Friday March 30, 2012
This is a neat feature that I learned from Single Dad Laughing. Each day when he publishes, at the top of his blog is the feature "500 Posts Ago". It's a flashback to posts that were so long ago, and it breathes new life into the blog.
So, I thought I would start with my most popular posts, and expand on them. I am now on Twitter (@Rairighk) and I share my blog posts with the rest of the world that can't see them on Facebook. This is in an effort to grow my blog and get it out there. Someday, maybe it will be in the right hands and go further than just my own computer screen!
103 posts ago I wrote about Postpartum Depression (PPD), and gave a shortened version of what we went through (you can read it here). This was my very first blog post and at the time I wrote it, my youngest baby was 18 months old. I was still experiencing symptoms, I was seeing a therapist weekly and I was on antidepressants.
Since that time, I have learned so much about PPD and how to overcome it. I can honestly say that PPD has affected me permanently - by that I mean that while I don't still suffer from symptoms directly, it has forever altered how I view motherhood.
Whether that was my choice to allow PPD to do that, or it happened naturally, I feel that the PPD I experienced after the birth of my first daughter was mis-diagnosed, and not treated properly.
The world of Postpartum Depression is broad, and each woman who suffers from it experiences a variance of symptoms. While traumatic for me, I consider mine on the minor side.
I have since learned more about not only PPD, but Postpartum Psychosis (PPSD) and other disorders that sway to the extreme side of instability after having a baby.
Many women are ashamed of not feeling like the mother that their friends, neighbors, family and society are, or tell them they should be. It is a haunting disease and unless you or someone you know has experienced it, you could never possibly understand.
If you or someone you know are experiencing PPD or PPSD, please reach out. Start with your doctor. Make sure you tell your spouse, your best friend, your Mom. I know it's hard to talk about, it's SO hard to explain the feelings that you are experiencing, but you cannot remain silent.
There is so much joy and life to live with your baby, your spouse, your other children and this disease will eat you alive. If you do not get the support you need from your doctor, your family or your friends, keep searching. Find the strength to keep going every day - and keep searching for an out. Below are a couple of resources that may help point you in the right direction:
The Online PPMD Support Group - this page has a link to live support, and they will search for support in your area, free of charge. There is also a crisis hotline listed on this page.
Postpartum Support International - another easy to maneuver website with links to support in your area, and a network of women having the same experiences.
Thank you for reading (again). I am thankful that I am able to share my experiences - it has taken a long time for me to come to grips with my "new" life as a mother. Here's another link to Flashbacks To Losing It. If it helps just one new mother, then my goal was accomplished.
Please share this post in your circles. Statistics show that 1 in 8 new mothers experience some form of PPD or PPSD. Motherhood is such an amazing miracle and gift from our Creator. This disease robs all of us from experiencing that joy - so hopefully together we can heal.
Showing posts with label Flashbacks To Losing It. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flashbacks To Losing It. Show all posts
Friday, March 30, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Fork In The Road (83/366)
Monday March 26, 2012
I love to write.
It's incredibly therapeutic for me.
I appreciate everyone who reads my blog, whether you get the email feed and click right away, or you come to it at your leisure.
Lately I've been feeling like something is missing.
I started this blog in 2010 when I was in the process of pulling myself out of the deep, dark hole of depression. There were so many things bogging my mind down. Not the least of which being the Postpartum Depression I was still struggling with. That post, Flashbacks To Losing It, remains the most popular and by far the most read.
My goal at that time was to write about things that NO One was talking about, but SO many people were feeling or experiencing. I've never been afraid to speak my mind or say things that some might find uncomfortable.
Of course, this leaves me open to judgement by many. I've gone back & forth about how far to go with postings. I've always done my best to be anonymous, never naming names. Any pictures I post of others or their kids are done so with their permission first.
Recently, I've been posting about my kids, things we've done or things they've said. I think that's important to do as well.
But not everyday.
When I agreed to blog everyday for an entire year, I had no idea really what I was getting myself into. It is a huge task.
Not every day has a story. Not every day has a momentous occasion to share. Not every day is there something weighing heavy on my mind.
I am almost 3 complete months into my year of daily blogging and I feel it has gotten a little off track. When I write about the hard stuff, the controversial stuff, the personal stuff, there are at times 10 times more readers on those posts.
That tells me a lot.
Either people like to read about the hard stuff, or they are sharing it more with their friends, or they are talking more about me and how my (sometimes crazy) mind works, or they're trying to figure out who I am talking about ~ no matter which it is, people are reading.
9 times out of 10, I am getting praise and compliments for the popular posts. I've been told to reserve a copy of my first book for some friends. I get private messages from people that can relate. I get public comments of praise.
I also get some criticism, but that is to be expected. I don't expect anyone to think or feel the way that I do. I blog based on my own life experience and how it has shaped my mind to think.
So I've decided to go back to posting about the things that no one talks about. Of course, some of these posts will be controversial and you may not agree with them. I'm going to try to keep it personal and relay to you how it seems from my eyes, but I welcome your comments and your feedback. I will, of course, continue to be discreet and respectful of the situations and experiences I choose to blog about. Losing followers in no way compares to losing friends ~ and I would never want to alienate any of my friends. I may even change the name of this blog... I'm still debating that one.
I want to grow this blog, and hopefully turn it into something bigger someday. Since I have become a mother, I have very much desired to write a book. I would love to write about divorce and how it affects teenage girls (I'm sure this has been done hundreds of times, but my story is different), I would love to write a book about how having step-parents has affected me as a young girl, teenager and a woman (also, been done before), and I would love to write a book about the after-life of becoming a mother. While joyous and miraculous, having children for me has not even come close to being the experience I had in my mind that it would be. I think that is something many women feel, don't talk about, and may find some comfort in knowing they're not alone.
Today, I'm thankful for the decision that was so hard for me to make. I am thankful for those readers that stick with me through this and help me along the way.
It is with a deep breath that I click "publish".
I love to write.
It's incredibly therapeutic for me.
I appreciate everyone who reads my blog, whether you get the email feed and click right away, or you come to it at your leisure.
Lately I've been feeling like something is missing.
I started this blog in 2010 when I was in the process of pulling myself out of the deep, dark hole of depression. There were so many things bogging my mind down. Not the least of which being the Postpartum Depression I was still struggling with. That post, Flashbacks To Losing It, remains the most popular and by far the most read.
My goal at that time was to write about things that NO One was talking about, but SO many people were feeling or experiencing. I've never been afraid to speak my mind or say things that some might find uncomfortable.
Of course, this leaves me open to judgement by many. I've gone back & forth about how far to go with postings. I've always done my best to be anonymous, never naming names. Any pictures I post of others or their kids are done so with their permission first.
Recently, I've been posting about my kids, things we've done or things they've said. I think that's important to do as well.
But not everyday.
When I agreed to blog everyday for an entire year, I had no idea really what I was getting myself into. It is a huge task.
Not every day has a story. Not every day has a momentous occasion to share. Not every day is there something weighing heavy on my mind.
I am almost 3 complete months into my year of daily blogging and I feel it has gotten a little off track. When I write about the hard stuff, the controversial stuff, the personal stuff, there are at times 10 times more readers on those posts.
That tells me a lot.
Either people like to read about the hard stuff, or they are sharing it more with their friends, or they are talking more about me and how my (sometimes crazy) mind works, or they're trying to figure out who I am talking about ~ no matter which it is, people are reading.
9 times out of 10, I am getting praise and compliments for the popular posts. I've been told to reserve a copy of my first book for some friends. I get private messages from people that can relate. I get public comments of praise.
I also get some criticism, but that is to be expected. I don't expect anyone to think or feel the way that I do. I blog based on my own life experience and how it has shaped my mind to think.
So I've decided to go back to posting about the things that no one talks about. Of course, some of these posts will be controversial and you may not agree with them. I'm going to try to keep it personal and relay to you how it seems from my eyes, but I welcome your comments and your feedback. I will, of course, continue to be discreet and respectful of the situations and experiences I choose to blog about. Losing followers in no way compares to losing friends ~ and I would never want to alienate any of my friends. I may even change the name of this blog... I'm still debating that one.
I want to grow this blog, and hopefully turn it into something bigger someday. Since I have become a mother, I have very much desired to write a book. I would love to write about divorce and how it affects teenage girls (I'm sure this has been done hundreds of times, but my story is different), I would love to write a book about how having step-parents has affected me as a young girl, teenager and a woman (also, been done before), and I would love to write a book about the after-life of becoming a mother. While joyous and miraculous, having children for me has not even come close to being the experience I had in my mind that it would be. I think that is something many women feel, don't talk about, and may find some comfort in knowing they're not alone.
Today, I'm thankful for the decision that was so hard for me to make. I am thankful for those readers that stick with me through this and help me along the way.
It is with a deep breath that I click "publish".
Sunday, January 8, 2012
My Cup Runneth Over (4/365)
We got some good news at the end of last week.
A letter came from school that said our Hannah is going to be named Student of the Month for December! She, along with a few other students both in her grade and other grades in the school, was chosen as Student of the month for being an exceptional model student for that month's character trait: caring.
Of course I knew that Hannah is exceptional. From the minute she was born, she was exceptional!
She's the one that cried so exceptionally well! (See my first ever blog post Flashbacks to Losing It).
She said her first real word at 7-ish months old. She was putting sentences together by her first birthday.
She was crawling by 5 months, walking by 9 months, running by 10 months.
Everything she has ever touched turns to gold.
She is great at every sport she plays.
When she sings, she has a natural vibrato - at the AGE OF 5! And she's in tune!
She is tenderhearted, loving, selfless (for the most part - after all, she's 5)!
She has needed discipline, like, a total of maybe 5 times ever in her life.
She minds well, she is sweet and oh my goodness does she LOVE her little sister!
So, of course, I'm not surprised that she is receiving Student of the Month for Caring. As parents, we are so overjoyed at the smallest accomplishments for our children. I don't know if this is big or small. It's probably HUGE in her world! In the big picture though, will she remember being Student of the Month in Kindergarten when she goes off to college?
Probably not.
But I will.
It's character traits like these that give us parents not only a sense of accomplishment, but immense pride!
I sent an email to all of Hannah's grandparents tonight letting them know that there is an assembly at school where Hannah will be presented with a certificate, a t-shirt and probably one of those cool bumper stickers for my car. As I was typing the email, my eyes were welling up with tears. I had to choke them back, and I actually felt a little silly. I will be THAT MOM that cries at this assembly.
And the next one.
And the next one.
And prom. And... And...
But I'm okay with that.
My beautiful, talented, smart, amazing daughter is growing up so fast! I am so proud of her every day smaller accomplishments as well as the bigger accomplishments! I've always said that I couldn't have designed better children in my dreams.
God gave me the perfect children... for me.
My cup runneth over.
...Go Green ;)
A letter came from school that said our Hannah is going to be named Student of the Month for December! She, along with a few other students both in her grade and other grades in the school, was chosen as Student of the month for being an exceptional model student for that month's character trait: caring.
Of course I knew that Hannah is exceptional. From the minute she was born, she was exceptional!
She's the one that cried so exceptionally well! (See my first ever blog post Flashbacks to Losing It).
She said her first real word at 7-ish months old. She was putting sentences together by her first birthday.
She was crawling by 5 months, walking by 9 months, running by 10 months.
Everything she has ever touched turns to gold.
She is great at every sport she plays.
When she sings, she has a natural vibrato - at the AGE OF 5! And she's in tune!
She is tenderhearted, loving, selfless (for the most part - after all, she's 5)!
She has needed discipline, like, a total of maybe 5 times ever in her life.
She minds well, she is sweet and oh my goodness does she LOVE her little sister!
So, of course, I'm not surprised that she is receiving Student of the Month for Caring. As parents, we are so overjoyed at the smallest accomplishments for our children. I don't know if this is big or small. It's probably HUGE in her world! In the big picture though, will she remember being Student of the Month in Kindergarten when she goes off to college?
Probably not.
But I will.
It's character traits like these that give us parents not only a sense of accomplishment, but immense pride!
I sent an email to all of Hannah's grandparents tonight letting them know that there is an assembly at school where Hannah will be presented with a certificate, a t-shirt and probably one of those cool bumper stickers for my car. As I was typing the email, my eyes were welling up with tears. I had to choke them back, and I actually felt a little silly. I will be THAT MOM that cries at this assembly.
And the next one.
And the next one.
And prom. And... And...
But I'm okay with that.
My beautiful, talented, smart, amazing daughter is growing up so fast! I am so proud of her every day smaller accomplishments as well as the bigger accomplishments! I've always said that I couldn't have designed better children in my dreams.
God gave me the perfect children... for me.
My cup runneth over.
...Go Green ;)Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Stress, Schmess!
I know it's been since Feb. since I've written. I've been busy and I've also been lazy (as far as writing is concerned). But it is now fall, and I will actually be sitting in front of my computer a lot more.
So, Ava is 2 and a half.
We're potty training.
Hot & heavy.
I've never had to potty train a child before. Yes, I know I have a 5 and half year old, but I was working 40-50 hours a week and paying the big bucks for those sweet ladies at daycare to train her! That was a breeze!!
This... not so much.
I will say, that Ava gets it. She knows what she needs to do. She just needs to pee after she sits on the toilet.
And, we've had a rough 6-8 months with her being able to go #2. She just can't. Even in a diaper.
So, today is day 3 of potty training. I'm not bribing, reading books, singing, babysitting (unless to clean her up), stickering, charting, toy-ing, NOTHING. I've tried all of that. I set the expectation very clearly.
And she heard it. Loud and clear.
The first day was awesome.
The second day was pretty good too. Only 1 accident on her way to the potty, she just didn't get her pants down in time.
Today... not so good.
She peed on the dining room chair while she was eating her breakfast.
She peed on another dining room chair while she was eating her lunch.
She peed on the (tile, thank God) bathroom floor 3 times on her way to the potty.
She peed on the stairs from playing in the basement on her way to the potty.
And... the Hershey's squirts.
She still can't go #2, and it's the squirts that kill me (and her, I suppose). She squeezes with all of her might to hold that in, surely it's gonna hurt!
And all I get is a squirt! (Hey, that rhymes).
I feel so bad for her, and she is doing SO well. I can't take this frustration out on her! So, I do another load of laundry (9 in the last 2 days - we only have 4 people in our house), clean the floor, or the chair, and Ava, and move on again.
I remind her about every 10 minutes to see if she has to go. The mere mention of a chance to sit on the potty makes her have to go! So, about every 10 minutes, I'm up, I'm down, I'm up, I'm down.
I tried cleaning the house today. Handwashing the tile floors, bleaching and sanitizing the bathrooms, vacuuming, you know, the normal stuff... It took me 5 and a half hours to vacuum and shake the rugs, vacuum the hard floors (pre-wash) and clean one bathroom.
Every. Ten. Minutes.
All. Day. Long.
Now, I'm not one to hold back on admitting my weaknesses. If you've read my first ever blog post, "Flashbacks to Losing it", you'll know - I'm not ashamed of weaknesses. I will tell you this...
Potty training has pushed me to the end of sanity. I don't know why. Granted, it would push "normal" moms to the brink too, but they seem to just brush it off and move on. Me? I almost had a panic attack today. I just wanted to cry.
So, tomorrow is a new day. Ava is so proud that she gets on the potty by herself, announcing to the household that she's going potty, while unravelling the entire roll of toilet paper to wipe (whether she goes or not). I am proud of her too.
It is such hard work. Some things are easier for others, but this... this has really tested me.
I love my girls, and I'm so proud of them. I keep my frustrations to myself, never exploding or showing them that I am stressed. But, being a single married woman (I'll explain that someday), it's TOUGH.
The blessing in this is that at the end of the day, my girls go to bed. They are obedient, sweet, loving, kind and they love their Mommy. They would do anything to please me. When they go to bed, I miss them. I miss their sweet faces, their sweet voices.
And I get to have a glass (or two) of wine... FINALLY!!
So, Ava is 2 and a half.
We're potty training.
Hot & heavy.
I've never had to potty train a child before. Yes, I know I have a 5 and half year old, but I was working 40-50 hours a week and paying the big bucks for those sweet ladies at daycare to train her! That was a breeze!!
This... not so much.
I will say, that Ava gets it. She knows what she needs to do. She just needs to pee after she sits on the toilet.
And, we've had a rough 6-8 months with her being able to go #2. She just can't. Even in a diaper.
So, today is day 3 of potty training. I'm not bribing, reading books, singing, babysitting (unless to clean her up), stickering, charting, toy-ing, NOTHING. I've tried all of that. I set the expectation very clearly.
And she heard it. Loud and clear.
The first day was awesome.
The second day was pretty good too. Only 1 accident on her way to the potty, she just didn't get her pants down in time.
Today... not so good.
She peed on the dining room chair while she was eating her breakfast.
She peed on another dining room chair while she was eating her lunch.
She peed on the (tile, thank God) bathroom floor 3 times on her way to the potty.
She peed on the stairs from playing in the basement on her way to the potty.
And... the Hershey's squirts.
She still can't go #2, and it's the squirts that kill me (and her, I suppose). She squeezes with all of her might to hold that in, surely it's gonna hurt!
And all I get is a squirt! (Hey, that rhymes).
I feel so bad for her, and she is doing SO well. I can't take this frustration out on her! So, I do another load of laundry (9 in the last 2 days - we only have 4 people in our house), clean the floor, or the chair, and Ava, and move on again.
I remind her about every 10 minutes to see if she has to go. The mere mention of a chance to sit on the potty makes her have to go! So, about every 10 minutes, I'm up, I'm down, I'm up, I'm down.
I tried cleaning the house today. Handwashing the tile floors, bleaching and sanitizing the bathrooms, vacuuming, you know, the normal stuff... It took me 5 and a half hours to vacuum and shake the rugs, vacuum the hard floors (pre-wash) and clean one bathroom.
Every. Ten. Minutes.
All. Day. Long.
Now, I'm not one to hold back on admitting my weaknesses. If you've read my first ever blog post, "Flashbacks to Losing it", you'll know - I'm not ashamed of weaknesses. I will tell you this...
Potty training has pushed me to the end of sanity. I don't know why. Granted, it would push "normal" moms to the brink too, but they seem to just brush it off and move on. Me? I almost had a panic attack today. I just wanted to cry.
So, tomorrow is a new day. Ava is so proud that she gets on the potty by herself, announcing to the household that she's going potty, while unravelling the entire roll of toilet paper to wipe (whether she goes or not). I am proud of her too.
It is such hard work. Some things are easier for others, but this... this has really tested me.
I love my girls, and I'm so proud of them. I keep my frustrations to myself, never exploding or showing them that I am stressed. But, being a single married woman (I'll explain that someday), it's TOUGH.
The blessing in this is that at the end of the day, my girls go to bed. They are obedient, sweet, loving, kind and they love their Mommy. They would do anything to please me. When they go to bed, I miss them. I miss their sweet faces, their sweet voices.
And I get to have a glass (or two) of wine... FINALLY!!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I Was THAT Mom
Something has been eating at me since last week. I've debated over & over whether or not to blog about it, because I don't want to write about my bad days - just the good ones. But I can't seem to get over it...
I was that mom - once.
I yelled at my daughter, Hannah. When I say yelled, I mean yelled - through grit teeth and tight lips.
Here's what happened:
My oldest daughter Hannah, my youngest daughter Ava and I all share a pickup truck. I'm not talking about a deluxe-four-door-tons-of-room-extra-large pickup truck. I mean standard cab shortbed, nothing extended and no bed cover. No child latch system, standard seatbelts. Nothing heated, dent in the door, ABS disabled... you get the picture. We are packed in like sardines!
My youngest daughter still has to have the toddler booster seat, and she sits in the middle, because my oldest daughter Hannah needs the shoulder strap for her seat. Everytime we get in, Hannah tries to buckle her seatbelt by herself, but the carseats are so crowded and close together she can barely reach (or find) her buckle. When she can't do something, she starts to cry. She doesn't ask for help or use words to tell me what's wrong, she just cries.
So I looked over at her and I immediately knew what was wrong - this happens often. On that night, I was tired, I hadn't had any adult interaction in over 3 days and I just let her have it.
"You're almost 5 years old! You should know how to buckle your own seatbelt"!
"I can't believe I have to get back out of the truck and come over there and buckle that belt for you! This is ridiculous!"
"Are you kidding me? Why do you just cry? Why can't you use your words and just ask for help? Then I wouldn't get so mad! Why does this happen every single time we get in the truck?"
"Well, if you can't get buckled then I will just start driving and hope nothing happens. Or better yet, you can just walk. Anyone who can't buckle their own seatbelt can just walk".
It was brutal.
The second my mouth stopped moving, I felt like dog poo. Serious dog poo. And by this time, both girls were crying, I was crying and I looked around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching.
This incident took me back to the time Hannah was born (see my previous post Flashbacks to Losing it) and what an incredible short fuse I had. It has taken me years to get control of my emotions and actually plug in so that I can control them.
What was my excuse today?
I had none.
None that was valid anyway. My sweet little girl did not deserve to be spoken to this way. If she ever spoke to me that way she'd be in BIG trouble. Just because I'm the mommy doesn't give me a free pass to do and say whatever I want. I'm supposed to be teaching my girls - teaching them how to properly express their feelings.
I immediately wrapped my arms around her and apologized. I told her that I had no right to speak to her that way, that I was sorry to have yelled at her. I told her how special she is to me and that even if she can't buckle her own buckle she can ask for help anytime. I will help her with no problem. And someday, when we get a bigger vehicle that's a little more family-friendly we won't have this problem.
She said she forgives me, and the little one said, "Mommy, y'ok? Ssssss (Sissy), y'ok?" And I gave her a big squeeze and told her how sorry Mommy is too. And we told her that we are all okay.
I am still trying to figure out why I got SO angry over a seatbelt! I wasn't mad at Hannah, I think I was frustrated with being crammed into the bed of a truck. We have no room for storage, and being winter, everything gets touched by wet boots or shoes and ends up wet or dirty.
All that aside, I need to remind myself that I am blessed. I'm blessed to have a husband that loves me and goes to work everyday to support us. I'm blessed to have a truck that gets us around. A lot of families can't afford 2 cars, or any vehicle for that matter. I'm blessed to have healthy children who are learning to do the tasks that will get them through life. I'm blessed that Hannah knows to buckle herself - safety first!
I could go on & on. It's unfortunate that I needed to remind myself and put myself in check. But I did. And it's been eating me up ever since.
I need to confess this (which I'm doing here), forgive myself and move on.
It's not a setback, it doesn't happen often and hopefully my daughters won't remember that moment.
I have learned from it and I will handle it better next time.
I don't ever want to be that mom again. Ever.
I was that mom - once.
I yelled at my daughter, Hannah. When I say yelled, I mean yelled - through grit teeth and tight lips.
Here's what happened:
My oldest daughter Hannah, my youngest daughter Ava and I all share a pickup truck. I'm not talking about a deluxe-four-door-tons-of-room-extra-large pickup truck. I mean standard cab shortbed, nothing extended and no bed cover. No child latch system, standard seatbelts. Nothing heated, dent in the door, ABS disabled... you get the picture. We are packed in like sardines!
My youngest daughter still has to have the toddler booster seat, and she sits in the middle, because my oldest daughter Hannah needs the shoulder strap for her seat. Everytime we get in, Hannah tries to buckle her seatbelt by herself, but the carseats are so crowded and close together she can barely reach (or find) her buckle. When she can't do something, she starts to cry. She doesn't ask for help or use words to tell me what's wrong, she just cries.
So I looked over at her and I immediately knew what was wrong - this happens often. On that night, I was tired, I hadn't had any adult interaction in over 3 days and I just let her have it.
"You're almost 5 years old! You should know how to buckle your own seatbelt"!
"I can't believe I have to get back out of the truck and come over there and buckle that belt for you! This is ridiculous!"
"Are you kidding me? Why do you just cry? Why can't you use your words and just ask for help? Then I wouldn't get so mad! Why does this happen every single time we get in the truck?"
"Well, if you can't get buckled then I will just start driving and hope nothing happens. Or better yet, you can just walk. Anyone who can't buckle their own seatbelt can just walk".
It was brutal.
The second my mouth stopped moving, I felt like dog poo. Serious dog poo. And by this time, both girls were crying, I was crying and I looked around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching.
This incident took me back to the time Hannah was born (see my previous post Flashbacks to Losing it) and what an incredible short fuse I had. It has taken me years to get control of my emotions and actually plug in so that I can control them.
What was my excuse today?
I had none.
None that was valid anyway. My sweet little girl did not deserve to be spoken to this way. If she ever spoke to me that way she'd be in BIG trouble. Just because I'm the mommy doesn't give me a free pass to do and say whatever I want. I'm supposed to be teaching my girls - teaching them how to properly express their feelings.
I immediately wrapped my arms around her and apologized. I told her that I had no right to speak to her that way, that I was sorry to have yelled at her. I told her how special she is to me and that even if she can't buckle her own buckle she can ask for help anytime. I will help her with no problem. And someday, when we get a bigger vehicle that's a little more family-friendly we won't have this problem.
She said she forgives me, and the little one said, "Mommy, y'ok? Ssssss (Sissy), y'ok?" And I gave her a big squeeze and told her how sorry Mommy is too. And we told her that we are all okay.
I am still trying to figure out why I got SO angry over a seatbelt! I wasn't mad at Hannah, I think I was frustrated with being crammed into the bed of a truck. We have no room for storage, and being winter, everything gets touched by wet boots or shoes and ends up wet or dirty.
All that aside, I need to remind myself that I am blessed. I'm blessed to have a husband that loves me and goes to work everyday to support us. I'm blessed to have a truck that gets us around. A lot of families can't afford 2 cars, or any vehicle for that matter. I'm blessed to have healthy children who are learning to do the tasks that will get them through life. I'm blessed that Hannah knows to buckle herself - safety first!
I could go on & on. It's unfortunate that I needed to remind myself and put myself in check. But I did. And it's been eating me up ever since.
I need to confess this (which I'm doing here), forgive myself and move on.
It's not a setback, it doesn't happen often and hopefully my daughters won't remember that moment.
I have learned from it and I will handle it better next time.
I don't ever want to be that mom again. Ever.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Flashbacks to Losing It
This week I learned that an old friend of mine is suffering severly from Postpartum Depression and Postpartum Psychosis. Her Facebook status update simply stated that she is "struggling to stay alive", and a video posted about another woman who lost the battle to PPD "saved her life and the life of her kids". Seeing this about my friend brought back memories for me of a time shortly after I had each of my babies; a time that I almost lost it.
Hannah Grace was born on March 12, 2006. She was an absolutely beautiful baby, and rolled back to front right away on the newborn scale in the delivery room. We knew that she was going to be extra special. I was just shy of my 25th birthday and my husband was just shy of his 29th birthday. Young, first time parents, with their newborn and floating on a cloud... not so much. My husband left the hospital at night so he could get some good sleep in order to be more helpful after I got home with the baby. So it was just me, the baby and the nurses who, I could just say, do this all the time and could have stood to take a course in bedside manner with new, young, first time mothers. I had NO idea what I was doing. I had heard that babies cry a lot when they're newborns, but when Hannah cried that entire first night - all night - I couldn't believe it. I had tried to send her to the nursery because naturally, I was exhausted. They sent her back to me. I was told that I needed to be with my baby and she was crying so much that she was keeping the other babies in the nursery awake. So here I am, a mother of less than 24 hours, standing in my hospital gown, all night long, with a newborn that won't (or can't) stop crying. I cried too... a lot.
When my husband came back the next morning I told him what had happened. He promised to stay with me the second night to help me. The second night was much the same as the first, and now we were 2 stressed out, sleep-deprived first time parents with a baby that won't (or can't) stop crying.
The days and weeks went by, Hannah kept crying. And crying. And crying. Dr. appointments, diet changes for me (I was nursing), formula supplements, Reflux medications, GERD medications, and NO SLEEP. No exercise. Did I mention no sleep? We would send her to the grandparent's for a few hours so Matt & I could rest, go visit friends, get out of the house, shower. They too, sent her back. "Come & get your baby. She won't stop crying and I've tried everything". There were days I would cry so hard and so much, I would take myself out to the driveway, collapse in a ball on the concrete - in front of the car so my husband would have to run me over with it before he could leave me alone with this baby!
I was diagnosed with Situational Postpartum Depression. I was put on medication and my doctor felt that my symptoms would subside when Hannah's did, and that they were (somehow) connected. After 4 months, I returned to work, life went on and now Hannah is almost 5 years old and just as special (or more) as we knew she would be that first day we met her.
3 years later we had Ava. No colic, no reflux, no GERD. She slept well, she ate well, she was always happy. But I wasn't. Again, it hit me. About 4 weeks after she was born I started noticing those nagging, creeping feelings that weren't supposed to be in my head. I got back on medication and this time, started seeing a therapist. Not only had PPD hit me again, but I had another child to care for, and life to live on top of it. It was worse with the second one. Why? She was a great baby. Why was this happening again, and worse this time? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I enjoy my kids? Why wasn't I happy, and why was I so afraid of being a mother?
I still don't fully understand it, but I know I got through it. It took a long time and I'm still healing. There were many people and many things that got me through it. Some days I had to be carried. The struggle was long and hard, and in the end, we all survived. Not only did we survive, but we are stronger because of it. I can't imagine my life turning out any differently than it has, and these experiences have made me thankful for the hard times. The hard times that you never think will hit you, that you never think you'll get through. I'm thankful for the gift of life, the 2 little lives that God has blessed Matt and me with. It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't my fault. It just... was.
So, when my friend posted her struggle, it really struck a nerve in me. I want to help, I want to talk about it. I want to share what I went through and how I got through it. I want to be a part in saving someone else, because I was saved.
The struggles that we endure can make us think that life sucks. They can make us wonder what we've done to deserve them. They can make us wonder why God would let us endure them. Without sounding cliche, He allows these hard times because He knows we can endure them, and there are others out there who need us. Whether we never speak of the trials again or not, we are needed. The struggles come to remind us how precious life is, and how careful we must be with it.
If you're reading this and you or someone you know are or have been affected by PPD or PPS, please reach out. Don't give up. Don't be alone. Hang in there, take it one minute at a time if you have to. Some days, you will have to. The next thing you know, you can take it one day at a time, and then one week. And then, you will be through it. Through it. And you'll have the reality check that I did - it was a gift.
Hannah Grace was born on March 12, 2006. She was an absolutely beautiful baby, and rolled back to front right away on the newborn scale in the delivery room. We knew that she was going to be extra special. I was just shy of my 25th birthday and my husband was just shy of his 29th birthday. Young, first time parents, with their newborn and floating on a cloud... not so much. My husband left the hospital at night so he could get some good sleep in order to be more helpful after I got home with the baby. So it was just me, the baby and the nurses who, I could just say, do this all the time and could have stood to take a course in bedside manner with new, young, first time mothers. I had NO idea what I was doing. I had heard that babies cry a lot when they're newborns, but when Hannah cried that entire first night - all night - I couldn't believe it. I had tried to send her to the nursery because naturally, I was exhausted. They sent her back to me. I was told that I needed to be with my baby and she was crying so much that she was keeping the other babies in the nursery awake. So here I am, a mother of less than 24 hours, standing in my hospital gown, all night long, with a newborn that won't (or can't) stop crying. I cried too... a lot.
When my husband came back the next morning I told him what had happened. He promised to stay with me the second night to help me. The second night was much the same as the first, and now we were 2 stressed out, sleep-deprived first time parents with a baby that won't (or can't) stop crying.
The days and weeks went by, Hannah kept crying. And crying. And crying. Dr. appointments, diet changes for me (I was nursing), formula supplements, Reflux medications, GERD medications, and NO SLEEP. No exercise. Did I mention no sleep? We would send her to the grandparent's for a few hours so Matt & I could rest, go visit friends, get out of the house, shower. They too, sent her back. "Come & get your baby. She won't stop crying and I've tried everything". There were days I would cry so hard and so much, I would take myself out to the driveway, collapse in a ball on the concrete - in front of the car so my husband would have to run me over with it before he could leave me alone with this baby!
I was diagnosed with Situational Postpartum Depression. I was put on medication and my doctor felt that my symptoms would subside when Hannah's did, and that they were (somehow) connected. After 4 months, I returned to work, life went on and now Hannah is almost 5 years old and just as special (or more) as we knew she would be that first day we met her.
3 years later we had Ava. No colic, no reflux, no GERD. She slept well, she ate well, she was always happy. But I wasn't. Again, it hit me. About 4 weeks after she was born I started noticing those nagging, creeping feelings that weren't supposed to be in my head. I got back on medication and this time, started seeing a therapist. Not only had PPD hit me again, but I had another child to care for, and life to live on top of it. It was worse with the second one. Why? She was a great baby. Why was this happening again, and worse this time? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I enjoy my kids? Why wasn't I happy, and why was I so afraid of being a mother?
I still don't fully understand it, but I know I got through it. It took a long time and I'm still healing. There were many people and many things that got me through it. Some days I had to be carried. The struggle was long and hard, and in the end, we all survived. Not only did we survive, but we are stronger because of it. I can't imagine my life turning out any differently than it has, and these experiences have made me thankful for the hard times. The hard times that you never think will hit you, that you never think you'll get through. I'm thankful for the gift of life, the 2 little lives that God has blessed Matt and me with. It wasn't their fault, and it wasn't my fault. It just... was.
So, when my friend posted her struggle, it really struck a nerve in me. I want to help, I want to talk about it. I want to share what I went through and how I got through it. I want to be a part in saving someone else, because I was saved.
The struggles that we endure can make us think that life sucks. They can make us wonder what we've done to deserve them. They can make us wonder why God would let us endure them. Without sounding cliche, He allows these hard times because He knows we can endure them, and there are others out there who need us. Whether we never speak of the trials again or not, we are needed. The struggles come to remind us how precious life is, and how careful we must be with it.
If you're reading this and you or someone you know are or have been affected by PPD or PPS, please reach out. Don't give up. Don't be alone. Hang in there, take it one minute at a time if you have to. Some days, you will have to. The next thing you know, you can take it one day at a time, and then one week. And then, you will be through it. Through it. And you'll have the reality check that I did - it was a gift.
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