To Stay or Run Away?
Chrissie
I woke up to the sound of thunder and heavy rain followed by Kinley crying to be fed. It was an hour before my alarm was set to go off. I never did go back to sleep. Getting Reagan ready for school went much more smoothly today than yesterday even though both Kinley and Caleb were in their beds screaming and crying the whole time and Mike was getting ready for work so was unable to help. I did my best to "tune them out" but was really daydreaming of cramming sharp objects into my eardrums.

Reagan and I got in the car and started the rainy drive to school with all of the other morning commuters. I wasn't in the mood for music so I turned on the old talk radio AM show I used to listen to every single morning on my way to work in the downtown Atlanta traffic (back when I had a REAL job). I suddenly felt a longing I haven't felt in a very, very long time. I longed to be stuck in morning traffic with my travel mug of coffee in hand. I reminisced about walking into the Starbucks downtown and getting my hot coffee and blueberry scone before taking the elevator up to the 21st floor of one of the coolest places in the city. I longed so deeply for it that I could smell that wonderful Starbucks smell, feel the nylon of my hose, and hear the clicking of my heels on the city sidewalk.

In all honesty, there were many times when I hated my job back then. I hated the commute and the traffic. I hated the heels and the hose. When I thought about it, the sad realization was that I missed my freedom. I did all of those things on my own and with a certain personal confidence and satisfaction. Now, I wear pajamas all day, rarely fix my hair and makeup, and am lucky to get to shower at midnight just to wash the sweat, spit-up, and dried food off of me.

I dropped R off at school and began the drive back home. The closer I got the more I dreaded getting out of the car and going back into 'the house of screaming kids'. "What if I just keep driving?" I had joked about having that thought before while chatting with my "mommy friends" over coffee. The exception was that this time I was actually entertaining the idea. All I had with me was my wallet and my cellphone. I reasoned that those were all I needed anyway. Clothing and toiletries could be purchased later. I could go to a hotel and shower, change, and brush my teeth. I figured I had enough cash and my credit card; I could make it to Colorado in about two days.

Alas, as I approached our subdivision I turned left and pulled into our driveway. I sat there in the car looking inside our windows for about 10 minutes before forcing myself to get out and go inside. I wish I could say that once I got inside that I looked around and realized all that I would miss if I left but I can't. I got inside and Mike was leaving for work, we were out of soy milk and diapers, and the baby was still crying. I immediately felt reduced, diminished, and wasted by life and motherhood.

I didn't think it was possible to hate every single second of your life but I do. I truly, truly do right now. I hope, in time, that it will change. But today is looking bleak. I hope that anyone reading will forgive me a totally despondent and pessimistic entry. I'm just not feeling particularly hopeful or encouraged. Perhaps the sun needs to come back to GA. It has been rainy since Saturday morning.
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Victim or Victorious
Chrissie
As the weekend is winding down I find my mood also winding down. Mike was actually able to take two days off and it has been heaven having him home with me. But Monday morning will inevitably come and just that thought sends me into a panic. I am terrified at the mere thought of being alone. I get a knot in my stomach and fear so intense that I want to throw up. Friday, I begged (yes, literally) him not to go to work. I'm wretched for doing so because he then, full of guilt, had to leave me a sobbing mess in our living room.

We went to my mom and dad's today and I found myself wishing we could just stay there. And maybe tomorrow I will take the two younger ones over there to hang out during the day. For some reason I am less "lonely" there even though there will be no one home. It somehow feels safer.

What is my deal? I told Mike tonight that I really wish I knew why this was happening. I bonded with Kinley almost instantly when we were in the hospital (much sooner than my other two) and for the first two weeks I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Now, when I look at her, I want to run. I feel utterly empty.

Mike, being the amazing husband that he is told me that I can't ask questions like why it's happening because it just is. It's just so frustrating to feel so incredibly lost and hopeless. I am a person who is normally IN LOVE with my life. And it's killing me to not be able to feel that right now. It's as if something vital in me died and is gone forever. And I am paralyzed. I have no idea what to do now.

There will undoubtedly be someone reading this who doesn't understand at all. And that's okay. I am blogging about this because it's therapeutic for me and if I can help even one other mommy to know that she's not alone in feeling this way, then it wouldn't have been for nothing that I suffered.

While standing at my kitchen sink today, I vowed to myself that I would do at least two things every single day that make me feel normal, whether it's fixing my hair or makeup, or going for a walk outside. I will watch funny movies and tv shows and laugh as much as possible. I will pray and I will sing and I will continually give thanks. I will fight and fight and fight some more. And I will win.


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Tiny Steps Forward
Chrissie
Today has been somewhat better. That's a lie; it's been superb compared to the last several. However, it didn't start out superbly. Once again my husband had to leave for work at 4:30am. I can tell you that every morning this week that he's left for work I have had a total breakdown lasting anywhere from 20 minutes to 45 minutes and then recurring throughout the day. Yesterday he left at 4:30am and got home a little before 8pm. When he kissed me goodbye this morning while I was curled up in the fetal position on our bed, crying (better than a shoulder squeeze), he told me he would come home as early as humanly possible. I didn't believe him but said, "Ok.".

After getting Reagan off to school (special thanks going out to my mom for taking R to school the last 2 days), the morning started pretty rough. Caleb, for some reason, flips out any time you try to take his pants off to change his diaper. And by flipping out, I mean, literally, flipping. He kicks, screams, twists; they are absolutely the most awful tantrums I've ever seen. Normally, I can deal with his tantrums to an extent but in the midst of this horrible postpartum depression I feel....what are the words? I felt like I no longer wanted to be his Mommy while feeling my heart break into a million pieces at the same time. I wanted to collapse into a puddle of nothingness in the middle of his bedroom floor. I wanted to run and hide. I was numb.

We got through the diaper change and breakfast. Kinley woke up (for the day, I might add, as she hasn't napped longer than 10 minutes all day) shortly after. I changed her and fed her and began the normal routine of social networking. As I was sitting there holding her and surfing a dozen postpartum depression mommy blogs and other websites, the most disturbing thoughts began to enter my mind. I got up and began pacing in the kitchen on the verge of hyperventilating. I wanted to call my mom, "If something were to happen to me, you and Daddy would do everything in your power to make sure that "he" doesn't get R, right?". I couldn't figure out how to pose the question without raising suspicion.

I shook myself, realizing where my thoughts had gone and decided that I would try to do some journaling. I used to journal for several hours a day and hadn't done it in a few years. I thought it might be therapeutic. So, I sat down and began writing. Surprisingly, it was making me feel worse. I began to question God which lead to me questioning whether God was even there. Anyone who knows me knows that is absurd. I know God experientially, and yet, I anguishingly question Him when I'm at my lowest.

At that moment, K had a startle reflex and woke up. I looked down at her and she was studying my face so intently. I knew she was looking at me for validation (which I felt I would never be able to give her). I started to tell her the same out loud and the minute she heard my voice she flashed me the biggest most incredible smile that I've ever seen on a baby. I felt a laugh escape me and then I burst into tears. In the same second, I prayed to God in an 'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?' type of prayer. [In the amplified Bible, this is translated 'My God, My God, why have You abandoned me (leaving me helpless, forsaking and failing me in my need?).] I got out my Bible and after reading for a little while began to feel like my priorities may be skewed lately.

Since then I have been much more peaceful, pleasant, and productive. I managed to wash and fold 4 loads of laundry. **MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENT** I was able to laugh and play with C which has improved his mood dramatically. I took all three kids grocery shopping after picking R up from school without incident. We even started cloth diapers on K today which has gone well so far! Reagan and Caleb have played nicely and quietly in the playroom all afternoon and Kinley finally napped for about 30 minutes, leaving me to enjoy a glass of merlot-cab and blog away!

Without this streak of good fortune, I would have completely fallen apart when Mike messaged me to say his only server for the night called out on her last night on the job, meaning he would have to cover her shift. So, "as early as humanly possible" has turned into a 16+ hour day. I am dealing with this news well for the moment but the evening is still young.

I am trying to hang on to the happy moments where I feel like my former self while not taking them for granted. I am in fear of how dark the darkest moments are.

***5 hours later***

I made it! I got all 3 kids bathed on my own. Mind you, the baby had to cry for a little while on her own which bothers yours truly but she did not suffer too horribly.

Hubby is home now and we are discussing how much our love for one another is going to carry us through this horrible and, yet, wonderful time of our lives. I'm sure that as horrible as it all seems right now that one day we will be able to look back with fondness? Yes? No? Either way, I love my husband with my entire being and if he is by my side for only 4 hours out of a 24 hour day, that's good enough for me, even if that means I have to take medication to get through it.

The day is now over and Kinley has STILL not slept. She is lying wide awake in Mike's arms while he is fast asleep. Ugh, hope it's not a long night. I have learned not to take a single moment for granted. While I may have had a perfectly wonderful day and night does not mean that it will last. I'm so afraid of the darkness. But being the courageous soul that I am, I will embrace it for all that it means for me.
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The Problem With Reaching Out? Shoulder Squeezes.
Chrissie
So, yeah, my last post was probably a little scary. It might be slightly obvious that I'm in a dark place right now. It shouldn't surprise me because I suffered with postpartum depression after Reagan and Caleb also. Perhaps not quite to this degree. I also don't normally discuss the fact that I feel depressed much of the time or that I also suffered with antepartum depression with all three of my children. It has never felt like something I wanted to "burden" others with. The past couple of days, however, have been excruciatingly frightening. And perhaps it's because there are three kids now, two of them being babies. I felt it was crucial for me to swallow my pride, reach out, and *gulp* ask for help.

So, with tears streaming down my face, a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my hands sweating and shaking I called Kaiser and said the words "postpartum depression" to the person on the other end of the line. The barrage of questions that ensued caused me to wonder whether I had done the right thing. I began to panic that these people were going to think I was a danger to myself or my babies and come take them or me away. I found myself answering their questions very carefully but simultaneously wondering if I was a danger to myself or my babies. Of course not! But? It was then that I realized that making the call was a very important step for me to have taken.

My day continued to be horrible and in desperation I reached out to the one person I believed would be understanding; my husband. I got no response over and over for a few hours. Later in the evening, I poured my heart out to him and my mother to ask for support and understanding. I think I got a little less than I was expecting. Questions about why I was feeling bad, what was making me feel this way, and a whole lot of silence. And then, this morning, when I could have used a hug more than anything in the entire world, I got a shoulder squeeze before he headed off to work. I'm here to tell you that a shoulder squeeze DOES NOT sustain you through a panic attack at the realization that you are once again alone with the babies when you're in the midst of a deep and dark depression.

Somehow I have managed to crawl halfway out of the hole this morning and function as a fraction of my former self but I feel "on the brink". My appointment is in 2 1/2 hours and while I'm happy to have my mom available and willing to watch my kids for me so that I can go, I dread the confrontation with her. I pray there isn't one but my mental health has always been a very touchy subject in my family. It is the main reason for my hesitation to reach out for help in the first place. The history there is very old but still very raw.

I usually pride myself on being courageous and strong and while I know with my head that taking this step IS courageous, I still feel weak and a very real sense that I have somehow let my family down by admitting that I might need help getting through it this time. I looked at my sweet baby sleeping in my husband's arms last night and once again the tears began flowing. She looked so innocent and perfect and the only words I could form were, "Too bad she has such a crappy Mommy." That's not true, though. I know it's not. It's because I love my babies so much that I want to feel better. And it is for my babies that I will give myself the hug I so desperately need and drag myself through the doors of that doctor's office this afternoon.

I am reminded of a story I used to hear when I was in Mary Kay about the donkey in the hole (because I feel like I am in a hole of sorts as well). Like the donkey, I am going to shake this off and step up until I am out of this hole. I am determined to find my joy once again. **If you don't know the story, you can read it here: The Donkey Story.**


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Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy....and Other Lies
Chrissie
When someone commits suicide, why do the people closest to them always say the dumbest thing, "I should have seen the signs."? Of course they saw them; they absolutely knew the person was depressed. The truth is that it's inconvenient and disruptive to one's own schedule to do anything about it. I mean, someone might have to put themselves "out there" emotionally and make themselves available to someone who is hurting. Heaven forbid someone does something they don't want to do or feels uncomfortable with.

Then there are the people who "don't believe in depression". "You should just be happy." Oh yeah, why didn't I think of that? It's a good thing that I'm this amazingly "all together" person who never suffers from postpartum depression, who never feels completely defeated by a high-strung 7-year old with behavioral issues and low self-esteem, a 1 1/2 year old hell-bent on throwing impressive tantrums, and a newborn who does nothing more than eat, sleep, scream, and shit. It's a good thing I thrive on little adult interaction 6 out of 7 days a week. It's a good thing I have no dreams, skill, or talent so that I'm not worried about them being totally wasted while my brain rots on washing laundry and barely keeping up with cleaning a house that everyone else is intent on keeping messy and dirty. It's all good because if I was suffering from postpartum depression and needed to make an appointment to speak with a professional, I would have to go with two screaming babies in tow.

The reason: because it's simply inconvenient for me to be unable to deal with life right now. After sacrificing my body for 9 months for an unplanned, less than desirable pregnancy and almost dying for the second time after delivery (nope, not exaggerating); after sacrificing my dreams for, yet another, indeterminable period of time, it is just simply not acceptable for me to NEED anything in return. Why should I have a problem with any of this anyway? I'm a woman, this is just what we do, and happily. Damnit, I should know my place. It's supposed to be buckets of sunshine to be a mother and a housewife. TO HELL WITH AMBITION! It's inconvenient.

So, as to not inconvenience anyone, I will strive and struggle and ultimately "deal" in silence with the thoughts that plague me until this 4th trimester is over just like I have in the past. I will pretend that life is all bunnies and rainbows and forget that my life has been disrupted, much less my schedule. My mantra shall be, "There's no such thing as hormones. There's no such thing as hormones."


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Awakenings, curiosities, and rantings.
Chrissie
I guess I should have seen this coming. It's been unraveling for years now. This process of "awakening". I've been denying it and avoiding it. I quit believing in feminism years ago. But since the morning I saw a pink plus sign on a home pregnancy test coming up on 8 years ago, my life has changed in unpredictable and astounding, sometimes aggravating ways. I can't even begin to go into that now. Not now. But nothing in my life has been the same since that moment. How strange to wake up one person and become another in half an instant. I remember it like it was only a moment ago and yet my entire life and everything that comprised the person I was that morning is now a vapor that has been blown away. In a way, I ache for that test to have come out differently. I guess things would have been easier. Perhaps not, though. Surely, I wouldn't be the woman I am now and certain dreams would never have come to pass.

That was the "beginning". And now I am in the middle of the one of the greatest upheavals of my 30 year life. Until this week, I was sure of certain things. Now I am a vast ocean of questions and curiosities. I can't say that's necessarily a bad thing. I'm naturally inclined toward the curious. So much so that I'm tempted to change the name of this blog. :)

To put it in "short", I have never been an advocate for women much. I don't enjoy being one most of the time. I don't enjoy what most would say are "womanly" activities (besides pedicures). But I am drawn to or even "called to" the benefit of women. Early in my "born-again" Christian life, I felt like self-esteem was what I had been called to. In the pursuit of that, I felt even deeper called into the life of writing on the same subject. As a matter of fact, the path my life has taken has lead me toward fulfilling these "destinies".

**I started this blog entry a year ago last month. It is interesting how much further into this very topic I have journeyed since that time. I began electrology school in April which set in stone my desire to pursue electrology as a career and reaffirmed my calling to heal the wounded self-esteems of women. I was able to see how my career puts me in the perfect position for this. In June, we found out we would be welcoming another baby (a girl) into the world. And in September, I became co-moderator of our online Expecting Club. Later, I also became the Community Leader for the Birth Control board for the same online community. My sphere of influence continues to grow.

As it has grown, so has my love for women on the whole and what we deal with and have to overcome on a daily basis to succeed in this gender-biased world. I have also had the opportunity to witness how women can be the enemy of women. It both saddens and angers me when I see women tearing down other women or making comments that set our entire gender back 2 steps for every move forward. It's endlessly frustrating and exhausting. Sometimes it feels utterly futile. I will, however, keep plugging along because I am no quitter.

It is quite by synchronicity that I came across this "lost" post today because I came here with the intentions of posting an entry expressing my frustration with women bashing other women for their choices in feeding their babies. Why is this something that women even need to be arguing about? Why is this such a hot topic? I DO NOT UNDERSTAND!!!

***WARNING: I will be doing some ranting now.***

There must be something that happens, physiologically, when a woman breastfeeds her baby that causes her to feel superior for doing so. I wouldn't know because when I was breastfeeding my babies, I also had D-MER, so the physiology going on with me was negatively affecting my opinion of breastfeeding. Because of this, I formula-fed all of babies for the majority of their first year. It was the right decision for me and my family. Who is anyone else to judge this? Why is it even anyone's business? I applaud anyone who has successfully breastfed their babies. I especially applaud anyone who has overcome difficulties to do so. But I also applaud anyone who has made the heart-ripping decision NOT to breastfeed their babies. I've seen women (and been one of them) who agonize with the decision to switch to formula. What gives anyone the right to crucify these women for making that choice?

I believe that to be a mother is the most difficult job on the planet. We should be reaching out to one another and holding each other up, not pulling the props out from under others and ourselves. We have enough pressure and judgement from other sources and stereotypes to make it hard to stand. We should at least be kind and sympathetic to each other.

We all have the same job to do; raising healthy, happy, and productive human beings. And if my mission is to help heal and restore self-esteem to women, then it must also be to nurture healthy self-esteem in little girls, namely my own daughters. I can do this by allowing them to see me loving and helping other women and mothers. We all need to be setting this example. /rant (before I go off on another tangent).


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