Baby Blues or Postpartum Depression (Part 5) I don’t want to admit it

So, we got through a VERY LONG first month with our brand new alien, Kyler.  We decided to cancel the contract on the house we were building because it was taking them WAY too long.  (We signed a contract when I was 3 months pregnant and when Kyler was 1.5 months old, they had not even broken ground…)  Fortunately, we were able to find a brand new inventory home and just decided to buy it.  It worked out for the best.  Trying to deal with a newborn, being completely unhappy, “settling” on a new house, and now preparing to move was not the ideal situation.  Most people would be one the edge of a nervous breakdown-right?

Apparently, wrong.  I was so lucky to have my family help us move into our new home.  My parents stayed with us for a week while we unpacked.  Thank God they did because I may not have survived.  My emotions were out of control.  I was so at my wits end with Kyler that I basically refused to take care of him.  How terrible is that?  It was like I was turning a switch off in my head and just going to pretend that I didn’t have a child anymore.  I knew my parents were coming to help and I was going to let my mom have him.  My poor mom.

It was kind of out of nowhere that I just went out of control.  Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING either made me yell or cry.  I wanted no part of Kyler and let my mom take care of him all day every day.  I had moved into a brand new beautiful home but could not appreciate one bit of it.  All that I could see was everything that I couldn’t do anymore because of my alien.   There would be no time to decorate, much less shop for decorations, no time to enjoy the pool outside, no time to cook in the new big kitchen.  Again, pity me.  But, in my world, it was serious and that is how I felt.  I was losing control.  Well, I had already lost control but I was losing it mentally!  I can remember getting so mad at Baby Daddy for the smallest things such as how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.  I absolutely hated him.  It seemed (to me) that he had it so easy, could just work on projects outside, go to work, and not worry about his son or me.  Although my mom was caring for Kyler, I felt like I couldn’t get anything done.  I needed to empty boxes, pay and file bills, grocery shop, etc but felt as though I couldn’t get it done.  There was no reason why I couldn’t when I had plenty of help that week.  Subconsciously, I believe that I was so dreading my parents leaving and having to face the real world with Kyler again, that I was procrastinating and hoping that would somehow stall life.  The real story was that I didn’t want to face life so bad that I was taking everything out on everyone.  All of the yelling at Baby Daddy, all of the “poor me” conversations with my mom were really just me mad at myself for not getting it together.  Everyone has kids and survives.  What was wrong with me?

Finally, someone, I forget who first, mentioned that maybe I should talk to my doctor about postpartum depression.  WHAT?!  I DID NOT have postpartum depression.  My life just sucked, of course.  But, it didn’t.  I had a beautiful new house, a handy and helpful husband, and parents who were a blessing…I also had a healthy baby boy.  Why did I insist that my life was so bad?  Then, someone else mentioned that maybe I should consider talking to someone.  Again, I was offended.  I think when the third person (maybe my mom) mentioned that I was acting a bit out of control, I finally decided to mention it to my doctor.

Ok, I’ll mention it….although I do not have postpartum depression and I’m not taking any stupid anti-depressant that is going to make me fat.  I didn’t need medication – I thought it was ridiculous for people to take antidepressants anyway…  Finally, one afternoon after completely losing my cool with everyone and again realizing that I wanted NOTHING to do with my child, and coming to grips that my parents were leaving in two days, I did call the doctor.  They suggested that they would call in a prescription for me but that I still needed to come in to see my OB.  I was very concerned with the side effects of taking medication and thought that I probably wouldn’t take it anyway but at least I called…  When the nurse mentioned that it may cause weight gain- FORGET about it.  The last thing I needed for my “bad moods” was to gain weight.  I’d surely fall into depression then.  Regardless, I picked up the prescription in good faith but was not going to take it.

I did, however, go to see my OB.  My reasoning is actually hilarious yet sad.  I thought that if I cried enough and explained my sorry life to her that maybe somehow she would make it all go away.  Well, in a sense, she sort of did.  I did cry…but my tears were real.  I felt stupid and pathetic but let it all out anyway.  The important part was that she didn’t appear to judge me in the least.  She sympathized with my situation and comforted me in a way no one had been able to up to that point.  She “diagnosed” me like it was certain and no wonder I had been acting the way I had been.  I couldn’t help it.  The best part was that she did prescribe something for me (something different than before) and it changed my life.

Perhaps, I should have been much less judgemental of all the people on antidepressants.  What did I know?  Well, I learned quickly that if you are fortunate enough to find the right one for you, it may make all the difference in the world.  And it did.  Immediately.  I finally admitted that I did have postpartum depression and I wasn’t embarrassed to say it aloud.  I was also comfortable with admitting that I was treating it with medication.  Maybe it is just in my head and the medication really didn’t do all that much?  What I do know is that I still take it and wouldn’t dare stop.  I’m not going to go into detail about what sort of changes I felt or what I’m taking.  I do want to encourage anyone reading this who feels similar to the way I did to talk to someone, preferably a doctor.  Be open-minded.  I do not feel that I am healed.  I believe that maybe depression will always be with me somehow but I do feel better.  Over the past year since I was originally treated for postpartum depression, my husband has faced many potential layoffs with his job (fortunately, he still has it), we were transferred across the country to a state where I know no one, and my little Kyler (to whom is now absolutely BEAUTIFUL and in no way an alien) is now starting to show a developmental delay.  The latter situation is testing my strength right now.  I have been able to deal with selling and buying yet another house, moving far away from my family and friends; but this new issue with Kyler is very hard to deal with for me.  Hopefully, we will work through it but I am admitting that mentally, I’m losing it a little again. 

Well, if for nothing else, maybe someone reading this feels or felt similar to me and can either get help or at least relate.

Depressed yet devoted

Everyone wants their child to succeed.  How to deal with an imperfection??  My 14 month old is not talking, barely babbling, and usually only grunts.  According to most statistics, he is delayed in his speech.  With all of the autism controversy, it’s hard not to wonder…is Kyler autistic??  Granted, we are early on in this speech delay but it is still scary.  Not to mention, it is so frustrating.  We are working with a speech therapist and I’m so anxious to get results.  It is so hard to look at my perfect baby and know that there is a possibility that he may not be so perfect.  God, how I love him.  But, God, how I want him to communicate.  It’s so stressful working day in and day out with a fussy child trying to help him learn to communicate with no results.  I’ve always been an instant gratification type of person…a controlling person…and a bit of an “OCD perfectionist”.  I NEED him to talk to me.  PLEASE say Mommy.  Please say DADA.  SOMETHING.  We (my husband and I) have been trying so hard yet all of the trying with no progression just leads to bad moods, attitudes, and feelings towards each of us.

I thought I was past postpartum depression.  Why do I feel like I’m quickly falling back into this black hole?  My need to control every situation is obviously not met.  I cannot make him talk.  I cannot make him understand me.  I WILL continue to work hard with him.  I WILL continue to not self diagnose.  I WILL begin to pray more.  I WILL admit that no matter what, I am blessed.  Life could always be worse.