Mother's Day Rally at Postpartum Progress

Katherine at Postpartum Progress didn't fail to exceed expectations again this year, in the fourth annual Rally for Mom's Mental Health.  Tackling new topics like Bipolar Disorder and feeling worthy of celebration, as well as topics that so many of us have addressed, but that moms need to hear over and over like perfectionism, antenatal depression, and unique symptoms, each and every post is worth a read.

I hope you'll head to Postpartum Progress to read all of the posts, but in the meantime, here are links to a few that touched me, as well as to my contribution to the Rally:

Jill Williams Krause: On The Impending Doom of Postpartum Anxiety

Jenna Hatfield: On Wanting to Be the Perfect Mom

Miranda Wicker: On Bad Moments Not Making You A Bad Mother

Amber Koter-Puline: On Struggling With Motherhood After Postpartum Depression

2 until 1

Dear L2,

Your birthday is in two days.  I'm tempted to write a bunch of cliche stuff about how we can't imagine our lives without/before you.  That your sweet baby cheeks and the endless rolls on your thighs are practically edible.  That watching you sleep with your little booty up in the air is just about the most heavenly sight ever.

You know, all those things are true.  But there's so much more to the story...no?  Do you remember when Mama's therapist gave her that good advice while you were still in my belly to view your birth and my postpartum period as a team effort?  Do you remember who was on that team?  It was a duo.  Yep, just me and you.  And, oh, that advice.  That advice was some of the best that I've ever gotten.

We've been through a lot, you and me.  You've spent most of your first year attached to me when you weren't sleeping, and a few times when you were, though you are not the snuggle bug your older brother was.  All the trips to Target, drives to and from L1s school.  Flag football games, dinner parties, and days hanging at the pool.

This year has gone too fast.  I know, I know, everyone says that about their baby's infancy.  And I guess really, their kids' childhoods, in general.  But there is more to this story.  To our story.

You see, after I had your brother, I was sick.  I was really, really unwell.  I won't get into the details, but let's just say that it took a long time for me to be able to "just be" a mom.  For the first few months of his life, I didn't really get the opportunity to take care of your brother.  I couldn't really take care of myself, either.  I spent most of the time in bed, and then once I was physically well, I spent the remainder of the time running about doing everything but be a mom.

Anyway, this time I wanted to be sure that I wasn't isolated.  That I kept on doing all the things that I had been doing before I had two kids.  So we did all those things.  The pool at Memorial Day, concerts, parties, shopping, travel, work.  And who knows exactly which component of all those efforts around staying well that included everything from medication to placenta encapsulation were the "secret".  Regardless, it worked.  Life went on and for the most part all was good and right.

But, as the saying goes, time flies when you are having fun.  When I was ill in 2007, every single minute felt like a day.  Sadly, I wished that first year postpartum would go away and never come back.  You know how when you are sad or sick time moves so slowly?  Well, I've found the opposite to be true, as well.  In my efforts to stay well by creating a very busy, fulfilling life, perhaps I missed out on the little moments.  In the party preparations and trips to the Zoo, I suppose I missed out on the playing on the floor for hours or taking long baths together.

Bittersweet.  This birthday is bittersweet.  A celebration of our mutual wellness.  For sure.  But, also a realization that this time has passed and there is no going back.  That I made it go faster than it had to out of my fear of idle time and living in the moment without distraction.

I'll never know, and so if there is any lesson to be taken from these thoughts at all, for me it is that learning to be comfortable with the things we can't and therefore don't know in life.  Letting go of the past, accepting and celebrating it for what it was.  And it was great, my dear.

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, my sweet boy.  It might have gone by fast, but boy was it fabulous.

Love you moon and stars,

Mama

Motherhood: the past meets the present

In this post by The Twin Coach, entitled No One Told Me Parenting Was Going To Be Like Therapy, I found so much of myself.  No, clearly I don't have twins, though those who have seen photos of L1 and L2 at similar ages claim, in a joking fashion, that perhaps I did have "twins" born nearly four years apart.  The way that Gina describes her childhood, and the needs and preferences that have been accumulated over the years and now into adulthood as a result of those, strikes me.

Some of Gina's most profound words:

"When I am in that mode of mindful parenting, I am no longer a child needing to control a chaotic situation, I am a mother holding space for my daughter who needs to know that her big feelings are OK to have. I am no longer a child feeling that she is not worthy of being listened to, I am a mother tuning in to my son and understanding that he is unable to focus on what I am saying because he is overtired. I am a mother doing the best she can, and my children continue to be my greatest teachers."

Each of us has a different story.  A different path behind us and a unique one ahead of us.  Yet, the common thread is that as humans, and especially mothers, we are shaped by our experiences, by our genetics, by our environments, and by our traumas.  I wonder if we don't often sweep such knowledge under the rug and use sometimes-effective defense mechanisms like denial to "protect" ourselves from re-living painful memories.  I know I do.  

One of the things that I struggle with in relationship with my birth mother is that she loves to recall aloud nostalgically her own version of motherhood and my childhood.  While we all put rosy glasses on when remember our past at times, my mother does this partly as her own defense mechanism and partly because the truth is she doesn't really remember most of those many years.  She was so mentally ill, addicted to alcohol and meds, and most often drunk from the time I was 12 until well into college.  She damaged her body and brain beyond complete repair from all that abuse and also wasn't really "present" in a sober, whole way for the majority of my younger years.  So, when her eyes gloss over and she wants to walk down memory lane about this or that memory, I frankly get nauseous and a little angry.  That time of my life sucked horribly.  There might have been a few good memories sprinkled in, but most of them are terrible and I'd rather forget it all, than have to relive even a few of the horrible ones for the sake of a good one.  

In any case, while I struggle to overcome the anger and resentment I have towards my mom, I fully recognize the way that the experience likely prepared me for my PPD battle.  It is such a trite and cliche quote, but the reality is in many cases that what doesn't kill you does make you stronger.  I believe that the skills, experiences and resilience I developed as a result of being exposed to way too much bad stuff way too early in life did prepare.  Some would argue, perhaps, that it made me more fragile.  Sure, the traumas became PPD risk factors.  But what if genetics alone or even bad luck had been my risk factors instead?  If I had been a naive, dainty little flower of a gal, instead the scrappy, spicy one I am?  Would I have been able to battle the PPD monster and win?  With treatment, no doubt, everyone can get better.  But, would I have both gotten better and become an advocate?  Would I have gotten better and have been willing to share my story so openly, instead of sweeping it under the rug or beating around the proverbial bush when I refer to the postpartum period after my first child?

I don't know the answers to those questions any more than I know what it would have been like to have a healthy, "normal" childhood.  Long lunches over iced tea and wedding planning and preparing for a baby with my mom are experiences I will never have to remember.  That's not a complaint, just a fact.  But, the one gift that my mom unknowingly gave me was that of complete determination to break the cycle, to be the best mom I can be, to manage my anxiety with appropriate resources, to learn from my children, to be open and honest about my life and to look towards helping others so that their children can have happy, healthy mamas, too.

p.s. This post rocked my socks off.  Warning, it could be a trigger, so please don't read it if you are feeling vulnerable.  For those who feel strong and well, it could articulate what many of you with crappy childhoods haven't had the words to say before.  I know it did for me.

Also?  I know I've mentioned it here before, but The Ghost in the House is probably one of the best books on mothering and childhood, as it relates to genetic and environmental components of mental health and women across generations.  Read it. ;-)

With Eyes Wide Open

Making the decision to have a another child after surviving a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder is beyond difficult.  Thankfully, I had the opportunity to make that decision, though many moms are thrown into the deep end while still treading water during recovery because of a surprise pregnancy.  Or, a mom who had decided not to have any more biological children after recovering might become unexpectedly pregnant.  In any case, having the opportunity to take that next step intentionally, rather than starting out in a state of shock, was a blessing.

Still, there are a lot of emotions involved in not only the decision making around "yes or no", but also the details of the how, the when, and the who when it comes to the next time.  For me, everything about the second time was different.  From how I told my husband to with whom and when I shared with loved ones the news that I was expecting, nothing about #2 (aside from the nausea) looked or felt the same as with L1.

With L1, we had thought we were infertile, so the fact that I was pregnant in and of itself was a shock.  Not so much with L2...we were pretty much "trying" and it happened fairly quickly.  No shock when you pee on the stick already expecting to see "pregnant".

With L1, I had no idea what pregnancy felt like.  Sure, I knew what it looked like.  Most of my friends had had children before me and I had even been present and living with my sister for her pregnancy, birth and the first two years of my niece's life.  I knew what to expect when someone else was expecting.  Doctors appointments, cravings, swelling, ultrasounds, names, etc...I had that covered with L1.  Bedding, baby showers, birth plans, childbirth preparation...I did all the research.  Yet, from week 39 on, pregnancy and motherhood looked nothing like what I had expected in reality.  Everything I thought I knew went out the window and all the feelings I had anticipated having were absent.

Eventually, things panned out, as a result of time, treatment, personal growth, support and helping others. I adjusted to life, grieved and moved past the guilt and trauma around childbirth and breastfeeding.  I found my groove as a mama and bonded with my son in spite of PPD and the time it robbed us of.

But, recovery from the unexpected is a much different thing than making a choice to do something that could resemble, if not become a repeat, of one of the most challenging times of your life.  Choosing to take a chance with your well-being is a bit different than playing poker.  Money is just money and while financial issues can certainly be stressful, playing the odds with your health is a whole different ballgame.

Having a child after PPD might be labeled as a lot of things...
Scary.
Stupid.
Reckless.
Selfless.
Brave.
Bold.
Confident.
Naive.
Selfish.
Faithful.

I've heard it called all those and more.  I personally experienced reactions of people that were as broad as that list.  Maybe it depends on the people?  Both the parents and the loved ones, in terms of how the situation is evaluated.  Or, maybe it is all those things?  Or, maybe, just maybe, we don't need to label it at all.  Maybe having another child after PPD is just like having a child before PPD.  New territory.  A different experience.  A life-giving and receiving process.

To be honest, I'm really not sure and it doesn't matter too much to me.  What matters is that having another child after PPD means you go in with eyes wide open.  Knowing what things might look like.  Having seen some very dark days and certainly not wanting to relive them.  There are no guarantees in life.  There's no one recipe for getting PPD, just like there's no one magic treatment for "curing" it.

The only thing that you can be assured of is that no matter what decision you make, you are not alone.  Others have been there and are willing to walk with you.  Whatever choice you make, thanks to this incredible network of PPD Survivors and those who love them, you will have a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, a palm to high-five, an ear to listen, and arms to carry you.

I went in with my eyes wide open.  I wasn't trying to change the past, but I was aiming to alter the future.  To create a new experience.  I made the choice to have L2, not as a re-do, but simply as a do.  A proactive choice.  I went into it with all the knowledge and experience behind me, all the hope and faith ahead of me, and a million miles of love and support around me.

(above photo taken in April, 2011 by my dear friend, Elizabeth, at Libbie Wicket.)

As I approach the one year anniversary of this second postpartum experience, I thank you.  Whomever and wherever you are.  Whether I know you in real life, virtually or not at all.  If you are my best friend or just a reader who has never commented or contacted me.  It doesn't matter.  Just by reading you have impacted my journey and made it better.

With gratitude,

Stop this train.

In the past couple of weeks it seems that my "babies" have become big boys in the blink of an eye.  Just a few weeks ago, before the horrific (point of reference) failed vacation by way of 4 people vs. 1 stomach virus vs. 1 hotel room with ONE BATHROOM, they were babies.  At least in my mind.

Now?  L1 is wearing underpants to bed (Ciao, Pull-ups!).  Yesterday we moved his toddler seat over to L2's side of the mini-van and installed his brand new booster seat.  L2 is now standing, has cut 4 top teeth in the last ten days and is "talking" up a storm.  I'm packing my maternity clothes up into bins to consign (some of them have been used by 4 or 5 different mamas and I think my friends are all out of the baby-making phase).  Infant toys and clothes are being donated to schools and needy refugee families.  There isn't a bouncy chair, swing, play mat or exersaucer in sight.  And I?  Want to cry...

I want to weep bittersweet tears of joy and thanksgiving for the blessing of this new experience as I inevitably compare it to my first.  I want to wail and gnash my teeth and curse still at the irreplaceable moments stolen by PPD and Anxiety with my first son.  I want to scream from the rooftops that it doesn't matter.  That my son is now glued to me emotionally and physically, even as a spunky four and a half year old who is beginning to be influenced more by his peers than his mom.  I want to tell you all that attachment can happen no matter what.  That against time, odds, illness and trauma we were created to love one another and while you'll never forget, you can make up for lost time.  I want to tell moms who are considering having more kids that it can be different.  I want to make it clear that while love is immeasurable, I honestly cannot determine a difference in the way I feel about my babies.  In fact, if anything, I feel a little more connected to my PPD baby, probably by way of having known him longer.  I want to say that just like every other mom whose last baby is about to turn one, I'm feeling mixed, NORMAL emotions.

If you had told me I'd be feeling this way four and a half, or even four, years ago I would have certainly called you a liar.  Miss the newborn phase?  No way.  Long for more children?  Not a chance.  Get teary watching "A Baby Story" on TLC?  Yeah, right.  But, that's where I am.  I grieve the passing of the days and dread the turning page of the calendar.  Each day closer to mid-May means I have less days of being a mom to an infant left.  The snuggling night-time bottles, onesies, lovies, rattles, and crib mobiles are all history.

When I had PPD, I was begging to have my tubes tied.  Pleading with my husband to truly discern and decide whether he would stay with a wife long-term who was completely unwilling to have another child.  I asked him to divorce me, irrationally thinking that it would be easier on us all to be apart now, than to wait for what I thought was inevitable to happen.  I wrote him letters.  I negotiated with my doctors (thank God they won), to help me be sure that I would never have to endure PPD again.  I thought the only way to do that was to have no more children.  In fact, if I'm honest, I was still trying to mentally reconcile that I was a mom in the first place.  "Just make me his aunt", I would beg.  "Someone else take responsibility and just let me love him like a nephew.  I already know how to do that."

It's still hard to believe that those thoughts crossed my mind, and writing them stings a bit, even now.  Since then I have had a glorious childbirth (which is incredible and so healing based upon the level of trauma of my first birth) and am near completion of that year that they consider to be the postpartum period.

Two sons.  Two beautiful, healthy sons.  Like anything worthwhile, it hasn't been easy.  Are there more hurdles ahead?  Most certainly.  But living in the place of knowledge of having overcome huge obstacles, realizing motherhood as not only a circumstance but a joy...oh, what a journey.

Sure, if I could actually stop "the train" for just a bit, to break in the busyness of life and really, truly savor the moment, I would.  I'd visually take in each nook and cranny of my babies so I don't forget what their dimples, leg rolls or cute little preschool tushies look like.  I'd watch them sleep and breathe and just be for many more minutes than I have time to now.  I'd nuzzle them close and try to memorize their freshly bathed scents.  I'd listen to their sweet singing voices and mentally record a song or two.

Oh, to have a pause button.  Yes, please do stop this train.  But, no, I absolutely don't want to get off.

the journey is not yet over...

Lent ended last week with Holy Week and Easter.  The busiest and yet most penitential of church seasons.  This year, instead of giving up meat or wine or other tangible items as an act of sacrifice, I decided to take myself outside of my typical M.O.

Constant judgment of situations, and most of all myself, is my traditional daily practice.  Being a lifelong perfectionist, that judgment is typically followed by disappointment, guilt or an effort to improve things.

Trying to make one's life perfect is always futile.  No one person is without faults and weaknesses.  And no one's life is without challenges and trials.  Focusing on the negatives, the sub-par areas of our lives, is like a tone-deaf adult taking music lessons in an effort to become an opera singer.  Obviously, pointless and silly, right?

Yet, each and every day, most of us spend our time focused on our imperfect parenting, our dish-filled sink or our irritable spouse.  We resent the challenges life has uncovered and waste hours of our time ruminating on how things might be different or feeling sorry for ourselves or guilty for our circumstances. We see only the stretch marks and pimples when we look in the mirror and gloss over the bright blue eyes, the shiny hair or the strong hands that actually make up our physical appearance and are admired by others.

Trying to change our situations by wasting mental energy lamenting them is inefficient.  It points our minds towards pessimism, zaps us of our passion for our lives and for improving them.  We spend so much energy looking backwards or to the future, that we fail to even see, let alone allow ourselves to enjoy, the present.

This Lent my focus has been on acceptance.  Instead of trying to constantly evaluate or change my reality, I chose to embrace it.  To allow it.  To accept my role, my life circumstances, and the people in my life as is.

It's amazing how freeing these 40 days of practicing non-judgment have been.  I grew in my faith and I believe also overall as a person.  I had to give up something much more challenging for me than candy or steak.  Living honestly in my own space with myself and others and being present and in the moment taught me much about a true peace that really does live outside of something that can be achieved through conscious effort to change.

I realize that just like absolute perfection can't be attained, neither can full acceptance.  This journey is far from over.  But the baby steps I have made toward peace and acceptance have been fruitful enough that I look forward to walking in this space, focusing on embracing my life, my very good life, just as it is.


~For those mamas who are currently suffering from PPD, please know that this message is not directed to you.  You do not deserve to be suffering as you are and certainly should not be encouraged just to accept it.  I pray that you will have within you the hope and determination to help you seek support to recover quickly- PPD is 100% treatable!

This post is reflective in nature.  Four and a half years after suffering and then recovering from severe PPD and PPA, I realized a part of me was still struggling to accept motherhood and the people in my life, including myself, as they are.  While I believe this might have been a small component of my depression after becoming a mother for the first time, I also whole-heartedly believe that the lifestyle transition was just one small piece of the PPD puzzle.  Thankfully, treatment allowed me to overcome the physiological factors, but the last bit of work was up to me.  Motherhood is sacrificial, isolating, and can be extraordinarily shocking to the system.  For me, finding my sweet spot within a role that requires so much time and effort, and is in many ways so defining, was a very slow process.

Lifegate Counseling sponsors MAMABEAR 5K and 1 mile fun run!

I am thrilled that LifeGate Counseling Center, one of the few such organizations in Atlanta to consistently show interest in learning more about, raise awareness for and effectively treat women with mood and anxiety disorders, is hosting this event in May.  I hope you'll plan to participate or support the event in some way.

The MamaBear 5K and Kids 1 mile fun run.  This race is for the whole family, not just women...they are simply celebrating moms!  The North Face will be giving away prizes and have games for the kids.  The race t-shirts are really nice as well.  Please help spread the word about this cool event by communicating regularly and enthusiastically to all your social networks and at work, home and school.

Here is the link to race registration.

Date

Start: Saturday, May 26, 2012 @ 9:00 AM

Address

Peachtree Presbyterian Church
3434 Roswell Road Atlanta, GA

Fees

$25 if received by May 22, 2012 | $30 late registration and $10 for 1 Mile | After May 22nd $15

Registration Closing Date

Thursday, May 24, 2012 @ 8:00 PM PST

More Good Reads and News!

Doing so much reading lately that I don't have time for writing...

From TIME (yes, that TIME): For Moms with Postpartum Depression, the Nation’s First Inpatient Unit

Dirty Little Secret: One of the Authors at Connecticut Working Mom

Even Fox News gets in the game with:   New mom alert: How to cope with your anxious thoughts

And two from one of my fave's, Kate Kripke:

To The Postpartum Depression Moms Suffering In Silence (holy comments, Batman!)  

and

12 Myths of Pregnancy and Postpartum

What have I missed? Feel free to share here in the comments or on the Facebook page!

Peace,

Annnoucing an Online PPD Support Group Facilitated by Professionals!

I am super excited about Regroup Therapy's new endeavor to offer an online support group.  I really hope that those many of you who don't have access to or aren't able to attend in-person groups will take advantage of this wonderful opportunity!  Also, you never know who might be needing this, so share the news widely- you can do so by going to the blog post at Kate Kripke's blog and clicking "SHARE" to any of the social media resources you use.

From Regroup's site:

Our Video Support Groups - Join one free!

In what is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of your life, you are overwhelmed with feelings of sadness, guilt and worst of all – you feel alone. But you are not.

Up to 20% of new mothers suffer from postpartum depression (PPD). Many of them are strong, intelligent, independent women - just like you.

Regroup video support groups offer you a simple way to come together with other women facing PPD. Every group is moderated by a licensed therapist. The technology is easy for anyone to use.

LEARN MORE HERE! 

Good Reads

Some posts that I really hope you'll take the time to read...

Another great one by Amber Rhea, an Atlanta PPD Survivor:
8 Truths About Postpartum Depression.

A Series on PPD from the perspective of the Husband or Partner at Postpartum Progress:

Start here with "Dads Speak Out on Postpartum Depression, Part 1: Getting Over The Mountain" by Katherine Stone's husband Frank's post, and then be sure to read the other 5 of the six part series.

A post about the challenges and joys of being a work-at-home parent: How to Work at Home with your Baby, something I struggle to find balance in.

Although this went viral perhaps there are one or two of you who haven't come across it yet, so I had to include: Apologies To The Parents I Judged Four Years Ago.

From one of my fave people EVER, a post by Diana Keough of shareWIK: 

Getting Out of a Funk: In Praise of Distraction, Rose-Colored Glasses.

And rather than another read, I'd also like to suggest you watch a video on Diana's story.  For me, inspirational doesn't even begin to describe it...
(WARNING: Diana's story is intense, so if you are currently in a fragile state, you may want to wait to watch it at another time.)