Admitting It

Admitting it is half the battle, right? Well, it's time. I am not myself. I am struggling, and it's not getting any better. We hit a groove in December. I love the holidays, the decor, the festivities. I did a pretty good job of getting all my shopping done from my laptop while nursing. Life was good. We were out and about and doing well.

Then, we got home from visiting my mom, and I haven't felt healthy since. I had a fever that first night home, and have been dealing with sinus congestion ever since. It's not the stuffy nose where you can't breath kind, but the the kid that is so deep in your head that it always feels heavy, and there is usually post nasal drip going on. I keep thinking I have a cold, but then it doesn't really turn into anything. I just feel blah. And of course, I'm too paranoid of messing up my milk supply to really take some decongestants that would probably clear everything up. So saline rinse it is.

This feeling, along with the aches and pains of what I'm realizing is not an ideal nursing posture, mixed with a twelve week growth spurt has me at about the end of my rope. I got lots of good sleep while at my mom's over Christmas. But since, I've been an insomniac with a pea sized bladder. L can usually go 7-8 hours between feedings at this point. He eats for last time somewhere around 8, and by the time we get him tucked into bed, it's about 9:30. He then sleeps (for the most part, usually needs to be soothed once or twice) until about 3 or 4 when we wants to eat again. I've been getting into bed by about 10:30 myself, and having trouble falling asleep. Then, I usually have to pee around 1, sooth L around 2, and feed him around 4. Last night, I swear I saw every hour on the clock as time ticked by. There is nothing more excruciating than lying awake in the middle of the night next to a peacefully sleeping baby. Nothing.

Two night ago, I burst into tears when, as requested, my husband emailed me a list of extra curricular work activities he has coming up over the next few months. When I saw that he would be busy for two Saturdays in April, including the one right after my birthday, I just couldn't handle it. I love being with L. In fact, I am beginning to freak out about going back to work, and I still have another three months. But man, do I look forward to evenings and weekends, because I really like to be with my family of three. And I need help. I need Hubby to spend time with L so I can just get some shit done. I need to get a massage to fix my fucked up neck. I need to reorganize my closets and get all my non-maternity clothes out of the attic so I can have more than three things to wear. I need to not be by myself.

And this is when I went to good old doctor google and typed "three months post partum depression."

This is the article I first read. See below in bold for all the things I can relate to right now.

Postpartum blues. A certain amount of insomnia, irritability, tears, overwhelmed feelings, and mood swings are normal during the first days afterchildbirth. These "baby blues" usually peak around the fourth postpartum day and subside in less than 2 weeks, when hormonal changes have settled down. If you have postpartum blues after childbirth, you're not alone-more than half of women have temporary mild symptoms of depression mixed with feelings of happiness after having a baby.²Be sure to report any feelings of postpartum blues to your doctor at your first postpartum checkup, so he or she can follow up with you.Postpartum depression (PPD). Symptoms of postpartum depression can follow postpartum blues. They can feel like more of the same or can feel worse than before. Postpartum depression can also happen months after childbirth or pregnancy loss. In some cases, symptoms peak after slowly building for 3 or 4 months. Possible PPD symptoms require evaluation by a doctor.If you have postpartum depression, you have had five or more depressive symptoms (including one of the first two listed below) for most of the past 2 weeks, including:^1, 2

• Depressed mood-tearfulness, hopelessness, and feeling empty inside, with or without severe anxiety.

• Loss of pleasure in either all or almost all of your daily activities.

• Appetite and weight change-usually a drop in appetite and weight but sometimes the opposite.

• Sleep problems-usually trouble with sleeping, even when your baby is sleeping.

• Noticeable change in how you walk and talk-usually restlessness, but sometimes sluggishness.

• Extreme fatigue or loss of energy.

• Feelings of worthlessness or guilt, with no reasonable cause.

• Difficulty concentrating and making decisions.

• Thoughts about death or suicide. Some women with PPD have fleeting, frightening thoughts of harming their babies. These thoughts tend to be fearful thoughts, rather than urges to harm.

Hmm. Let's see. That would be seven. It was that last one, the fearful thoughts, rather than urges to harm, that got me. I've had these awful thoughts for a long time, though they have tapered off a lot since the beginning. They are still there at times. I think they were probably masked a bit by the holiday excitement. The thing is, there is no desire to harm L at all. The fear is that something will happen to him, or that I will accidentally harm him somehow. The thoughts are more like...What if I get so tired that my arms fall open and I drop him on the floor?  What if I trip and step on his head? What if I let go of the stroller when we're out for a walk and he rolls into traffic? And the worst is that when ever I am away from him, I think someone is going to die in a car accident.

Yeah. It was reading that last bullet point that made me realize I need to do something about this. I can't go on this way. I have three months left before I go back to work, and I want to enjoy as much of it as possible. (That said, we all know that not every moment with an infant is truly enjoyable, explosive poops and spit-ups and all, but you know what I mean.)

I have dealt with anxiety and depression for over a decade now, and have been in therapy twice. I'm really not looking forward to regular therapy right now. Mostly because I just don't want to fit it into my life. But, if that's what I have to do, I'll fogire out how to make it work, and hope it's only temporary. I'm equally less than thrilled thinking about the possiblity of taking medication. I took SSRIs for 8 years. I gained weight, lost my libido, and it was damn hard to go off. But I cannot continue to fear that my child will die in a car accident every time we are separated. That's just not practical.

I had a strong feeling might end up in this place, given my history. I promised myself I would do something about it. I emailed my OB and got the name of a therapist to call. I just have to make that call and set up a consultation. I will do it before the week is out. I have to. It's not easy. But like I said, admitting it is half the battle, right?

I'm admitting this here because I know some of you have been through this. Some of you have talked about it. Some of you haven't. But we need to talk about these things. They happen, and we shouldn't feel guilty or ashamed. We should feel able to do something to fix it. It doesn't mean that I'm a bad mother. It doesn't mean that I don't love my son, or that I'm not incredibly grateful for him every. single. day. It means that an incredible hormone crash mixed with months of sleep deprivation and a predisposition for anxiety has left me feeling not my best self. It doesn't mean I have to stay that way.