What would you like me to ask the experts about PPD?

Next week I am thrilled to be traveling to the PSI/Marce Society Annual Conference, which is coincidentally in my hometown!  It is my first live Postpartum Support International event and I can't wait to meet some of the folks that I have gotten to "know" so well over the past couple of years of learning, writing, and advocating about perinatal mood disorders.  I am also stoked to see of the ladies that I know already, but whom I get to see too rarely.  When we get together a flurry of great ideas for ways to support new moms, educate and create awareness always fly!

With all of the professionals and experts who dedicate their lives to helping women and families in one place, there will surely be lots of new and interesting things to learn.  Of course, I am excited to spend time with other people who care about this cause and to learn from them.  But, I also am going to hopefully serve you.  During the meetings, meals and breaks, there will certainly be opportunities to ask questions of both folks who have worked with women coping with mood disorders and researchers who study the academic and scientific side of things.  This will be a rare opportunity for me to get answers "right from the horse's mouth".

So, what do you want to know?  What can I ask on your behalf?  What would you like me to learn more about so I can write posts that interest and help you when I return?  Even if you can't be there next week, I want you to benefit from this opportunity...SO SHOOT!  Check out the conference agenda for ideas (for example, I'll be attending sessions on effective support groups, screening and referrals and treatment options). Comment below or send me an email with your specific question and I will do my best to bring back information for you.

p.s. If you, too, are headed to the conference, please let me know!

Take good care,

More of Guest Blogger Maura's Story...

Last week, we read a compelling, heart-wrenching and sometimes too close to home account of Maura's postpartum experience.  Today, I wanted to share the rest of her story...an interview of sorts:


How are you helping mothers today, using the experience you have had personally?
Being willing to be vulnerable enough to post about this here is a start.  I’ve also been trying to get more involved with Postpartum Support International and have done research on becoming a coordinator.  On one of my worst days I called 1-800-944-4PPD and was connected with a local coordinator who told me her story.  I remember how much better I felt after hearing that I wasn’t alone in all that I was going through.  I’d love to be the woman on the other side this time, telling a new mom in crisis that she will get better.

As a mom of a child who is past infancy, what do you say to new moms who feel like the baby stage is going to last forever? 
Everyone told me to cherish these moments because they don’t last forever.  That really is true!  I have to remind myself that same thing when there are moments that I really don’t cherish and can’t wait until she’s past a certain stage.  It seems that every month there is something new that is annoying and something new that I love.  I just know that they both pass pretty quickly, so try to focus on the things I love.

How has faith played a role in your recovery?
Faith has been everything in my recovery!  At first I was just dumbfounded that God would allow me to go through all of this and why having a baby was just so extremely difficult for me.  I had my moments of being mad at God for sure.  But at my worst, I prayed harder than I probably ever have before.  The Pastors and Elders at my church came over to my house more than once to pray with me.  I have a wonderful church family who surrounded us with help, made food for us, and prayed for us.  I also remember searching on Amazon.com one night for books on Postpartum Depression, especially one that was written by a Christian.  I found one titled The Lifter of My Head: How God Sustained Me During Postpartum Depression, but when I saw that it was written by a women who spent time in the psych ward, I instantaneously wrote it off as not a good source because I was determined to not go to the psych ward. The next morning is when I hit my worst, and headed there myself.  When I came home, I bought the book.  :)  The book really is encouraging and has a lot of scripture references that are encouraging.  We all have our storms to endure, and I sure couldn’t endure them without God!

What is your favorite parenting moment? 
Any time I can make my daughter giggle!  I just love hearing her giggle.  It has to be the best sound in the world!

If someone is suffering from PPD, what do you think is the most important thing they can do to expedite their recovery? 
Seek help and don’t be ashamed.  I was so embarrassed by the fact that I had a therapist and a psychiatrist because those things in my mind were for unstable, irresponsible fruit loops (and I view myself as the exact opposite).  But after my appointments with my therapist, it really was nothing more than talking to someone with experience and knowledge who shared with me ways to help me feel better.  Having a psychiatrist is just a specialist for your mood/behavior.  I would go to a specialist for any other physical ailment.  So what is wrong with seeing one for your brain?

I’d also tell her that it is not her fault, and she WILL get better!  I said that over and over again to myself, because thankfully many reminded me that I would get better and I had to choose to believe it.  Also, I totally wish that I knew initially that anxiety was part of “postpartum depression.”  I think I would have sought help sooner if I knew that it did. One of the first things my therapist told me is that she wishes that “postpartum mood disorders” is what we all would use instead.  I think the more this issue is discussed the more PPMD will be the term, and not just PPD.

I also want to encourage women to not hold anything against those who say to you, “Yeah, I cried for a week after my son/daughter was born, too.  Baby blues happens to everyone.”  I heard that a few times and wished more women understood PPD.  But you really can’t understand it unless you have gone through it or have seen someone close to you go through it.

What would you say to a new mom, if you could only share one thing? 
In the end, it’s all worth it.  No, I never ever, ever, ever, want to go through something like this ever again.  But I wouldn’t change it since I have a beautiful daughter who is the best gift I have ever received!

Guest blogger Maura shares her story of Postpartum Depression and Anxiety

This week we'll be reading Maura's story.  Maura contacted me several months ago and asked if she could share here.  As a blogger, she's written a lot of posts, but she wanted this one to be read by those who could be touched directly by her story.  I am honored that she chose Beyond Postpartum as the place to do that.

Here's Maura's story:
Before my daughter was born, I was a high school science teacher and cheerleading coach.  During those years I desperately wanted to get married and start a family, so when I met my husband and we were settled in a house, I was very ready to start a family.  We actually conceived a few months before we were planning on “trying” which threw me somewhat for a loop.  But that pregnancy, along with one after that, ended as miscarriages.  Those were devastating times for me to say the least.  But I never imagined in my wildest dreams that actually giving birth to a healthy baby would have been way more difficult for me!

I had a relatively stress free pregnancy once I found out I made it past the first trimester. Things didn’t start to get “interesting” until I found out my baby was breech. I always thought she was because of the bladder dancing she did and I never had annoying feet pokes in my ribs.  But by 36 weeks, my midwife assured me that she was head down, and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing she managed to find the right position for delivery.  A week before my due date, I had another check-up, and told by another midwife (I go to a practice that has 9 rotating midwives) that she was in fact breech and I had an ultrasound to confirm it.  At that point, I had a decision to make:  I could either attempt an external version to see if we could get her head down again, or schedule a c-section.  I decided I had to at least try the external version, so I didn’t give up all hope of my goal of having a natural delivery.  Luckily the version only took 5 minutes of extreme pressure and pain and the doctors got her turned.  When the procedure was complete, one doctor told me her head wasn’t in the perfect place for delivery, but hopefully it would get in the right spot either before labor or during labor.  A few days after that my water broke and the contractions started right away.  After about 6 hours, I was already 8 cm dilated and the whole experience seemed to be going as I had wanted it to.  This is the part where everything turns ugly...

I remember when I got checked and was told I was at 8cm, I looked at my doula in desperation and said, this is the part that is supposed to go fast, right?  I thought I was finally in transition and the end was in site.  But her bad head alignment came back to haunt me and I stayed at 8cm for like 12 more hours!!  I was defeated with the lack of progress and a few hours of staying at 8cm, I requested, or should I say demanded, drugs to help me get to the end.  My midwife suggested Nubain because I seemed so close to the end and the epidural might slow things down and she knew I wanted to do this as naturally as possible.  One thing I do know is that I am very sensitive to drugs, which is why I wanted a drug-free delivery.  The Nubain hit me hard and I felt like I wasn’t there – like extremely, almost passed out, drunk.  I had no energy to get up and work through contractions and actually started having panic attacks because I didn’t know where I was. The Nubain barely took any of the pain away and I totally regretted using that as a pain management option.  Hours passed with no progression and I eventually got the epidural and Pitocin drip.  My midwife told me to sleep until it was time to push.  I couldn’t sleep much though because I was impatient and anxious and I kept wondering how much longer I would have to endure this.  At some point, the epidural stopped working in one spot in my back, so then I couldn’t sleep at all because each contraction just felt like someone was stabbing me in the back.   Finally, 21 hours into this, my midwife said I was close enough to being fully dilated and that I could try pushing.  I did so for about an hour and had nothing left in me and I just remember screaming to just cut her out of me to end the misery.  Eventually forceps were used and after 22 hours of labor, she was born.  It was actually one day off from the previous year’s miscarriage.  It was a huge relief getting her out and the contractions being over, but I was so literally exhausted and traumatized that I didn’t even care that much to see my baby.

After she was born, they quickly whisked her away to get her Apgar score and weight.  My husband made calls to our family, and I just laid there crying and feeling exhausted, but relieved it was over.  They spent over an hour sewing up my 3^rd degree tear. I had no idea at the time what a “3^rd degree tear” meant and what I’d have to later endure with that.  I didn’t know that I would be taking ibuprofen daily for the next three months while I waited for it to heal.  I also now know that I have repair surgery in my future because it tore down into my sphincter muscle.

I was in shock that at that point I had to take care of a newborn.  I knew the first step to successful motherhood was feeding my baby and I had to dig deep for energy to do so.  I did try to nurse her as soon as I could, but she wasn’t suckling at all, so we sent her to the nursery to get “suckle training” while we tried to sleep that first night.  Before the delivery, I was adamant about keeping her in the hospital room with us. I was honestly relieved though when the nurse told me that I had been through enough, that I needed sleep, and that they would take care of her that night and bring her in my room for feedings.  I still had to get up and go to the bathroom numerous times throughout the night since they gave me so many fluids during the delivery.  That made for very interrupted sleep, even without the baby in the room.  I could barely walk because I was so swollen and in so much pain, so heading to the bathroom was quite the chore.  Needless to say, I did not feel rested and ready to take care of a newborn that next morning!

Nursing her the next day still didn’t go the best, so one of the lactation consultants gave me a nipple shield because I found out that she was tongue tied and I had “small nipples,” making a bad combo for good latching.  I tried to not let the unsuccessful nursing bother me too much, as I knew it was early and we had time to work things out.  I did though just want some rest and felt like I just couldn’t get any.  People kept coming in, nurses to check vitals, midwife to check on me, photographer for pictures, food staff to ask what I wanted for meals, family visiting and I just wanted to scream and kick everyone out so I could get some sleep.  My daughter started looking a bit yellow that day and blood tests were taken that showed her bilrubin counts were borderline UV light worthy.  Another issue was brought to light when a nurse briefly mentioned to me that I could get a transfusion if I wanted because my red blood cell count was low from losing so much blood during delivery.  Transfusion?  Seriously??  No one talked about that in my birth classes.  No thanks, I’ll pass.  I’m fine.

I still sent her to the nursery the second night because I really just wanted another chance to catch up on sleep so I could somewhat feel like my head was above water.  I did sleep better that night, but I felt pretty guilty for not wanting her in the room with me.

The day we were supposed to go home, we couldn’t because her bilirubin levels were too high and she needed to go under the lights for at least 24 hours.  Now since nursing was still not going well and she was now getting dehydrated under lights, they had to cup feed her formula.  I remember seeing uric acid in her diaper and it looked like she urinated some blood because of the red tint in the diaper.  It was told by our checkout nurse that that was a sign of dehydration and we really needed to supplement with formula until my milk came in.

Once we were home, her feedings were taking over an hour and we were still setting the alarm every 3 hours to feed her because she was dehydrated.  She would nurse on me for 30-40 minutes, and then still take an ounce our two of formula out of a cup.  Cup feeding is tricky and very frustrating, especially when you are lacking sleep.  Both my husband and I were zombies and finally we said that we couldn’t handle these long feedings anymore and said goodbye to the cup and gave our hungry daughter what she needed in a bottle.  So I still fed her like that for a couple more days.  I kept wondering what “let down reflex” felt like and why I wasn’t making much milk.  My breasts hardly felt full of milk and I was wondering why I was even wearing breast pads because I certainly was not leaking.  I kept pumping in between feedings to stimulate more milk production, but would make maybe an ounce total from both breasts, after about 30 minutes of pumping.

During the next few nights, I kept waking up in the middle of the night feeling horrible.  I was sweaty and shaky and felt like I had the flu.  I thought it was because I had low blood sugar because I was barely eating and was still sweating out fluids from the IV.  I would just start worrying about what was wrong with me and couldn’t fully rest, even if my daughter was peacefully sleeping.  I think this went on for another two days until I reached my max.  One week after she was born, I woke up feeling so horrible that I couldn’t get out of bed and I just kept telling my husband over and over again to call 911 because I couldn’t get out of bed and there was really something wrong with me.  I remember not having the energy anymore to cry, but I just wanted to because I couldn’t believe how horrible I felt.

The ambulance came and I went back to the emergency room at the hospital where I delivered.  I told them that I was told that I could have had a transfusion after my daughter was born, and maybe now it was really time to get one.  They did diagnose me with extreme insomnia and anemia.  I remember one of my midwives coming to check on me and she told me that I really needed to get some sleep because she was concerned about me dipping into Postpartum Depression.  Depression?  I’m not Depressed!!  I’m just tired and anxious!!  I really wish that day she would have told me that anxiety was part of the PPD diagnosis!  I got two pints of blood and sleeping medication so I could get back on my feet and recover.  A close friend of mine (and my doula) actually took care of my daughter that day and night.  I tried pumping that day, but was also trying to sleep and I knew I had to “pump and dump” because of the sleeping medication they gave me.  I went home that night and got some solid sleep by the next morning I felt great and was back in the game, except in the area of feeding her.  I still knew deep down that I wasn’t making enough milk for her.  I did feel somewhat better about nursing though because the doctor told me that since I was so anemic, my body was trying to make blood, not milk.  Since I had the transfusion, I was told that I would now see an increase in my milk supply.

Evening time became a challenge for me mentally.  I remember that as soon as the sun went down, I would just start to have anxiety attacks for now particular reason.  Then I would start having uncontrollable, irrational thoughts obsessing over lack of sleep and lack of milk to feed my daughter.  I didn’t want to take sleeping medication anymore because I was still trying to nurse her and I didn’t want to have to “pump and dump.” Plus, I didn’t want to rely on sleep meds, I just wanted to feel normal.  I’d sleep ok for the first couple of hours at night, but knew I’d have to wake up to feed her and then I’d just go into panic mode and couldn’t sleep again after she ate.  I would still feel very shaky and flu-like.  I was also having the worst nightmares I’ve ever experienced in my lifetime.

After a few more days of this, I eventually called my midwife in tears, because I just couldn’t pull it together.  Even if I did have a chance to nap, I would just lay there and my heart would race and was just in a constant state of anxiety.  My midwife and suggested that I try taking Xanax to control some of my anxiety.  When I took it, I felt loopy and slept for 2 hours, but since it was middle of day, I woke up not knowing where I was and was all sweaty and panic attacks continued.  I was upset that once again, a medicine that was supposed to calm my nerves, actually made me feel worse.  I was also told by my midwife that she was concerned that I was showing signs of PPD and that I could start taking an SSRI.  She warned me that it could take 2-8 weeks for them to work.  I hadn’t found relief with any medication thus far, and since it took so long to work, it was not the solution I was looking for.  My parents took her for a night to give me a break and try to get some sleep.  I took Ambien again just so I could try and regulate myself.  I still had to get up to pump in the middle of the night to try and keep my supply even though at this point, a week and a half after she was born, I still never felt any let down reflex and had barely any milk.  I still let her nurse on me 30-45 minutes and tried to pump in between feedings, so I was doing everything I could to stimulate milk production. After what was supposed to be a night of a break, it just turned into another night of insomnia.

My unhealthy, obsessive thoughts continued.  Here is a sample of my racing mind: 

My husband needs sleep because he still needs to go to work so I can’t bother him with what I need, I need to stop thinking irrationally, I need to be a good mom and I feel like I can take care of her or even want to take care of her, I need sleep, I need to recover physically, I don’t want to eat nor do I ever have time to eat, what if she doesn’t sleep and I don’t sleep, I don’t want to think about the nightmare of the birth anymore, what if there is something else wrong with me like a thyroid issue or vitamin deficiency that is causing these thoughts and feeling physically ill, maybe I just have severe “baby blues” and I’ll be fine, I don’t want to have nightmares anymore, I never want to have kids again, how will I do this again because I know I want more kids, I guess we’ll have to adopt for our second child, antidepressants take 2-8 weeks to work and I can’t wait that long for relief, I don’t want to take any more drugs, why do drugs make me feel worse, I’m not made to be a mother, I hate the newborn stage and just want to get past 2 months where she’s sleeping through the night and I don’t have to change a million diapers in one day, when will I ever get a routine, when can I ever just go grocery shopping, when will I get more normal life back?

I’m sure the list could go on and on, but that is what I was thinking – all day long.  So that night, I finally made the choice, with the support of my midwife, my doula, and all of my family, to give up nursing and go to bottle.  I gave nursing all I had and it wasn’t working and at this point my daughter needed a mentally healthy mom more than she needed breast milk.  So I thought that would relieve enough stress to take me out of panic mode.  Well, it didn’t, and over the next two days, I went downhill even further.  I spent both days at my parents house while my husband was at work.

I did decide to start taking Zoloft, but had to survive extreme dark hours where I really just wanted to die.  I tried so hard to want to take care of my daughter, but I didn’t even want to be around her. I hated that drug. I really felt better after it was out of my system.  So the next day I switched to Paxil.  Since I was no longer trying to breastfeed, my treatments options widened because I no longer needed to just try drugs that were safe for nursing (as Zoloft is marked safe for nursing and Paxil is not.).  I still took Ambien at night, but it didn’t help me sleep the whole night.  My parents even took care of her again for another couple of nights because at this point I was virtually incapable of taking care of her at all.

The next morning, I realized I had hit rock bottom and couldn’t go on.  I begged my husband to take me to the psychiatric ward to get evaluated, which is what midwives recommended I do two days prior, and I finally gave in.  I really didn’t want to go, didn’t want to get admitted, but reality was it was either this or die.  I really, really wanted to die at this point.  I’ll clarify though that I wasn’t suicidal because I still couldn’t take my own life.  I just kept begging God to heal me or kill me and I fully meant the “kill me” part.  My husband took me and the whole time I just kept apologizing to him because he had to take another day off of work and that I was a horrible mother who couldn’t take care of my baby.  I think being in the psychiatric ward getting evaluated was the scariest thing I had ever done.  Looking back on it now, it really wasn’t a big deal.  But I had never felt so much fear and panic and anxiety in my life.  After my evaluation, which was just a bunch of questions from the staff, they said they had other medication options to try as I clearly needed something else to treat me.  I DID NOT want to spend the night there, but they wouldn’t let me try a new drug unless I committed to staying one night for evaluation.  I said I did not want to be in that particular impatient department where there was, as I said, “yelling and craziness from other patients” because I just wanted to sleep.  They did let me stay in the quieter outpatient area and I was allowed to even let a friend stay with me because I was so scared to be alone.  As soon as I was “their patient” they gave me Klonopin for the anxiety – and within a half hour, tears of joy streamed down my face because I felt normal and happy for the first time since before my daughter was born. It worked like instantaneously and it finally gave me a clear and relaxed state of mind that I was looking for.  They gave me a different sleep medication that wouldn’t make me “hung-over” in the morning like Ambien did and would help me sleep the entire night, and not just half of the night.  I was able to sleep for 11 hours straight and it was amazing!  I felt awesome and just wanted to get home the next day because I was dying to see my baby.  That was the first time in like a week that I actually wanted to be with her!

At this point, I thought that I finally had the answer and I would be fine.  I didn’t know then though that it would be like another 8 months until I 100% felt like myself again.  For the first few months I had good days, and bad days, and just woke up everyday wondering how I was going to keep myself busy so I didn’t have a bad day.

I had decided to not go back to my teaching job, so I could be a full time stay-at-home-mom.  I love it now, but in the beginning it was quite an adjustment to not be “needed” outside of the home.  I actively sought out social outlets and activities to keep me busy.  My goal was to get out of the house at least once every day.  I kept taking Paxil, along with Klonopin every night and when I needed it during the day.  Once the Paxil was fully working (which took about 2 months), I really wanted to get off of it because I heard the nightmare stories of how bad it is getting off of it (which I can attest to because I have been slowly decreasing my dose for the past 4 months and withdrawal symptoms are not fun.).  Plus I wanted to know which drug would work for me in case I needed one in the future for another baby that would be safe for nursing if I ever wanted to try and nurse again.  So I tried Celexa.  I slowly went down on Paxil and then slowing increased Celexa.  I could see myself slipping back into more of a depression and was finding myself wanting to take more Klonopin to avoid panic attacks.  It was a gradual relapse, but I definitely relapsed into an unhealthy state.  When my daughter was about 4 months old, I remember telling my husband that he better get me some help or the next day he’d come home to a dead wife and a crying baby.  I definitely wanted to die again.  I still didn’t think I could actually take my own life, but I was thinking of ways how I could and just flirting with those thoughts meant I was in real danger.  I instantly went off Celexa and went back to Paxil.  Literally the next day after the Celexa was out of my system, I felt fine.

I did struggle though all winter because of the lack of sunshine and just felt very down when there was lack of sun.  As soon as daylight’s saving time hit in NY, which was mid-March, I’ve felt 100% back to normal again.  I now understand people who suffer from seasonal affective disorder.  I used to just roll my eyes at people who mentioned that they had to go on an antidepressant because it was winter.  Heck, I used to roll my eyes when someone mentioned depression and just thought they should take a pill or get a life so that they wouldn’t be depressed.  Let’s just say that my compassion for those battling depression has sky-rocketed!!
I’m still very much battling fear for when I’m ready for baby #2.  I know for sure I want to have one more baby, but I do not want to be dependant on drugs and just want to be 100% set free from all of this!  I’m still trying to do more research on other women’s experiences when they try again for a baby after PPD recovery.
Now that it’s in the middle of the summer, I’m almost off of Paxil, rarely take Klonopin, and my life is very much enjoyable.  It’s hard for me to believe that I’m writing all of this and it was about exactly a year ago when all of this happened!  I’ve come a long way!!!!!!!

**Even though I mentioned in my story the drugs that helped me feel better, I have to say to not use me as a reference as to what will work for you or for someone you know.  Everyone’s body is different and everyone responds differently to medications available for treatment.  Finding the right drug combo is an art form, not a science.  That was a tough process that for me, and was NOT FUN!  But I am thankful for the drugs.  I remember my Pastor telling me a story about the grandmother of a close friend of hers who suffered from PPD. She was taken away from her home in a straight jacket and admitted into a mental institution.  This was probably close to 80 years ago when that was the only “treatment” a woman could get.  She caught Tuberculosis in the institution and died.  I hate the fact that I had to take an SSRI or anti-anxiety medication, but I sure am thankful for the treatment options we have available today!!!

Later this week, I'll post an interview with Maura in which she shares about her life now and her advice to new moms.  Thanks again, Maura, for your open and honest approaching to telling your story!

Taking care of yourself is not selfish

There are so many reasons that a mom (new or otherwise) may not "do" for herself.  

• Lack of time.  
• Fatigue.  
• A feeling that she is not worth making the effort.  
• A concern that she should not be away from her children.  
• Worry about spending money on herself.
  The list goes on and on...

But I promise you, the list of reasons why a mom SHOULD care for herself is much more extensive.  Just like the classic airplane oxygen mask analogy, a mother is better equipped to care for her family when she is getting what she needs.  There are many, many things that moms can do to focus on caring for themselves so they are better able to tackle their other responsibilities (yes, self-care is a responsibility) with more capability and a more positive attitude.  Here are some ideas...and many of these are free and you don't even have to leave your home to do them:

• Deep, yogic breathing.  Spending time concentrating on nothing other than your breath can center you, as well as provide much needed oxygen to your brain and organs.
• Stretch.  Spending time loosening up tense muscles can release stress and prevent injuries such as back pain (which often results from repeatedly lifting and carrying children).
• Get fresh air.  Getting outside, even if it must be on a walk with your children, is good for body and soul.  The vitamin D from sun exposure can give you a boost.  The fresh air can also increase your oxygen intake and being outdoors can sometimes provide a new or different perspective from the one you might have had indoors surrounded by laundry and dishes.
• Do things that you enjoy.  Even if you are feeling depressed right now, it will be good for your body and mind to engage in doing activities that have brought you joy in the past.  Used to draw or paint?  Feeling less than inspired?  That's okay; get out the pencils or brushes and just create without judgment.  It will remind you of a time in your life when you felt good...and who knows, maybe you'll actually find some joy again.
• Look at attractive or soothing images.  Scroll through family photos of a vacation from years ago or think of an image that you like and then google it.  Choose your favorite and print it for your refrigerator or make it your screensaver.  Looking at things that bring positive feelings repeatedly to the surface can be healing.
• Select and read verses or mantras that inspire and calm you.  Have a favorite Bible verse or mantra that brings you peace or joy?  Type it onto attractive paper, print it and frame or mount it.  Hang it in the most visible place in your home.  Read and re-read it multiple times each day.  Sometimes doing so can help you live yourself into that very mindset and belief.  One that inspires me about a difficult time in my life and especially dealing with PPD is something a Twitter pal mentioned in #PPDChat a few months ago.  It's simple, but powerful.  "This is not forever."  I like to repeat it over and over, changing the word of emphasis each time.
• Occasionally, treat yourself to a pedicure or massage.  Your child isn't the only one who deserves something special once in a while.  Even if you have to sacrifice a dinner out or you need to choose to re-wear that black dress rather than buy a new one for an upcoming event, you'll be glad you chose to spend your $ on something that will remind you how very much you are worth caring for yourself and having someone care for you, too.

Bottom line...Well mama=Well family.  Taking care of yourself is actually one of the most selfless things you can do when you are doing it so that you can be in the best physical and mental health when approaching caring for your family.  Take time each day to focus on you...you'll be glad you did!

This post was inspired by the 21 Day Self-Care Challenge that many Survivor Mamas are engaging in and writing about.  You can read more ideas and get the details at:

Postpartum Progress

My Postpartum Voice

Ivy's PPD Blog

Was your PPD a Perfect Storm or a Tornado?

Categorizing your experience with a perinatal mood disorder is probably a challenging task.  Since PMDs are so unique to the individual fitting them into diagnoses like PPOCD or PPA can be a challenge for even professionals.  But, as I was thinking about the way that PPD hits us I realized that most women I've come across in these past couple of years have described their experience one of two ways: a conglomeration of a dozen or more sets of circumstances that like mine would have made NOT having had a PMD more unlikely than suffering or a storm that hit suddenly without warning.

In the "perfect storm", social, emotional and physical circumstances blend together to create a scenario that is ripe for chaos and turmoil.  Like in my case, a woman might have a childbirth she experienced as traumatic, a long or complicated labor, a set of family or social circumstances that is stressful, physical challenges or complications immediately postpartum, breastfeeding difficulties, a seasonal environment that doesn't allow for time outdoors or fresh air, and/or a family history of mental illness.  Of course, that is a unique recipe, but you get my point about risk factors piling up and exhaustion, illness, and disappointments aplenty.

In the tornado, a mama is going along for days, weeks, or months normally.  Then, like a violent twister that forms in mere seconds, the depression, anxiety or obsessions hit out of nowhere and the mother is thrown into the eye of the storm, caught completely off guard and unaware.  She doesn't know which way is up, can't imagine what could have changed so significantly to make her feel like a switch that has been flipped and that now she can't find to reset.

When you reflect on your PMD, which scenario fits better?  Was your experience a perfect storm of circumstances or a twisting tornado?

Then...and Now

Then...
I thought to myself, "When's this kid going to be old enough to go to school?  Things will be better once he's off to school everyday."
Now...
I think things like, "Thank God he only goes to school two mornings a week.  When would we get to do all these fun things if he was in school everyday?"

Then...
I thought, "If this kid doesn't take a nap I am going to throw away all his toys and make myself a stiff drink."
Now...
I think, "If he doesn't nap we'll just go to the playground and get some fresh air.  I'll put him to bed early and have some time to myself this evening."

Then...
I thought, "This will never get better.  I won't ever feel like me again.
Now...
I celebrate the me I am and smile just thinking about my life.

Then...
I scheduled childcare as often as possible.  I literally looked for ways to kill time away so that I didn't have to spend a whole day with my child.
Now...
I spend whole weeks with my son without any childcare.  I only schedule it for when I absolutely need it (like during my office hours or for a date night with my hubby).

Then...
I wouldn't let anyone else feed him or put him to sleep.  They might have done it wrong.
Now...
I find the me-time when I have help with a meal or bedtime glorious and I don't bat an eye when someone does things completely different than I would.

Then...
Nary a conventional food passed my child's lips.
Now...
I opted to give him a s'mores flavored granola bar for breakfast this morning because I just didn't feel like making eggs.  (And, when organic isn't available it doesn't send me into a tailspin anymore.)

Then...
I couldn't imagine life would ever feel normal as long as I had a child at home.
Now...
I'd rather have a tooth extracted than even think for one second about life without him.

Then was before.  Before I knew how good it could be.  When I thought it would be bad or I'd have to settle for mediocre at best.  Now is real.  Now is good.  


Now is my life.