MIA

Just a quick note to let y'all know that I PROMISE to blog again soon.  I've been feeling under the weather for almost two weeks now and am trying to play catch up and celebrate L's 3rd birthday, too.  Hope you've been well and look forward to "talking" again soon!

In the meantime, here are a few links to awesome blog posts you may not have yet read:
Missing You at Make Mommy Go Something Something

Relapsing by Alexis Lesa at Postpartum Progress

A Thief in the Night at Arms Wide Open

Through the Eyes of Another at the Postpartum Dads Project

Hindsight isn't just 20/20...it's rose-colored, too

Three years.  I have survived motherhood for nearly three years.   I am about to celebrate my 34th birthday by celebrating my son's third.

I vividly remember a day, when L was about 7 weeks old, that I sat in a rocker in his room.  He wasn't fussing.  In fact, he might have been sleeping.  But, the sadness, overwhelm, physical challenges and drastic and sudden changes motherhood brought upon me had me close to a boiling point.  Thoughts entered my head and then instead of slipping away as quickly and quietly as they should have they stuck.  They stuck like a scratched Prince record might have stuck on my Cabbage Patch Kids record player when I was seven.  They were practically set to music and they were audible.  For me, not audible in a supernatural or delusional/psychotic way (like hearing voices might be), though there are plenty of women whose mood disorder sadly brings about such features.  But, audible in the way that you can hear a speech you are trying to memorize and thus are repeating in your head over in over.  Like the facts that you try to cram into your brain 20 minutes before your History Final.  Sometimes they went something like this: "You're an awful mother.  You did a fine job in pregnancy, but you won't be any better than your mother was for you and your kid and husband would be better off to find someone new...sooner rather than later.  If only this child were your nephew.  You're a good Aunt.  But mother, no.  It's just not happening for you."  And other times they were more like this: "How could anyone with half a brain enjoy this?  This kid does nothing but take up all my time, prevent me from even getting a shower some days and he doesn't even respond to me.  I miss my friends.  I miss my life.  I miss ME!  Someone help me.  I take it back.  I am not cut out for this.  It was a mistake.  How could I have wanted this so badly?  It's not what I thought it would be.  Please HELP!"

A lot has happened between then and now.  Too much to include in one blog post.  But slowly, surely, and completely...those thoughts and feelings subsided.  The mental and physical symptoms weren't a part of my life anymore.  I never exactly found that me I cried out for then, but instead found a strengthened, committed, purpose-led me in her place.  There's more love in my heart, less judgment in my head, and a whole lot of faith sprinkled throughout.

Sure, I would have done things differently if I had the last 4 years to do over.  I'd be more prepared for motherhood than childbirth.  I'd focus less on what went "wrong" and more on all that is right in my life.  But, ultimately, seeing things clearly now isn't about knowledge, it's about perspective.  And from my point of view now looking at the past with joy is a whole lot more important than knowing things.  I'm less concerned with what I learned and more so with looking back and being able to smile.

What I'm Reading

Do you want to stay up to date on news about Perinatal Mood Disorders?  Do you want to read blog posts that provide insight into PPD and share personal stories of dealing with and recovering from mood disorders?  

I have created a Tumblr Blog so that you can enjoy reading all the articles and posts that I think are the best, most interesting and informative.  Let me do the work for you...just follow me on Tumblr or Twitter (where every page I tumble is tweeted).

Adoption after PPD

The other day, I linked through another blog to an adoption website specifically for Russian children with Down Syndrome.  On the site, the photos and descriptions of the children are captivating and I skipped the "fine print" to peruse those instead.  After taking in the sweet faces of the sometimes adorable and sometimes sad innocent babies, I began to pray.  About whether I could do that.  About what it means for a family when a special needs child comes into your life...especially one who will likely remain a part of your home for the remainder of your life and then need to be taken care of by someone else once you are gone.  For the parents that are considering adopting them.  For good, and patient, and loving homes.

When I scrolled back up to the top of the page, I realized that it didn't really matter any more whether I would consider adopting one of these children or whether I could offer them the type of home in which they could thrive with the love and care of a willing and eager parent.  I found this statement boldly posted in a bulleted list of policies:

"No history of mental health concerns (depression, anxiety, ADHD, bipolar, or other mental health issues)"

Well, I guess I am out.  Despite the fact that I am a perfectly sane, capable, loving, and if anything, over-achieving mother, I would probably never be allowed to pursue adopting one of these children.

We've talked about adoption and PPD here at Beyond Postpartum before.  And, it's always been in the context of Post-Adoption Depression or PAD.   But this is the first time that I contemplated what being a PPD Survivor might mean for future adoption options.  I mean, it's not like I have exactly kept my postpartum depression and anxiety disorder secret.  Seeing as to how I tell anyone and everyone who will listen about PPD, on the web and in person, I doubt it's something I could simply just leave off the application, right?  And really, I don't think I'd want to.  As you know, I believe that God has called me in this way to serve his people and glorify him on earth and hiding it would be far from keeping with my personal beliefs and values.

So, I need to do some research and I want to hear from you, the readers, too.  On the facts about adopting after PPD (something that many mothers who have experienced a very hormonal and physically related postpartum disorder often consider because of concerns about a future pregnancy).  And, on what you think about these policies and about adoption in general for people who have mental health issues, whether "temporary and treatable", like PPD, or more general like Bipolar Disorder, Depression and OCD.  If you are a PPD Survivor who has successfully adopted then please share your story!  How practical and probable an option is a successful adoption process for a Survivor Mama?

If I can't practice traditional "Attachment Parenting" does it mean my child won't be well-attached to me?

Before I had become a mother, I didn't read up much on parenting styles.  In fact, like so many of us, I was more concerned with every developmental stage in-utero and what type of Nursery decor I would be purchasing.  I like to compare my pregnancy to an engagement.  You know those brides...the ones who obsess about the centerpieces and forget almost entirely that the point to a wedding is beginning a marriage?  Yeah, well, despite the fact that I SO wasn't that kinda fiancee, I was totally that kinda pregnant lady.  I spent hours perusing crib ratings and we must have hit the baby furniture store that we finally decided upon nearly a half a dozen times before buying bedding.  I forgot to read about what the newborn stage would be like.  I failed to talk to people in depth, and truthfully, about what my postpartum body and mind might encounter.  I refused to even research cesarean births because I was so certain I would have a natural, vaginal one.  Yep...I was all ready for the "wedding" and even though the "groom" and "priest" were there, the church (don't think I need to spell this one out) was closed.  Ah, but I digress...point being that I was not prepared to be a sleep-deprived, sore, post-op patient when I brought my tiny bundle home.

Here I was, a few months into motherhood, finally being treated for PPD and wanting to try to make some mommy friends.  Since my child was years from being school-age, I knew I would have to make an effort to track down parents of children similar aged to mine myself.  So, I joined an online mommy group for people who live in Atlanta.  Within the group, there were subgroups based upon the area of the city in which you live, the age of your child and your parenting style. The online mommy group seemed perfect.  There were lots of interactions on discussion boards there, but more importantly, there were outings scheduled for the group nearly every day of the month.  Surely, I'd find a group of mamas to hang out with if only I attended a couple of these gatherings, right?  So, in addition to joining the appropriate group for my zip code, I applied to the attachment parenting group.  I thought, well, I wanted to do all the things they list here...and I gave them a shot, so that should count, right?  And when they asked, "Where does your baby sleep?" and "Is your child exclusively breastfed?" and "Do you wear your baby (and never put them in a swing or bouncy seat)?" I answered honestly to each question.  I shared that my circumstances hadn't allowed me to do those things, but that I thought I might still have some things in common with the group, what with my whole organic, natural childbirth attempting background and all.  It didn't take long for me to get a note back from the group moderator that told me directly that my application had not been accepted and that I was not an attachment parent by their standards. 

In hindsight, they were probably right.  The reality is that I tend to fall more on the middle of the spectrum when it comes to such things.  The past three years have taught me so much about adjusting expectations and efforts to suit the situation and to allow for a lot more gray area than I ever thought would be possible for me.  So, no, now I realize that I am not an attachment parent.  Partially because I wasn't able to do all the stuff that supposedly defines the method (like co-sleeping), but also because I have learned that a healthier place for my family to live is in a more traditional parent-child setting.  However, at the time I was devastated.  My mind, riddled with anxiety and endless concerns, equated attachment parenting with good parenting.  And that moderator's note might as well have said, "You suck...you aren't an attachment parent.  You don't fit in, you won't ever be a good mom...so stick it!"  That is exactly how I took the denied application at the time.  And you know, what?  It makes me sad, because I don't think I am the only first-time mom out there who confuses, subconsciously if not with awareness, attachment parenting with developing a good strong attachment with your child.

There's more to parenting and motherhood than slings and bed-sharing, my friends.  While I totally respect people whose goal is to encourage parent-child bonding and a more gentle, responsive style of parenting than most of us probably experienced as children, I also take pause.  We have to support each other in this journey regardless of the exact path that each of us chooses.  What works for one mama may do more harm than good for another.  And sometimes, like when a PPD mama is taking sleep meds, it actually IS safer and healthier for a baby to sleep in a crib than right in his mother's bed.  See, folks, I have yet to come across a parenting issue that is completely black and white.  So let's embrace, accept and celebrate the many shades of gray that make the world go round.

When a picture is worth one thousand words

This photo of my Dad and me was taken on the day that I thought I'd never get better. The day that I asked to be hospitalized. The day that I proclaimed I couldn't live "like this". I swore I'd never let it be seen again, but I want you to see it.  I want you to know where I recovered from.  It was Thanksgiving 2007.

This photo was taken Christmas of that same year, just four weeks later, 5 weeks into treatment for PPD.



This photo was taken last month at Disney World, just one month shy of my son's 3rd birthday.

There is hope. You will get better. This is my proof.

When you know...(alternatively titled: I ENJOY being a mom; can you believe it?)

For the past two plus years I have been fielding all sorts of questions around how one should know when feeling 100% and being 100% are one in the same.  The inquiries might have been worded in any of the following ways:

• How will I know when I am out of the woods?
• When will I be myself again?
• When will I be able to just be a regular mom?
• How can you tell the difference between a good day and recovery?
• When will my PPD go away?
• When can I stop looking back and just move forward?

These questions may read differently, but basically the bottom line is always the same.  Women simply want to know..."When I am going to be better???"  Unfortunately, I can't really answer that any better today than I could have last year.  But, I do have something to share about my own experience that I hope might be helpful or at the very least give you continued hope.

Being well, or basically free of pervasive symptoms of postpartum depression and anxiety, came much earlier for me than being well-adjusted to motherhood and finding joy in it.  Being able to wean from meds, manage life well, enjoy life in general, and even rebuild my marriage happened much sooner than managing dealing with the challenges of motherhood and the unpredictability of children.  For months and maybe even more than a year, I have been well.  I mean, normal me, well.  But, I didn't realize that it could and would get even better than that.  That I would be physically and mentally well AND be able to do more than just love my son, survive and plug through motherhood, and then go back to "my real life" in retirement!

Today friends, I am celebrating!  It's been a very, very long road.  Later this month, my son will turn three on my 34th birthday.  And words cannot express what I have been experiencing these past few months and weeks.  When I hold my son, I can now literally feel my heart filling with joy.  My chest tightens and a smile breaks thoughtlessly from my mouth.  When my son asks me to play, instead of sighing and asking for a couple more minutes in my own book or on the computer, I jump up from what I am doing, snuggle up with him and embrace the precious moment.  When a few more minutes of rocking before bed are requested, I close my eyes, breathe in his scent deeply, and find peace, instead of frustration, in being needed and loved by my child.

This, my friends is what it is all about!  THIS is motherhood.  This is wellness.  This is JOY!

Where do Faith and blogging intersect?

I love this post at BlogHer that addresses so perfectly the perspective of trying to find the balance and the blending of your faith and your writing.  While there are certainly Christian blogs...in fact I am currently helping the Sr. Pastor at our church begin the blogging journey...the majority of the blogs out there are written simply by people of faith who happen to blog.

So, does it really matter what religion you observe if you aren't necessarily writing about religious topics?  I would say yes, for most of us, it does.  I believe that one's faith directly impacts perspective and is the lens through which we see and evaluate the world.

For me, while I strive to keep this blog focused on its purpose and my mission, I would be very, very, neglectful and dishonest in a way, if I weren't to talk about my faith at least sometimes.  I wouldn't be sitting here if it weren't for my faith.  I definitely would not be blogging about this topic, were it not for my faith.  The very reason I do what I do is because of my faith.

As you probably know if you are a regular reader, I do the volunteer work that I do because it is a Call.  A Call in the sense that I believe God specifically asked me to do this work.  I believe that while He did not wave a magic wand and command a period of a couple of months of near-Hell on Earth for me, that He did walk along side me as I endured the circumstances of that unfortunate Hell.  And that He did give me strength, perseverance, an open mind and heart, and most of all an ability to let someone else drive the bus for a while, when needed.  I am kind of a control freak, if you haven't noticed.  It took incredible strength, and at the same time a realization that I was completely incapable for a period of time, for me to exit the decision making process when I was ill.  Allowing my doctor, my parents and my husband to determine everything from what I would eat, where and when I would sleep and what medications I would take was probably one of the most difficult and humbling things I will ever do.

Most importantly, though, God used what I endured and conquered to make good.  Not just for me.  Not just for my family.  But for the good of many.

Since I believe that the whole reason behind my writing is spiritual in nature, it is obvious to me that I consider my faith in and pray about the work that I do.  Yet, many of the women who might suffer from PPD will be of differing faiths or non-believers.  And yet, I am certain of this, if nothing else...when God called me to this work, he didn't indicate it was only for those who shared the same religion.  In fact, I am pretty sure he was quite clear to cast my net far and wide: beyond Atlanta, beyond the United States, beyond my circle of friends, and most assuredly beyond Christianity.

Here I am.  A Christian blogger.  Writing about PPD.  And praying to make a difference in your life.  No matter if my God is the one you call yours or not.