I knew awhile before I had my daughter that I was going to end up with postpartum depression. I wasn't trying to claim it - but I knew my chances were greater already being depressed, and not being on medication, I didn't have anything to help me cope with the wave of emotions that come with having a child and transitioning into motherhood.
So, what seemed like a bout of baby blues the first few weeks has turned into this - yesterday I told my Husband I didn't want to be here. And for awhile, I thought "here" was in the situation - just having a hard time adjusting to being a parent, and not having confidence in my abilities as a mother (you'd think I'd be over it after surviving the first three months, which are said to be the hardest...but no; smh). Then I thought about it, and the more I thought about it, I realized that that wasn't what I meant.
I've lost interest in pretty much everything that's not related to the baby. Not that I have the means to do anything anyway, but if I did, I don't even want to. I only eat once a day...sometimes I don't even do that - considering I was a food junkie before (and that you pretty much die if you don't eat), this is a drastic change.
I cry...a lot. Sometimes I go from being sad, to angry, to furious - but never happy; I haven't felt happy in a very long time. If you're wondering, I never take it out on the baby; in fact, I'm the epitome of patience with her. I have no feelings towards anything - I feel like I'm just living, but not for a purpose. And it seems like it's one bad thing after another happening to my family (hence, me writing this instead of being omw to work because of the stupid shutdown). In general, I feel a disconnect from everything I once held dear to me. So, it finally occurred to me last night that although I haven't actually done anything, I've been behaving like a person that plans on ending her life...and for me, that is R O C K B O T T O M.
I went to a therapist - I have another session coming up. At the last session, she said that I have something I have to prove to myself, but I don't know what it is. Well, at this session, I think I'll be able to tell her I have one thing to prove - that I am stronger than this illness. I have someone's life on the line other than my own, and I can't let them down. I can be the worst at everything else in the world, but I have to do right my them.
I never meant to feel this way...I don't want to be sad all the time. I want to get better; I really do. I made a promise to myself to not get back on meds til I was done breastfeeding though, so that puts me in a bit of a bind as far as treatment, which is why therapy is probably my only option right now...and prayer. I can admit I haven't been doing that. I'm having a bit of a Job moment right now - wondering why I'm suffering. I guess I now need to get to the point where I realize that it's all for a purpose, and that I can get through it. But it's hard to see the sunshine through the clouds.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
The Day the Earth Stood Still...at Least for Me: the Birth of Kaitlyn Aurelia Junior
It's my 1st wedding anniversary (Go Juniors!!!). I spent the first couple of hours crying my eyes out from lack of sleep and immense pain, followed by an early morning trip to the ER from the pain I was having-what a way to celebrate the 1st 365 days right?
But right now, as I look at KJ and Katy sleeping, I can honestly say it's totally worth it, all of it, even if it didn't seem like that at the time. While Katy is doing one of her short sleep sessions, I wanted to get down as much of her birth story as I could-after awhile, you start to forget bits and pieces. So, here it is: how my Katy came to be.
Contractions...Should be Considered Capital Punishment
Now, most of you know that I was already over being pregnant by week 37, so by the time I hit 40 weeks the day before, I was at my wits end with trying to figure out how to get this kid out of me. KJ and I tried everything: spicy food, pineapples, walking...more walking, sex...more sex...nothing seemed to be working. We would go to those stupid weekly appointments just to hear "1cm...but you'll get there eventually". Finally, we were able to get an induction date for the 11th. We went to bed early on the 10th to give ourselves some energy since we had to arrive at the hospital at 5:30am the next day. I of course, because of what I thought was nerves, couldn't sleep, and woke up at 12:30am on the 11th. I should have known then that something was about to happen.
First, I had a couple of BH (braxton-hicks) contractions...same old stupidness I was used to, and I paid no attention to them. About an hour later, after dozing off for a few seconds, I found myself screaming ouch...a few minutes later, OUCH...WTF!!! By then, KJ woke up to see what was wrong with me - I told him I thought I was having real contractions, and we started timing them. By 3:30 they were coming in between 4-7 minutes apart, and lasting about 45secs-1min. KJ called the doctor, and they said to come in.
I liken those real contractions to being the same as someone taking a knife, ripping your abdomen open, and pulling your insides apart with bare hands...then shooting you with a BB gun, over, and over, and over again. Despite that, I was breathing through them, and telling myself that only a few hours more of this, and I would be able to deliver Katy without meds like I planned - I was wrong, but more on that later.
One thing I've learned from this entire experience is that planning is for the stupid -babies have no plan except the one God gave them, so all you can really do is just shut up and wait for Him to order your steps to get to your child, and know that whatever the path ends up being, it was for good reason.
We get to the hospital, and proceed to triage. Because we were already supposed to be there for the induction, but came in a few hours early, we were able to go straight to labor and delivery and get a room. The room they gave us was great - really spacious, a tv, a fold out sofa, plenty of windows - I really thought everything was going to be ok, despite also feeling like my reproductive system was waging war against itself and was losing miserably.
I got hooked up to the monitors, and was laying down suffering through the agony of contractions. By then, my Maya-Bean had gotten there too. KJ and I wanted someone in the room with us that would be supportive for both of us, and focus on the task at hand - getting Katy out - she was the obvious choice, and definitely lived up to our expectations and then some.
After a couple of hours, I was dilated to about 3cm, but the contractions weren't on a consistent pattern - they were still coming in at 4-7 minutes apart. The OB came in and decided that although I started labor naturally, I would probably need some "intervention", so he decided to break my water and start me on Pitocin to speed things up. Looking back, if I had been in my right senses, I would have asked for one or the other, not both at the same time; but I didn't and that's what ultimately led to me throwing my natural birth plan right out the window.
Breaking my Water...and My Spirit
Up until this point I was pretty chillaxed - cracking jokes between contractions, updating on FB and Twitter - I was doing pretty well. When the OB came in to break my water, I guess a wave of emotions hit me - Katy will be out here and in my arms in a few hours, and my whole world will be forever changed. The one thing I've been waiting for for almost a year is about to happen, and in order for it to happen, I pretty much have to come close to dying. The doctor broke my water, and as the water gushed out, I began to cry - it didn't even hurt; I think I was just overwhelmed. While that was going on, the nurse was steady pumping the Pitocin in me through an IV. In case you didn't know, Pitocin brings on way more intense contractions than the normal hormones in your body would. Not long after all of this, I went from laughing through the contractions to not being able to breath through them at all. I couldn't really switch positions because of all the crap that was hooked up to me, and I had to lay close to flat on my back because of the monitors, so the pain went from a 5/6 to an 11 for me...fast. After a long time of crying, screaming, and telling myself to suck it up, I finally broke down and got the epidural. It was a tough decision, and I felt like such a wuss for doing it. My whole pregnancy I kept hearing from so many people that women are made to take this kind of pain - if they could do it, I could do it too. In my mind, getting the epidural was the equivalent of acknowledging that I was not a "real woman", because I couldn't take the pain, and I was totally ashamed of myself. It took a lot of support talk from KJ and Maya to get me to understand that my womanhood was never going to be defined by whether or not I had to get pain meds to birth my child. The fact that I am able to give life defines my womanhood by itself. It didn't stop me from crying again. Plus, when the anesthesiologist came in to do the epi, I had to stand up, and the rest of the aminotic fluid that didn't come out when they initially broke my water came out like a dam had been broken - it was awkward and gross, and it made me really glad my water never broke out in public.
So, I got the epidural, and after some time, I started to feel better - I could still feel pressure, but it was manageable compared to the contractions. I also had a little button to push out more meds if I felt like the pain was getting too intense. The nurse cautioned me to use discretion with the button, because I could end up losing all the sensation before pushing time. I said I would be very frugal in my button pushing...then while she was out and KJ and Maya were sleeping, I felt some intense pressure and pushed the button...it didn't work the first time, so I pushed it again. Sometimes God gives you signs, and sometimes you don't listen, and during those times, stupid things happen...like losing all the feeling in your legs 0_o
The End of the Road...and the Start of the Marathon
The OB came in around 2pm and checked me - by now, I figured I was still only around 6-7cm. So, when she said, "welp, your at 10cm; you ready to start pushing?", my heart dropped. 1: pushing means thats it; finito; done - she's here. 2: I couldn't feel my legs, so how was I supposed to push? I explained this to the doc and the nurse, who replied, "I told you not to push the button". :-( Needless to say, I was completely nervous. The nurse stepped out and came back a few minutes later with a plan: cut the epidural off and wait about an hour so I could get the urge to push. Seemed logical enough to me...except childbirth is anything but logical - after an hour, all I was able to do was wiggle my big toe. While this puts me on Beatrix Kiddo status, it certainly didn't help the situation at hand. After I told the nurse about my lack of progress, she said that I was going to have to push anyway - Katy's heart rate would drop after each contraction, which meant she was close to crowning. I was going to have to push her out without having the urge to push - if you've ever had a kid, then you know it's a huge difficulty to try to do that - but this is what I had to work with. So, KJ, Maya, & the nurse put my feet up in the stirrups, and the nurse instructed me on the next contraction to take a deep breath and push...so I did...and she was out in 3 pushes.
Life After the Birth
It was all pretty much a blur after that. Katy came out; KJ cut the cord; the OB cleaned her out so she could hear that 1st cry; Maya starting crying; they put Katy on my chest; I told her it was about time she came out. As the staff cleaned her up, KJ and Maya and the nurse were telling me what a great job I did, and then I heard the words no mother wants to hear: "you have a tear". 2nd degree perineum *in other words, ouch times a million*. I had to get 3 stitches - now overall that's not bad, but I don't think you realize what your perineum does or its importance until you have to sneeze...and it feels like its ripping apart.
I also ended up with a fever, so they had to run an IV of antibiotics before I could go to my maternity suite. I also got extremely nauseous and was having trouble breathing - the staff blamed it on extreme exhaustion and fatigue from being up all day. Eventually we made it up there though, and the rest of the night was spent coaxing Katy to sleep and wondering if there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Truth be told, we've been stuck in the tunnel for the last couple of days; although I know it'll get better soon, soon isn't now, and right now, all I want is some pain relief...and to not cry.
I know your probably wondering, "Would I do it all over again"? Yes; I would change some things, but if the result was the same: this awesome bundle of joy that God chose me and KJ to create, then yes, 100%. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I did it. The road is not going to be easy (I've cried more in the last yr than I have in my whole life), but with God, each other, and our family and friends, we'll get through it. And we'll look back and say that she was worth all of it and then some.
But right now, as I look at KJ and Katy sleeping, I can honestly say it's totally worth it, all of it, even if it didn't seem like that at the time. While Katy is doing one of her short sleep sessions, I wanted to get down as much of her birth story as I could-after awhile, you start to forget bits and pieces. So, here it is: how my Katy came to be.
Contractions...Should be Considered Capital Punishment
Now, most of you know that I was already over being pregnant by week 37, so by the time I hit 40 weeks the day before, I was at my wits end with trying to figure out how to get this kid out of me. KJ and I tried everything: spicy food, pineapples, walking...more walking, sex...more sex...nothing seemed to be working. We would go to those stupid weekly appointments just to hear "1cm...but you'll get there eventually". Finally, we were able to get an induction date for the 11th. We went to bed early on the 10th to give ourselves some energy since we had to arrive at the hospital at 5:30am the next day. I of course, because of what I thought was nerves, couldn't sleep, and woke up at 12:30am on the 11th. I should have known then that something was about to happen.
First, I had a couple of BH (braxton-hicks) contractions...same old stupidness I was used to, and I paid no attention to them. About an hour later, after dozing off for a few seconds, I found myself screaming ouch...a few minutes later, OUCH...WTF!!! By then, KJ woke up to see what was wrong with me - I told him I thought I was having real contractions, and we started timing them. By 3:30 they were coming in between 4-7 minutes apart, and lasting about 45secs-1min. KJ called the doctor, and they said to come in.
I liken those real contractions to being the same as someone taking a knife, ripping your abdomen open, and pulling your insides apart with bare hands...then shooting you with a BB gun, over, and over, and over again. Despite that, I was breathing through them, and telling myself that only a few hours more of this, and I would be able to deliver Katy without meds like I planned - I was wrong, but more on that later.
One thing I've learned from this entire experience is that planning is for the stupid -babies have no plan except the one God gave them, so all you can really do is just shut up and wait for Him to order your steps to get to your child, and know that whatever the path ends up being, it was for good reason.
We get to the hospital, and proceed to triage. Because we were already supposed to be there for the induction, but came in a few hours early, we were able to go straight to labor and delivery and get a room. The room they gave us was great - really spacious, a tv, a fold out sofa, plenty of windows - I really thought everything was going to be ok, despite also feeling like my reproductive system was waging war against itself and was losing miserably.
I got hooked up to the monitors, and was laying down suffering through the agony of contractions. By then, my Maya-Bean had gotten there too. KJ and I wanted someone in the room with us that would be supportive for both of us, and focus on the task at hand - getting Katy out - she was the obvious choice, and definitely lived up to our expectations and then some.
After a couple of hours, I was dilated to about 3cm, but the contractions weren't on a consistent pattern - they were still coming in at 4-7 minutes apart. The OB came in and decided that although I started labor naturally, I would probably need some "intervention", so he decided to break my water and start me on Pitocin to speed things up. Looking back, if I had been in my right senses, I would have asked for one or the other, not both at the same time; but I didn't and that's what ultimately led to me throwing my natural birth plan right out the window.
Breaking my Water...and My Spirit
Up until this point I was pretty chillaxed - cracking jokes between contractions, updating on FB and Twitter - I was doing pretty well. When the OB came in to break my water, I guess a wave of emotions hit me - Katy will be out here and in my arms in a few hours, and my whole world will be forever changed. The one thing I've been waiting for for almost a year is about to happen, and in order for it to happen, I pretty much have to come close to dying. The doctor broke my water, and as the water gushed out, I began to cry - it didn't even hurt; I think I was just overwhelmed. While that was going on, the nurse was steady pumping the Pitocin in me through an IV. In case you didn't know, Pitocin brings on way more intense contractions than the normal hormones in your body would. Not long after all of this, I went from laughing through the contractions to not being able to breath through them at all. I couldn't really switch positions because of all the crap that was hooked up to me, and I had to lay close to flat on my back because of the monitors, so the pain went from a 5/6 to an 11 for me...fast. After a long time of crying, screaming, and telling myself to suck it up, I finally broke down and got the epidural. It was a tough decision, and I felt like such a wuss for doing it. My whole pregnancy I kept hearing from so many people that women are made to take this kind of pain - if they could do it, I could do it too. In my mind, getting the epidural was the equivalent of acknowledging that I was not a "real woman", because I couldn't take the pain, and I was totally ashamed of myself. It took a lot of support talk from KJ and Maya to get me to understand that my womanhood was never going to be defined by whether or not I had to get pain meds to birth my child. The fact that I am able to give life defines my womanhood by itself. It didn't stop me from crying again. Plus, when the anesthesiologist came in to do the epi, I had to stand up, and the rest of the aminotic fluid that didn't come out when they initially broke my water came out like a dam had been broken - it was awkward and gross, and it made me really glad my water never broke out in public.
So, I got the epidural, and after some time, I started to feel better - I could still feel pressure, but it was manageable compared to the contractions. I also had a little button to push out more meds if I felt like the pain was getting too intense. The nurse cautioned me to use discretion with the button, because I could end up losing all the sensation before pushing time. I said I would be very frugal in my button pushing...then while she was out and KJ and Maya were sleeping, I felt some intense pressure and pushed the button...it didn't work the first time, so I pushed it again. Sometimes God gives you signs, and sometimes you don't listen, and during those times, stupid things happen...like losing all the feeling in your legs 0_o
The End of the Road...and the Start of the Marathon
The OB came in around 2pm and checked me - by now, I figured I was still only around 6-7cm. So, when she said, "welp, your at 10cm; you ready to start pushing?", my heart dropped. 1: pushing means thats it; finito; done - she's here. 2: I couldn't feel my legs, so how was I supposed to push? I explained this to the doc and the nurse, who replied, "I told you not to push the button". :-( Needless to say, I was completely nervous. The nurse stepped out and came back a few minutes later with a plan: cut the epidural off and wait about an hour so I could get the urge to push. Seemed logical enough to me...except childbirth is anything but logical - after an hour, all I was able to do was wiggle my big toe. While this puts me on Beatrix Kiddo status, it certainly didn't help the situation at hand. After I told the nurse about my lack of progress, she said that I was going to have to push anyway - Katy's heart rate would drop after each contraction, which meant she was close to crowning. I was going to have to push her out without having the urge to push - if you've ever had a kid, then you know it's a huge difficulty to try to do that - but this is what I had to work with. So, KJ, Maya, & the nurse put my feet up in the stirrups, and the nurse instructed me on the next contraction to take a deep breath and push...so I did...and she was out in 3 pushes.
Life After the Birth
It was all pretty much a blur after that. Katy came out; KJ cut the cord; the OB cleaned her out so she could hear that 1st cry; Maya starting crying; they put Katy on my chest; I told her it was about time she came out. As the staff cleaned her up, KJ and Maya and the nurse were telling me what a great job I did, and then I heard the words no mother wants to hear: "you have a tear". 2nd degree perineum *in other words, ouch times a million*. I had to get 3 stitches - now overall that's not bad, but I don't think you realize what your perineum does or its importance until you have to sneeze...and it feels like its ripping apart.
I also ended up with a fever, so they had to run an IV of antibiotics before I could go to my maternity suite. I also got extremely nauseous and was having trouble breathing - the staff blamed it on extreme exhaustion and fatigue from being up all day. Eventually we made it up there though, and the rest of the night was spent coaxing Katy to sleep and wondering if there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Truth be told, we've been stuck in the tunnel for the last couple of days; although I know it'll get better soon, soon isn't now, and right now, all I want is some pain relief...and to not cry.
I know your probably wondering, "Would I do it all over again"? Yes; I would change some things, but if the result was the same: this awesome bundle of joy that God chose me and KJ to create, then yes, 100%. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I did it. The road is not going to be easy (I've cried more in the last yr than I have in my whole life), but with God, each other, and our family and friends, we'll get through it. And we'll look back and say that she was worth all of it and then some.
Monday, February 18, 2013
This.. Is Not a Test
My husband just found out about that one of his former residents committed suicide...a close friend of mine just told me about a recent suicide attempt; she said that the weight of the world is taking a toll on her spirit; someone just last week jumped in front of an oncoming metro train; there's so many stories, it's ridiculous. I'm...at a loss for words on this...but what I do know, is that this isn't a test; this is an all out mental battle.
I'm sure there are people that think this is all bullshit - 'what do you young people have to be depressed about?' Considering most of the people that graduated after 2007 went to school only to end up in debt and not have a job to pay the debt off...I would say that's pretty depressing. We go through things that some people could only imagine, and unfortunately for some of us, ending life seems like the only option. This mentality is becoming more and more popular. Suicide is the third leading cause of death for 15-24 year olds in the U.S.; it's something that cannot just be brushed under the rug anymore.
Researchers say to look at signs...they could range from alcohol an drug dependency, to eating disorders and sexual promiscuity, to behavior issues, and family issues, and issues upon issues upon issues...
This isn't always the case...people can smile in your face; look like they don't have a care in the world, and be the same people that are battling with the demons that lead them to take their lives. I'm one of those people. We have to look past the "trends", and look at the bigger picture - we are in a mental and spiritual war, and without support and faith, we cannot, WE WILL NOT be able to fight this.
All it takes is reaching out to somebody, anybody-don't be ashamed to talk about this, because when you talk about it, you not only help yourself, you could be saving someone's life, including your own. Have the courage to fight this, and surround yourself with people that are willing to fight with you and for you; without that, you will never make it.
And last but certainly not least, the tragedies that have fallen upon my alma matter could have happened at any university-please don't convince yourself that it's because it's an HBCU, that we are in different category-mental illness/death/tragedy- it transcends all color/culture/gender/religious barriers; and like our mascot, we will soar above this and beyond it, and be bigger and stronger...as long as we fight it together.
-Tina
PS: Below is a link to crisis hotlines for the state of MD-I'm sure there's one in every state...don't ignore this...you could be the one who saves someone...or yourself:
http://www.mdcsl.org/avjsc/csl_hotlines_ci.asp
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Baby Steps
I've been told I read too much. I mean, I guess that's true:
- I read the newspaper
- I read magazines
- I read e-books on my tablet
- I read blogs
The list goes on & on...but my neighborhood growing up got to the point where my overprotective parents didn't want me outside, and TV bored me, so I would read...
Anyway, their argument is that you start to believe everything that you read...I don't believe EVERYTHING, but I do take it into consideration; and if I DIDN'T READ...
- I probably wouldn't have done as well in school,
- So, I wouldn't have gotten scholarships for college,
- And I certainly wouldn't have gotten into AND finished graduate school...I mean, you kinda have to read a little bit to get through graduate school *don't believe anyone that tells you otherwise*
Recently, I've been reading baby books, specifically "What to Expect When You're Expecting", and "Your Pregnancy, Week by Week". And I have to admit, most of it scared the crap out of me...but there was something that really stuck out, regarding anti-depressants.
From what I read, and from what my doctor has said, the decision to stay on my "happy pills" is up to me; I just need to acknowledge that the baby could be a little jittery/cranky coming out of the womb...
Obviously this is NOT what I want for my kid...so after a lot of thinking, and a lot of bugging my ob-gyn, he suggested that I try to wean myself off of the meds.
About two weeks ago, I started taking my meds every other day, which puts me at about half the daily dosage that I was taking before...surprisingly, I haven't noticed a difference; possibly because most of the time my personality/mood varies between
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I'm hoping that eventually I can get off of it...not only for the baby, but for me; I mean, who wants to be on that stuff for the rest of their lives???
And as far as reading too much...considering we used to get killed for being caught with books, and the illiteracy rate here is disgusting, I think I will set a good example for my kid and continue to read...I think I may have saved his/her life with some of the things I've learned. :)
-Tina
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