking about it. I don't want someone else to feel like they don't know anyone who's gone through PPD. If you are reading this and feel like you are the only one, please contact me. I'd love to listen and, if you want, talk about my experience. I'd love to offer you hope that there are people who love you and want to help you through this, no matter how long it lasts. I want you to know that you are not broken, or crazy, or permanently damaged. And, above all, there is no shame in seeking medical help. Please, get help before you do something you (or your family) will regret.

I've also learned that sometimes it's okay not to do everything. Sometimes it's okay not to volunteer in your kids' school, and be their coaches, and have an immaculate house, and play three instruments, and have perfect hair and wear make-up, and be on time to church with perfectly behaving kids. Some days, it was all I could handle to make it through church without breaking into tears and leaving early. Some days, I was lucky if I showered before picking up carpool. Some days, it was a success to get out of bed. And I learned to be grateful for what I could do, rather than focusing on the millions of things I didn't do. I've tried hard to encourage others to see this as well--to help us all stop focusing on our perceived imperfections and comparing ourselves to others, but to be grateful for what we can do and to reach for a goal that's reasonable for my situation at that time.

So, while this is a trial I hope to never go through again, and while I will never wish this on anyone else, I can see the blessings that have come to me through this, and for that I am grateful.

Tender mercies

I started getting really stressed tonight about having people over for games (house not cleaned, desserts not made yet, etc.); since stress is one of my triggers for PPD episodes, I canceled game night and did a movie/popcorn night with my babies. After prayers, B2 said, "Mom, it's kinda funny. Earlier you were so mad at us, and now you're so nice." I'm glad I followed through on canceling game night so I could have this time with my kids.

Funny Things B2 Says

Regarding his fishing trip with Grandpa White this summer, B2 said:

"Fishing was a lot of fun. Too bad we only caught seaweed."

PPD

You know those times when you're scrolling through Facebook, and you see an image or a message or a video, and it's like someone might as well have tagged you and said they were posting it for you. Well, that happened to me the other day when I saw this.

[Source]

Hi, my name is Sandy, and I have Postpartum Depression.

Phew. That was hard.

I first saw my doctor back in May, when E was only 2.5 months old. As I described what I had been feeling, and some experiences that frankly had scared me, she said it sure sounded like PPD, but I still clung on to the hope that I was "normal." I got a prescription for an antidepressant, but didn't fill it. Instead, I kept battling, thinking that if I just tried to do X, Y, or Z, that I'd be fine, and it would go away on its own and I'd be back to myself.

A month later, and I wasn't better. I was getting worse, and I was getting more desperate. I filled the prescription, but still didn't take it. Why? Oh, a million reasons. I was worried that the thoughts I was already having about hurting myself would turn into full-blown suicidal attempts (or completion), and that terrified me. I was afraid of the stigma (entirely, and falsely, perceived in my own mind, and not an actual stigma laid upon me by anyone else) of being "mentally ill." I was afraid to admit that I couldn't control my emotions, that I was so "weak" as to need a pill to make me happy. And so on. Yes, my reasons were stupid. As someone with a Masters degree in Psychology, I should know better. I should know that the only "stigma" associated with mental illness comes from ignorant people, not smart people. I should know that medication truly can help. I should know that having PPD is no different than having cancer, or the flu. But for some reason I was holding myself to a different standard, and I was miserable.

Finally, last week, I couldn't take it anymore. I was having depressive episodes several times a week, I was having a very hard time going to church, and on my "happy" days I felt like I couldn't catch up from how little I was able to do on my bad days. And, now, I can even see how much it was hurting my family. My kids were grumpy, my husband was stressed--it was just too much. I took the pill. I've been taking the antidepressant for a week now. Yes, it's probably a little early to know just how well it will work, and how many side effects I'll see, but it truly has made a difference. My husband isn't afraid to open the door, wondering which version of his wife he'll see--the normal, happy one, or the barely functioning one, crying in the bedroom while the kids run amok in the rest of the house. I had the first happy Sunday I've had in a long time. I can make it through my whole day, including dinners where the kids don't like what I've cooked and the bedtime routine (and associated hundreds of repetitions of "Go to bed!") with a smile still on my face. For the first time in months, I'm actually convinced I'll beat this, rather than dreading that I won't. I'm able to smile every day, and mean it.

I'm not trying to argue that antidepressants are for everyone. I'm not 100% sure that I'll continue to not have side effects, or that I'll never have another bad day. But, I do know this: I have PPD. As I've seen the outpouring of love from my neighbors and family, I've also realized that the "stigma" was entirely in my head. No one looks down on me for needing these meds--it's okay to get medical help for medical problems. As Elder Holland said, "If you had appendicitis, God would expect you to seek a priesthood blessing and get the best medical care available. So too with emotional disorders. Our Father in Heaven expects us to use all of the marvelous gifts He has provided in this glorious dispensation." [source] This talk was one that I felt did not apply to me at the time it was given, but was extremely comforting in the days before I finally agreed to take the medication.

So, there you have it. I'm talking about my PPD. I hope that this will help someone gain the courage to talk about her PPD, or get the help she needs.

Positive Thinking

I was challenged on Facebook by my mom to write 3 positives per day for 5 days. I completed it, and I wanted to record it here as well.

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September 1st
1.) I've been in bed all day with a super awesome cold, and B2 fed D and A both lunch and dinner, and kept an eye on E while I did as little as possible.
2.) My mommy is still here, cancer-free, nearly 9 years after her initial breast cancer diagnosis.
3.) It's September 1st, which means it's almost my birthday! Woo hoo!

September 2nd
1.) B1 came home tonight, and has the next two days off! After a 4-day trip last week, and a two-day this week (combined with me being sick), it'll be so nice to have him home!
2.) I got to go shopping today at Costco with only two children in tow. I didn't hear on every aisle, "Can we buy these chips? Can we buy these cookies? Do we need watermelon? Can I have some gum?" This was almost me: http://www.scarymommy.com/back-school-video/
3.) I'm still on track to earn my Young Women medallion this year. I got a little sidetracked by E being born, but I look forward to joining my beautiful Young Women at the medallion dinner in February.

September 3rd
1.) Had another testament to the fact that God answers our prayers, even the ones that may seem silly and minor.
2.) I can almost hold a pencil again after last night's journaling. Seriously, when did my hand become such a weakling? And how did I ever write stuff before I had computers?
3.) I have a computer that sits on my lap and allows to me avoid folding laundry by Facebooking instead. 

September 4th
1.) Got to go with B2 on his field trip to the Utah State Fair. To quickly sum up the positives--he wanted me to ride on the bus and sit by him, we had a fun group and I only had to learn 2 new names, no lines, no pestering from the kids ("Can we ride that?" "Can I have a ridiculously-overpriced hot dog?"), and overall a really fun experience.
2.) Spent the afternoon building a volcano with Dallas--one-on-one, as B2 was at a friend's house, and A and E were napping.
3.) B1 finished insulating the basement--inspection tomorrow, and then we can start the drywall!

We'll overlook me dropping a rolling pin on my toe, running late for carpool this morning, and my wicked migraine tonight. It was still an awesome day.

September 5th
1.) Friends! While I don't think I have a hard time being friendly and cordial (most of the time), I have struggled with making true attachments with others. Moves are especially hard because I always wonder which people will care enough about me to make the effort to stay in touch and which will drop out of my life. I have been blessed with amazing friends--some from high school, some from college, and some more recent.
2.) I love those words and stories that bring fond memories of loved ones, like driving around in Jiggy randomly with Leslie, or why my car is named Elton, or remembering that the Wilk has great acoustics, and so on. I know I'm not super old or anything, but I have lived a great life so far.
3.) I love all the women that remind me that it's okay to be where and who I am--we can't all be perfect mothers with pristine counters and floors, with perfectly behaved genius children, with rich husbands, and "truly accomplished" in our hobbies. And you know what? That's okay. There's plenty to enjoy in life, even without all that perfection.

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Some days were easier than others to identify three positives. As I've been battling what I believe to be postpartum depression, I've found that sometimes there are some triggers to a depressive episode. The two worst triggers are allowing myself to lose my temper with my kids (that usually triggers a shame cycle, where I convince myself that I'm the worst mother ever, and then spend hours or sometimes longer battling the fear that they truly would be better off without me) and focusing on comparisons (Are my kids smarter than So-and-so's kids? Is my house cuter/bigger/fancier than So-and-so's house? Am I as fun/smart/pretty/hilarious/entertaining/friendly/etc as So-and-so?). But, as I was doing this challenge, I found it comforting to pull myself away from any negative thoughts, and any concerns over how I measure up, and simply focus on what was good in my life. I won't exaggerate and say that all my depression went out the window simply by stating 3 positive things on Facebook, but it did curtail it a bit, and this week has been better than some previous weeks have been. And so, let me record a few more positives.

September 6th
1.) The smile of a baby is the purest form of love. There are no judgments in my daughter's eyes--she doesn't grimace at the extra 15 pounds I'm carrying, or look down on me when I make a mistake. If she even sees the sadness that is sometimes behind my eyes, she just gives me a bigger grin than usual, to the point that I can feel the darkness recede and see the hope returning. There's just nothing like the unconditional and pure love that radiates from my daughter's face when she looks at me.
2.) There is something beautiful in everyone I have met. Some days it may be hard to see it, and some days I have to look past my own jealousy to be able to appreciate it, but I'm often amazed at the many beautiful acts I see. It may be something as simple as my neighbor behind me who is always cheerful and friendly--I doubt she's ever said an unkind thing about anyone. Then there are the friends I've made over the years, who remember my birthday, or make an effort to hang out with me, or who have served me in countless ways even when it was difficult for them. There are those I see who are struggling with all manner of physical illnesses and afflictions, yet they are optimistic they can either beat them or be happy in spite of them. I admire those who can ask for help, because I have a hard time admitting that I can't do it all on my own. I've watched neighbors plow sidewalks and driveways without being asked, watched those in my city pick up trash on the side of the road, and seen drivers in my neighborhood slow down and drive cautiously when children are out playing. These may seem like little things, but they show an unselfishness and consideration for others that I admire. So, while we are all flawed, and we all make mistakes, and sometimes we aren't the perfect examples of Christians that we know we ought to be, we are also good, wonderful people who are trying to be a little kinder, love a little more completely, and make our corner of the world a bit better, and that effort is worth recognizing and admiring.
3.) To end on a lighter note, I get to turn off my alarm tonight, and rise tomorrow morning to the sounds of my children rather than the obnoxious beeping of my alarm.

Funny Things D Says

"See that [Wii] game? It's called 'Punch Out.' Me and my brother play it all the time. It reminds us to punch out each other."

Facebook status turned blog post

"When in situations of stress we wonder if there is any more in us to give, we can be comforted to know that God, who knows our capacity perfectly, placed us here to succeed. No one was foreordained to fail or to be wicked. When we have been weighed and found wanting, let us remember that we were measured before and we were found equal to our tasks..." -- Neal A Maxwell [source]

I shared this devotional on Facebook few days ago, but I was listening to it again tonight, and this part really hit me. Sometimes I get really down on myself, thinking about all the awful things I do, the mistakes I've made, and the many things "everyone" does better than me. Some days all I can see are the negatives in myself, and I wonder why my husband still loves me, and why my kids can still smile when they see me, thinking that if they just saw the ugliness that I saw, they'd go running.

I post this not to garner sympathy, or to be fishing for compliments or reassurances that I'm not the awful person I sometimes see in the mirror. I post this for two reasons: first, to let others know who may be experiences similar feelings that you are not alone; and second, to remind us all that we were placed us here to succeed! Our Heavenly Father is giving us tasks, and challenges, and trials that He knows we are able to overcome. He knows our capacity; he knows our strengths, and our weaknesses, and what will help us grow. He does not give us challenges that will cripple us (spiritually speaking) -- He gives us challenges that will elevate us to great heights. And when you feel that you have been weighed and found wanting, do not be discouraged. It's not just you. You're not the only one who feels this way! You are not alone!

To borrow a few more words from another wise fellow, Jeffrey R Holland:

"The next time you are tempted to paint your self-portrait dismal gray, highlighted with lackluster beige, just remember that in like manner have this kingdom’s most splendid men and women been tempted. I say to you as Joshua said to the tribes of Israel as they faced one of their most difficult tasks, 'Sanctify yourselves: for tomorrow the Lord will do wonders among you' (Joshua 3:5)" [source; seriously, go read this whole speech. And then read it again. And again.]

Have faith. You are up to this. You can tackle this. You are equal to this. Put your faith in God, and watch the wonders occur around you. Don't believe me?

"If your faith is a little tested in this or any season, I invite you to lean on mine... Hope on. Journey on...

[A]ll things are possible to them that believe." [source; yeah, read this one too]