The Emory Women's Mental Health Program rings in the New Year with a new website

The Emory Women's Mental Health Clinic is a gem for Atlanta and a benefit for those in the Southeast United States and well beyond.  For years the program and its doctors and researchers have provided exceptional care to women in the metro area.  Recently, Dr. Zachary Stowe, who had begun the program in 1991 and led it for twenty years, accepted a position at the University of Arkansas.  Now led by its new Director, Dr. D. Jeffrey Newport, the program is rapidly changing and expanding.

The Clinic is a wonderful center of care for all women with mood issues, but particularly for women in the period of pregnancy and postpartum.  The Emory WMHP is an incredible resource where treatment specific to the needs of women at this stage and based upon decades of research and experience can be guaranteed.  If you or a family member or friend live in the Atlanta area and are pregnant, postpartum or considering becoming pregnant and are aware of risk factors you may have that could contribute to or exacerbate a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder, please visit the new website.

Here are some quick links for you:
Contact information 
Their blog- a new feature!
For new patients

I personally am so grateful for this resource, as I recommend nearly all the Atlanta women who contact me for referrals, to them.  I am also incredibly thankful to know Dr. Newport, Bettina and Jill personally, as they are the lifeblood (with the research assistants) of the program and are not only incredibly gifted, but truly wonderful people all around.

Happy New Year!

My holiday gift to you

This Christmas, I intend to share with you the best, the most important, gift that one can give a PPD Mama.  A gift of hope.  Not only of hope, but of confidence.

Today, I welcome someone who is not your typical guest blogger on a PPD site.  She's not a Survivor, though she is a mom.  And, she is the person who walked through pregnancy and postpartum with me not just once, but twice.  She's seen it both ways, friends.  Seen me at my worst.  She's bathed and fed my baby for me when I couldn't get off the couch and couldn't be in the same room with him without panicking.  She's also carried my placenta through a hospital to a nurse who encapsulated it, in an effort to help to prevent or lessen the effects of PPD the next time.

She, more even than I, knows who I am well and who I am very, very unwell.  What my symptoms and triggers are.  How family, friend and work dynamics, as well as everyday happenings impact me positively and negatively.  What my spiritual gifts are and are not.  Where I find strength and what drains me.  We've shared incredible moments of joy, grief, sadness, chaos and serenity over our seven year friendship.

I welcome my dear friend and "sister", J:

As I think back on the beginning of the postpartum time with L1, it frightens me still.  I remember seeing the blank stare on the face of my once-engaging and dynamic friend.  I recall spending day and night together for a period of time while she attempted to rest away from the baby, because his cries were anxiety-inducing triggers for her.  I remember coming over thinking I was there to help with baby so she could rest, and finding that it wasn’t rest she needed at that point, but something much more.  It was scary; I won’t lie.  I saw obsession over certain things with L1 and his care turn into ruminating conversations and I saw much sadness.  But as we (her family and close friends) rallied around her in the beginning and supported the plan of action in place, we began to see the light of her personality return.

Over time, we saw her return to normal.  But a new normal that was improved in some important ways.  She became one who was again in charge of her life.  Carrying the torch of PPD and becoming and active advocate for so many other Moms who struggle after babies.  She was the solid rock again; the one we knew and loved.  So much so, that I wasn’t completely surprised when I reached for my phone to read a text from her and saw a photo of a positive pregnancy test.  I had walked the journey of PPD with her during the first postpartum period and was thrilled to support her and the plan she thoughtfully laid out for L2’s arrival.  I was proud.  Proud of how she had matured in so many ways.  This plan was thought through, but not over-thought.  She gave space for change of mind and heart and allowed others to help. 

When I arrived at the hospital on the day of L2’s birth, I was delighted to hear of the success of the natural c-section birth.  It was exactly what she dreamed of.  However, I also began to see similar thought patterns very soon after.  Once again, her family and close friends gathered ‘round her bed (both literally and figuratively) to share our love and care with Amber.  There was a post-delivery plan in place for care if things seemed to go awry again and all were on board and ready to support.  I quickly began to see the light return to her eyes and a bond and love with L2 develop that was beautiful to see. 

I now enjoy watching how Amber has evolved as a woman and a mother.  She has become this thoughtful, relaxed and joyful Mom.  One who doesn’t fret if L2 will miss a nap for a fun event, who gives herself permission to spend a day sitting on the sofa watching movies and holding her baby joyfully.  She is again, new and improved. 

My message today is one of hope and confidence in what the future holds.  To steal a quote from my beloved pastor, “God will see, and God will provide.”  I believe this and have seen it in action a few short blocks from my house.  God saw the pain, anxiety and suffering and God provided. While the bond Amber shares with each of her babies is beautiful, she reached this place in two very different and wonderful ways.  Have confidence, friends.  Confidence and hope in the possibility of healing into a new and improved you.  I have seen a transformation in my dear friend and believe that it is possible.  The proof is right here in front of us, faithfully writing about her experience regularly.  Sharing her life so that the rest of us may have hope.

A special thanks to J for taking time our of her busy schedule at the holidays to reflect upon and write about the last four years.  I truly couldn't have done it without her.

Merry Christmas,

The Best of 2011

It's been an amazing year in PPD Support and Advocacy!  Dozens (and maybe even hundreds) of mamas began blogging about their experiences with perinatal mood and anxiety disorders on new or existing blogs.  Hundreds of mamas were support through social media like the fantastic Lauren Hale's #PPDChat.  And lots of us offered stories of honesty and hope, sharing about finally recovering from or overcoming PPD.  I even got to share my story about having a relatively PPD-free postpartum experience with my now 7 month old second child.

Sure, there have been, and continue to be, lots of challenges.  We hear from so many of you who don't have the insurance, disposable income or access to resources specific to PPD, which we all know are so key to a full and fast recovery.  There are still women who are isolated, abused, neglected or ignored by their partners or family.  There are still way too many women falling through the cracks because of lack of education or effort on the part of the medical community.  These are all things we can strive to address in 2012.  In the meantime, there are SO MANY things to celebrate.  Here are just a few:

• A lot of money was raised for the new non-profit, Postpartum Progress, Inc., thanks to the generosity of many of you!
• Project Healthy Moms, here in GA, continues to grow and thrive.
• Many lives were saved or made better by each of you as you supported on another on Twitter, Facebook and through your individual communications with one another.

Earlier in the week, Katherine Stone of Postpartum Progress announced her picks for top PPD posts of 2011. I was honored to be included in that list, especially considering the other amazing writers with whom I was listed.

As I close, I would like to share my favorite posts of the year.  These are posts that I most enjoyed writing or that I'd like to share again in case you might be a newer reader who missed them.

It's Okay; I love you.

Breaking the Cycle

Why do some moms care SO much how other people raise their kids?

Preparing for a positive postpartum experience: PART ONE AND PART TWO

BEST. DECISION. EVER.

(If I've left off one of your favorite Beyond Postpartum posts, please let me know and I will add it!)

Blessings for a wonderful holiday season.  I look forward to our journey in the New Year!

Insomnia and the Phantom Cries

In the early days after L1, I nearly drove myself crazy, errr...DID drive myself crazy obsessively refusing help from others with him at night and getting up at every single movement or peep.  We didn't have a baby monitor; we didn't need one.  Our room was right across the hall from his room.  And we have all hardwood floors.  And paper-thin doors and walls.

At first, I didn't even realize how often newborns wake at night.  Somehow my nannying never included overnight jobs and I had forgotten anything any other mom friends had mentioned about sleep deprivation.  I had been so focused on natural childbirth that I had failed to do any preparation for the 18+ years of parenthood that would follow a day or two of labor and birth.  Trust me, this was a huge mistake.  After a couple of weeks of little more than laying in bed awake waiting for the next waking, I started slipping into incredible anxiety which promptly was chased down and eventually inhabited by her evil, fraternal twin, depression.  As the story goes, I eventually became so ill that I reached out for help at nearly six weeks postpartum.

Part of the recovery plan, once we had a diagnosis (which took less than 10 minutes thanks to the severity and prominence of my symptoms), was to get as much sleep as possible.  Eventually this plan included me sleeping in the guest bedroom, door closed, earplugs in.  ALL NIGHT.  My brain wasn't yet retrained by the CBT, in fact I was barely capable of therapy at that point because I was so sleep deprived.  Also, I wasn't yet on the right medications to quell the racing thoughts and panic that peaked when it got dark and especially once the wee hours came around.  At 2, 3 or 4 am I would begin catastrophizing about the day that lie ahead and how slowly it might pass.

It was during these dark and very early morning hours that I would lay awake certain that I could hear my son crying.  That he was up again.  That my husband was certainly not doing things "the right way".  That since he wasn't a good night sleeper he wouldn't be a good napper.  That he would cry so much and so long that my husband would give him a bottle or pacifier and all my hard work to wean him from night feedings and the binky would be thrown down the drain.

Most mornings, which usually didn't come until 7:30am or so back then, my husband would bring my sleepy-eyed, grinning baby boy into the room with a heated bottle.  He'd snuggle him next to me so that I could hold him and feed him, even if I hadn't yet opened my eyes.  He wanted my son and I to be physically close to one another to breathe in each other's scent and know that peaceful time.  Even if I was was so ill that I didn't hold him again all day until I rocked him to sleep that night, I would know that we opened and closed our days together.  It was an incredibly thoughtful and intuitive gift that my husband, not usually adept at emotional subtleties, somehow instinctively knew we needed.

As far as I can remember, only on two days of those ten or so weeks in the guest room did my husband affirm my fears, that indeed my son had had a rough night.  That yes, he had been crying at 2:30am and was hard to console.  That indeed, he had opted to give him a small bottle to quiet him.

So what about all those other nights?  What about all the dread and worry?  What about those cries that I heard?  What about the wails that I was certain permeated the walls and doors and earplugs?  I guess those were (figuratively) the "demons" that PPA employs to rob us of the peace and sleep that we need to get better.  Those phantom cries must have been the real me screaming that she wanted to come back home.  That she wanted to console her son.  That she wanted to be able to sleep in the bed with her husband.  That she wanted to be well.

The Freedom of a Quiet Mind

A quiet mind cureth all. ~Robert Burton


This post is dedicated to my friend who is learning the gift of a quiet mind through her efforts in battling depression and anxiety.


My mind has never been quiet. As a five year old child, I remember laying in bed late at night pondering the meaning of life, being perplexed by being human in the first place and even overwhelmed and almost obsessed with Christ's crucifixion. Later in life, I would brainstorm all sorts of scenarios, including some very unhealthy but understandable daydreams about ways that I could escape my abusive situation.

As an adult, having freedom and control of my situation encouraged healthier ways of being until something went awry like a car accident, a break-up with a boyfriend or a family situation. When those things would happen, I would have difficulty focusing on anything but them and studying, engaging with friends and even watching TV with any attention was a struggle. Since life has ups and downs, hoping for everything to go my way didn't pan out to be a very effective mind-quieting strategy.

After having a baby, experiencing disappointing childbirth and breastfeeding experiences and then almost immediately being struck with severe postpartum depression and anxiety, my mind had had it. It became clear that I had to do something and that my own perfectionism and perceived self-control was not even going to begin to cut it. It took rock bottom for me to accept that I needed to allow medication and therapy be the vehicle by which I got well. I still had to put in the time and effort, but I also had to believe that the treatment would work...to accept it and then be sure not to fight it.

This second pregnancy and postpartum period have been a blessing for so many reasons. I was able to employ so many of the tools I had learned three years prior to help prevent exacerbating any PMAD I might encounter. I was able to learn how to set appropriate boundaries and determine who and what my triggers were so that I could use the techniques I had learned to cope. I practiced yoga and used self-talk regularly. I buoyed myself with the knowledge that I had survived a devastating postpartum experience once and that I could do it again if I had to. Thankfully, I didn't. I was able to cut PPD off at the pass this time, suffering from symptoms of severity for less than three weeks. It was proof that through learning how to quiet my mind I had changed my life and the ways I lived life with those around me.

Growing up in chaos, creating chaos as a form of self-medicating an "adrenaline addiction", being plagued by obsessive or racing thoughts or simply having a worrisome personality can result in a feeling that one has lost control of one's own mind. That the brain is somehow separate from the rest of the body and that while the soul longs for the peace, the mind simply can't comply.

This sense of a noisy mind can be troublesome at least and debilitating at worst. Lack of focus and concentration can impact daily life and our work, both inside and out of the home. It prevents us from living fully in the moment and negatively impacts our relationships with others. We harm ourselves by our lack of presence in our current state and time and others by constantly being distracted or unable to engage in conversation or activities fully with our loved ones.

I am sure there are lots of reasons for this and professionals could easily rattle off a list that includes trauma, genetic predisposition to anxiety and/or OCD, overwhelming stress, physical pain, major life change like a move, job loss, marriage or divorce or birth or adoption of a child. The cause is less important, in my opinion, than the solution.

Coping skills are important tools that each and every one of us, whether diagnosed or "diagnosable" with a mood disorder or not, could benefit from. With those whose lives have been overwhelmed by a noisy mind for decades, more significant treatment may be needed to re-wire or re-train our brains to operate in a different way. Since the mind often goes off on a tangent without much input from us, unless we make a conscious decision to change our thought patterns, it makes perfect sense that effort to transform the M.O. of everyday thinking would be time-consuming and take dedication.

Treatment for mood disorders like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy employs thought-stopping and replacing strategies that may even include physical gestures partnered with specific techniques focused on living in the "here and now". While CBT is not a quick fix, in a comparatively short period of time (often just a few months), relief from obsessive and negative thoughts can be achieved. Certified therapists offer this type of treatment, but other strategies that can be achieved on your own are available, too. A regular meditative or yoga practice, using workbooks focused on changed behaviors and obsessive thoughts, reading books about mindfulness, engaging in your faith community and reinforcing your own spiritual beliefs and talking with friends who can support your in your decision to change your way of thinking and being can be helpful.

Quieting one's mind, being in the moment to enjoy and be engaged in everyday life and the benefits to our physical health by literally and figuratively unwinding are reason enough to make today the first day of brain boot-camp. Let the little people that love you, look up to you and want and need your complete presence be the tipping point, the cherry on top of the sundae or the last straw to being imprisoned by irrational, negative or obsessive thoughts. A healthy mind, and as a result a healthy body, are wonderful gifts that you can give yourself this holiday season.

How do you quiet your mind?

Namaste,