Tailspin

How quickly your mind can put you right back on the bathroom floor, sobbing, hitting your forehead, speaking unkind words to yourself, wondering why, feeling like giving up, and yet, too exhausted to give up.

Let me back up a little bit. Olivia’s 1st birthday was on the 7th. I was having a bit of anxiety leading up to it. What should have been such a joyous occasion had me full of dread. On that day a year prior this beautiful light was brought into the world. This amazing little human made her way earthside at 4:05am, was laid on my chest, and I felt…. nothing. The previous 9 months had been horrible, but it was all supposed to be worth it for this moment… and I felt adrift. Like a spectator. Like I was ready to go to sleep if Gabe would just take his baby away. It was the start of a horrific time that spiraled to active suicidality and my decision to go into an inpatient psychiatric facility. So, you can understand why I might feel a little worried about how my mind would handle the anniversary of that day. Yes, it was Olivia’s birthday… But it felt like it was also the day the last remnants of who I was truly died.

Heading into her birthday this year, with my anxiety heightened and mood dipping, I planned a lot of things to keep us busy. Gabe’s birthday is the day prior (the 6th), and then Olivia’s on the 7th. And with all the family flying in, we had plenty of shenanigans going on starting the night of the 5th, nonstop through the evening of the 7th. I overplanned so my mind wouldn’t have time to think. I knew that wasn’t healthy. I knew that wasn’t respecting my boundaries. Because, truth be told, I also hadn’t been sleeping very well in the couple weeks prior. And my PPD is very sleep sensitive. So you all know, these things are not symptoms I just ignore or try to manage alone. I met with my psychiatrist and we made some medication adjustments to try to manage these symptoms. I also am very honest with my therapist and see her 1-2 times weekly. PMADs are not something I am trying to navigate alone…. Even after a year. And I want to be very, very transparent on that. Yes, even as a Christian. Heck, especially as a Christian. So often I hear about women not getting help because they believe that they are afflicted due to a lack of faith; and more prayer, faith, worship, Bible study, etc, will heal their mental illness. But why can’t the message be all of that AND treatment? God does provide healing in many different ways. Can he provide supernatural miraculous healing? Absolutely. Can he provide miraculous healing by paving a way to a new infusion called Zulresso (which he did for me)? Definitely. Can he provide healing through medication and therapy? For sure! Who are we to put restrictions on how He delivers healing? Use all the tools He provides!

Okay. Off my soapbox. Where was I? Not sleeping. So yes, my team was aware and we were working on it. However, I wasn’t being such a responsible member of that team. Knowing that I wasn’t sleeping well, and that my appetite was decreasing, but having slipped into a depressed point of not caring, I chose to ignore these warning signs and schedule a bunch of stuff to keep us busy. I didn’t take the breaks from everyone that I knew I would need. I was having crying spells, was irritable, was not enjoying anything, and was very much going through the motions.

Add on top of this that we had attempted to transition Olivia to cow milk earlier in the week. She could not tolerate it as an infant. I had to cut out dairy while pumping, and then when we switched to formula, we used “Sammy’s Milk®” because it is a goat milk base that is also MTHFR friendly. Anyway, we initially gave her whole goat milk and she was unwilling to drink it. So we thought we would try cow milk and see if she could tolerate it now. She loved it! But it was apparent after a couple days that her tummy still did not. She was in so much pain, it was heartbreaking. So we got her off that. But the damage was done and she developed the worst diaper rash I have ever seen. Granted, she has never had a diaper rash, but it is bad. She was screaming and sobbing through every diaper change. And then on her birthday evening, there was blood. That was it for me. The breaking point. And since it wasn’t clear where the blood was coming from, off we went to the ER. Happy 1st birthday, sweet girl. Thankfully, nothing major was wrong. Unfortunately, though, there was nothing they could do to expedite her healing process aside from what we were already doing. So, super fast ER visit, and then back to her party to open her birthday presents.

By this point, my mind is barely hanging on. The phrase, “I’m just so tired” keeps playing in my head. That phrase, in and of itself, is triggering to me, so I am trying to drive it out. But the truth is that I am truly too tired to access my tools to combat it. I’ve been fighting my asthma all week on top of not sleeping and battling my mental health. Its been tough. And exhausting. And I’m on the brink. We go home and get Olivia to bed. She is also over-tired and not feeling well. While Gabe puts her to bed, I pick up and put things away. We both weren’t at our best with each other through the night, so I figured I would wait for him and then maybe we would talk. Instead he comes out and says he is going to sleep in the living room, gathers his things, and that is that. That was the last bit my mind could handle. I am on the bathroom floor sobbing again. PPD has won and is telling me all the lies again. Though, in that moment, I believe them all… And today am still having a hard time fighting them. My mind told me over and over, sobs racking my throat: you are ruining their lives, this is all your fault, you gave everything to make this weekend about them and it wasn’t enough, you didn’t respect your boundaries and look what you did, Olivia has a nasty diaper rash and it’s your fault — you let this happen, why would you try cows milk with her — you know better, you made her go through all this pain, you are an idiot, worthless, pathetic, stupid, you are dragging them down, Gabe should find a new partner and be Olivia’s primary parent because you aren’t good enough for either of them, when are you going to get it together, you. are. a. burden…. Over and over. And I’ll be even more honest. I questioned God. I did. I hadn’t really done that on this journey, but I did that night. “Why am I here again, God? Why do I still have to walk the pain of this road?”.  I am working to make a “what” out of this. What can I do with my story to help others? Part of that is this website. Hopefully soon will be a peer support group in our region. And ultimately a non-profit to help Moms access care. But in that moment, there were a lot of “Why God’s?”, interspersed with tears. But as before, what finally slowed the tears, was fragments of song. Fragments of “How Great Thou Art”, because truly I couldn’t even remember most of the words. However, that song seems to be our language, a superior way to communicate peace between God and I. It is a gift He has shown to me, and I am grateful for it.

So what do I do now? Well, as it turns out, I have therapy scheduled for today. God planned that well. And Gabe and I will talk. Because there is clearly hurt all the way around. And when my PPD becomes bad and I end up in a deep hole, it is really hard to see how it affects those around me. So did I do something to hurt him? Undoubtedly. My patience was nonexistent and I know I had a sharp tongue. But also, he knows I need space in those moments, so maybe that is all he was trying to do… space and grace, and it just played out wrong. Could he also be afraid? Probably so. The last time my mood shifted in this direction, it went very badly. So perhaps there is fear of having our family endure the unbearable again. However, what I do know, is that we are different people now. While I went to a really ugly place Saturday night, today I got to spend the morning just Olivia and I. And last year, that would have been torture because I was so empty. This year, I recognize her as my daughter and I enjoy holding her and interacting with her. And just that alone is enough to turn the tide.

Hold on friends. This journey isn’t easy, but we will endure and overcome, because our stories aren’t over yet!

But God.

#mypostpartumstory #fourthtrimester #postpartumdepression #postpartumanxiety #postpartumocd #postpartumptsd #ppd #ppa #ppocd #ppptsd #maternalmentalhealth #maternalmentalillness #maternalsuicide #maternalmortality #butGod #praisethroughtears #prayerandtreatment #intrusivethoughts #youareenough #Zulresso #brexanalone #SageTherapeutics