Coming Out of the Darkness after Postpartum Depression

What do you think of when you think of PPD? How does it make you feel? Have you been there? What smells, sights, memories trigger it? Sometimes it's a perfume or a song. 

I remember being in the hospital staring at this tiny perfect face that my husband and I created. His tiny features that looked nothing like me but his dad. As they wheeled me out of the hospital, 17 years old, terrified and not sure what to do I sat there fighting every tear. I got in the car and went home. As I walked in the house and Brian left I cried. I was uncontrollable and I couldn't stop. I hid it from Brian. I hid it from my Mom and family members. I HAD to do this. No one else was going to take care of this baby but me and I had to figure this out. I had no help and no resources. As a 17 year old girl this was terrifying. After bringing Gabriel home I almost hemorrhaged to death. Anemic and weak I think it had a toll on my overall physical and emotional well being. I didn't realize then that I had PPD, Postpartum Depression. I had never heard of that. Baby blues sure but not PPD. I never got treated. I was too scared that not only were people judging me on being a teen mom but then they would just say that I brought this on myself. I often wonder if it would have made a difference.

When I had Zachariah his birth threw me into a plethora of anxiety and depression. He almost died from NAIT (neonatal alloimmune thrombocytopenia). NAIT is a rare platelet disorder. My baby came out bruised and battered because my body was attacking him. My body was killing him. We were not compatible. I couldn't believe that something like that could happen. The thought of loosing him consumed me. He spent 7 days in the NICU with his platelets going up or down and we didn't know if he would live. After an intense few days in the NICU I finally came home with this baby that I couldn't stop staring at because I thought he would stop breathing and die. I often lay by his bed drifting in and out of sleep worrying that I would loose him. All I wanted to do was sleep. Again, I was too afraid to say anything.

With each child and miscarriage I had a difficult time with PPD. It's a demon. It robbed me. It takes everything away. You want to be like those other mothers that are so happy and that makes you sad. Because you feel like you're a bad mother because you're not happy. Maybe if I had more support my healing would have been different but being afraid of not being perfect or not having it all together was why I never shared. 

I can't say how thankful I am to my husband who supported me in the best way a husband can. But though he loved me through it, he didn't know how to help me heal. I thought sweeping it all under the rug would work. But like all demons they plague you. They come back with a vengeance. I thought if I could get out of bed then that was a big deal. People always would laugh at the fact that I got up at noon or later but what no one knew was that if I could have, I would of stayed in bed for a year. Laying there trying to find solace in my bed. I was sad and I was depressed. The fact I got out of bed was a huge milestone. I didn't want to do life. I didn't want to adult. Sometimes it was all I could do to get a shower and put makeup on and look "all together."

Thankfully by the grace of God I always took care of the babies. They were never neglected and I loved holding them close. I was so sad I thought I am never getting out of this hole. It's dark and I can't pull myself out. It was like drowning. You know you need to fight to not drown but you lay still and float away. As you slide further and further into the darkness you can't see the sun anymore. And then it's dark. Everyone experiences PPD differently. I had PPD with anxiety. My thoughts would race and not be rational. I would be so tired that I couldn't get out of bed yet not sleep a wink but lay there with my thoughts.

Everyday I was going through the motions and being silent. Finally about 8 months after I had Maddie I went to my OB. I broke down crying. I told her of the uterine rupture and how I was having nightmares of Madison dying or myself and how I wasn't sleeping and I didn't know what to do. I said all I do is sleep because I don't know how to get rid of the emotional pain. Mind you this type of "sleep" was you are asleep but you can hear everything around you. It wasn't restful. 

She looked down at the floor and in my head I am looking at her intently like ok she gets it! And she said, "Well we can get you some antidepressants. Are you going to hurt the baby?" I felt my heart sink. I put my head down and said no quietly. As I started crying she asked why I was crying. I said I am not going to hurt her. I am terrified something will happen TO her. Don't you get what I'm saying? I stare at her at night to see if she's breathing and then in my mind I role play what would happen if I lost her and that kills me inside and I can't handle this! I. CAN'T! And the doctor says, "Where would you like the prescription sent? This is out of my league." I hung my head. She asked again. I couldn't speak. Someone who is suppose to help me with my well being just watched me as I poured my heart out and did NOTHING to validate what I was feeling. She didn't say I'm sorry. She didn't say she understood. So in defeat I went home and went back to bed. Defeated.

Ask yourself this question. What's wrong with our society? Medical professionals?

It is estimated that 10-15% of moms experience PPD. But I think that number is much higher due to the fact that our moms are scared to come forward.

We need MORE for our moms.

More resources and outpouring of love for them to get the help that they need and not a ton of medications.

Maybe you letting her get some sleep or a shower is what she needs to feel human again.

Maybe she needs a meal.

Maybe you validating her feelings is all she needs.

But maybe. Just maybe. All she needs is a hug.

Maybe as society we need to come together to support moms. Those meal trains are great but what about naps? Maybe making a nap schedule for mom to get adequate sleep along with a meal would be ideal.

I honestly think it's been sharing my story that has helped me to heal. With my job and all my moms who deal with PPD I share my story. And it is emotional and raw. Why? Because I want them to know they are not alone. I felt that way and I can relate and validate what she's feeling.

Part of healing for me was becoming a birth and postpartum Doula. Helping women who were going through the very same things I did helped. Part of healing was knowing that my job was important. Part of healing came with understanding that nothing was wrong with me. After almost 18 years of PPD I feel free! And this has been recent. I feel like I woke up from a deep sleep underwater and fought like hell to get out. This time I was determined! I was awake!

Thank you for reading my story. If you have PPD and you are reading this, I am sorry. I know your pain. And I am praying for you! 

If someone you know is battling with PPD get help. GET HELP! 

Here are some signs and symptoms of PPD:

• Lack of interest in your baby
• Negative feelings towards your baby
• Worrying about hurting your baby
• Lack of concern for yourself
• Loss of pleasure
• Lack of energy and motivation
• Feelings of worthlessness and guilt
• Changes in appetite or weight
• Sleeping more or less than usual
• Recurrent thoughts of death or suicide

I have included a list of resources. One resource is the company I work for ~ St. Louis Doulas.

At St. Louis Doulas we offer Birth and Postpartum Services. Counseling Services. Lactation Services. Support Groups. Placenta Encapsulation. Belly Binding. Aromatherapy and Herbals. And much more.

http://www.stlouisdoulas.com/

Jamie Bodily: St. Louis Doulas ~ has a Masters’ degrees in Human Services and Mental Health Counseling. She is currently a Licensed Professional Counselor.  
"I provide counseling services focused on helping women through their reproductive years.  Women who have experienced anxiety and depression are at an increased risk for mood disorders during pregnancy.  By providing an opportunity for education, proactive strategies, and continuing support, these risks can be reduced. I believe that even with all of our efforts to educate, support, and sustain women through this period of time, some experience traumatic births."

http://www.postpartum.net/get-help/locations/ 
http://www.postpartum.net/locations/missouri/
https://therapists.psychologytoday.com/rms/prof_results.php?city=Saint+Louis&state=MO&spec=578
http://www.apa.org/pi/women/resources/reports/postpartum-depression.aspx


If you would like more information on NAIT contact naitbabies.org 
a simple blood test for mom and dad can detect this fatal condition.

And moms, don't quit! I am rooting for you and I am here for you! 

A Doula

I was 17 when I walked into a childbirth class. Little did I know that this would change me forever. Not just becoming a mother at the young age of 17 but change my whole perspective on life. I wanted to be a music teacher. I was in band for years. It was the only thing I had a passion for. And then I had Gabe..... I had always had the fantasy of having children. But I only wanted one and I wanted a boy. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have 8 kids. Now that I am becoming a doula I see in my own births where a doula would have been beneficial. I wish that I would have had the education, physical and emotional support that a doula can give. I remember walking in the childbirth class. The women were quite older but they were all very polite to me. I remember sitting down and getting ready to watch a video on birth. I was scared to death. I didn't know a thing about childbirth. But as I sat there, Brian next to me, I couldn't believe how beautiful it was. And then a few months later Gabriel was here and I was astounded! 36 hours of labor and he was finally here and I was exhausted. I wish I could tell the 17 year old me that I had choices. I had the choice to choose natural birth, an epidural, an unmedicated birth, a water birth, whatever but I felt like because I was so young the choice was taken away. From this day on I knew I wanted to be a doula/midwife. I knew I wanted to help women in their choices for their perfect birth. I want women to be empowered by their birth no matter what age they are and know that they have choices! If you are reading this and you are not sure about what a Doula does let me clarify a few things. 

What is a doula? 

The word doula  is a Greek word meaning women's servant. Women have been serving others in childbirth for many centuries and have proven that support from another woman has a positive impact on the labor process. A doula is a professional trained in childbirth who provides emotional, physical, and educational support to a mother who is expecting, is experiencing labor, or has recently given birth. The doula's purpose is to help women have a safe, memorable, and empowering birthing experience. So if you are deciding if you would like a doula here are some questions to ask a potential doula:

• What training have they had?
• What services do you provide?
• What are your fees?
• Are you available for my due date?
• What made you decide to become a doula?
• Would you be available to meet before to go over a birth plan?

And you can check out my facebook page for more information: Heavenly Touch Doula and my website (we are currently working on) heavenlytouchdoula.com 

God I'm Just Not Ready

I have come to a new season in life. I admit that I came into it kicking and screaming. I turn 35 this month and for whatever reason that has been harder than turning 30. I've been saying in my head, God I am just not ready. I am just not ready to be a year older. I am just not ready to leave 34 behind. I. Am. Just. Not. Ready.

I was 34 when I had Madison. I found out that I had a uterine rupture and shouldn't have anymore children. I remember telling God I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to let that part of me go. But I remember praying to the Lord and saying, God I'm just not ready but if it's your will please let me be okay with it. Please let my heart not ache for another child. Then Madison turned a year old. And I wasn't ready. But that day came and went and it got easier. 

I feel like there has been so much recently that I have been saying God, I am just not ready. It's so hard being a mother of so many different ages. I love watching them get older but my heart is just not ready to let them be older. My heart is not ready to let go. Your kids go from mommy hold me to mommy let go. We build them up to get ready for life and they spread their wings and then.....they go off into the world. 

Gabriel turned 17 in May. He's been thinking of which college to attend, he just got hired at a job and got his license all in the span of a week. I am extremely proud of him. I admit I was kicking and screaming about this too. My oldest. My baby; was getting older. I am happy to say that he wants to be a game developer. 

And he is pretty amazing when it comes to building and fixing computers. God gives us all gifts and Gabe has definitely found his in computers. Just like his dad. 

I admit I waited for this moment when Gabriel was older.  I wish I could turn the clock back to when he was three and would carry his tebby air (teddy bear) around. Your kids don't see all the tears you cry and the prayers that you pray for them.

I know my life will not get any easier as I hit milestones with all the kids. I know I'll be saying God, I am just not ready quite a bit in the next few years.

And I pray through those times that the Lord will comfort me. I know I am not alone and God will carry me through those trying times. 

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.

Psalm 18:2 "The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."

Sit Down And Play With Me Mommy

Today was a I slept in till 9 and woke up to half eaten cookies on the living room floor, toothpicks strewn all through the house and the boys rolling out my yoga mat to use as a train track.
"Sit down and play with me Mommy!" Jackson says in the sweetest voice. He looked up at me with his big eyes. And let me tell you, it is really hard to be mad at a sweet little boy asking you to play with him. I didn't hear them running through the house making mischief this morning and I said "I don't have time right now Jackson. I have to clean up the mess." I didn't realize how detrimental this can be to a 3 year old. You are their world and he asked me into his world for just a moment and I turned it down.

I left the room and stood there for a moment asking myself what I just did.

As funny as it sounds I forgot how to play with my kids.

I forgot how to sit and have fun.

I forgot that for a moment I needed to focus on the most important thing in my life.

As I grabbed a train I sat down next to Jackson and Titus they start telling me about the trains and their colors.
Titus can tell you the name of every Thomas the train and color. He has a fantastic memory. Titus was telling me which train I was holding. As I studied the train I started to think about my to-do list. Oh is my to-do list never ending. Things started running through my mind of what I had to do.

But it will be there tomorrow.

Jackson and Titus will only be little for a short time. And when they get older I will long for those days that they asked me to sit down and play with them.

So I decided that the laundry can wait yet another day. The busyness of my life can be put on hold for yet another day.

Mommies of small children let me tell you to enjoy them. ENJOY THEM! Gabe and Carter are 17 and 14. I remember when they were little. It seems like a dream sometimes. I say in my mind I wish I did this or that with them. But now they are older and I can't go back. Nothing last forever.

I know you are tired.

I know your time is valuable.

But I also know you love your kids and would do anything for them.

So sit down mommy! And play with them!

Your Opinion Doesn't Always Matter

It always seems like no matter where you go someone has an opinion. About everything. It's not healthy trying to please everyone. You will drain all the life out of yourself if you continue to do so. Constant approval-seeking forces you to miss out on the beauty of simply being yourself. I have never fallen into the trap of what others thought of me. Honestly, I just don't care.

However, recently it has come to my attention that there are people who think that even though my children are here on this earth I shouldn't have had that many. Sometimes I want to ask "So which one would you get rid of?" It seems though people have an opinion all of the time and they feel that they can share their opinion with me.

I will start by saying I feel my family is wonderful and beautiful just the way God created them! It was a conviction of ours to have as many as the Lord would give us. Say what you want but we felt this was the right decision. I will reiterate that Brian and I felt like it was the right decision for our family and we wanted to let God into every aspect of our lives.

So in my children's defense I'd like to answer a few questions I get. I often have relatives that ask these rude questions. Even if you are a relative of someone that has a big family, it is NOT ok to ask these questions! Have some respect and couth please.

• I am not catholic or mormon! I am Christian seeking to do the Lord's will.

• Are you done? I am not sure if I am done however I feel it's rude to ask that question especially because I had a uterine rupture and am pretty sure I am done. It brings an aching to my heart when people ask me this question but because most people have no apathy and they couldn't care less that they are breaking my heart every time it's asked. 

• Are you crazy?? Yes have you met me!

• Do you know what causes that? Yes I know what causes children because that is called sex and it's what God gave to married couples to enjoy. So yes I know what causes that! And hey, when you are really good at something you might as well keep doing it ;)

• Do they all have the same father? I know it's surprising to you when I say yes that they are all by the same man and I don't have any "baby daddies" but I assure you they all look like their dad and nothing like me. 

• No I am NOT on welfare. My husband works diligently to provide a wonderful life for us. And he has done an amazing job at making us comfortable. 

• Eight!?! You really have eight?? No I'm lying cause it's fun!

• Even though I have eight doesn't give you the right to call me "Octomom" Because genius the oldest is 17 and the youngest is 13 months. So they weren't all born the same time.

• How do you feed all of them? I think the answer you are looking for is "Food!"

So yes I know you have opinions and want to share. Thank you for having an interest in us! 

So yes my house is chaotic and loud but I am blessed beyond measure with the most amazing husband and the most amazing kids. I wouldn't have it any other way. My life is full of kisses, hugs, laughter and so much love. It's not roses all the time. We have our ups and downs just like any family. I know you are curious about us and our life and how we do things but have some respect! Love us from a distance :)

We Should Be Talking About Miscarriage

Miscarriages are difficult. Especially when people think you shouldn’t talk about it. It is such a magical moment when you find out you are pregnant. A thrill! Their little life flashes before your eyes. What color of eyes. What color of hair. Their smile. Is it a boy or girl. Picking a name. Birth. Holding the baby for the first time. I can remember very clearly the first time I held my children. They are by far etched in my memory forever. But then it happens. A miscarriage. All that hope turns into hopeless despair. Will I have another one? Can I have another one? Do I want to go through this again? 

I have had 5 miscarriages and only a few people know that. Besides my husband for whatever reason I chose to do it alone. And that is a terrible place to be. Alone. 

This last miscarriage was in February 2013, right before I got pregnant with Madison. 

It was by far the worst one as I was about to hit my second trimester but the baby stopped growing earlier. There is nothing worse than the technician saying she can’t find the heart beat. It’s not easy going through labor but the times I did it I had a great reward. With the miscarriage I did not. It’s hard to will yourself to go through that pain when you have nothing to gain. No tiny fingers and toes to count, no eyes to look into, no tiny hand to hold your finger, no cheeks to kiss, no baby to caress. It leaves you raw of emotion. But to some people a miscarriage doesn’t matter. People would say, “Oh Casey you can always have more!” Or “Your hands are full honey. You don’t need anymore!” 

But how do they know? First off, this is my child. MY CHILD! Not a blob of tissue. I can’t have another one because there will never be one with that genetic marker and those finger prints. That baby was a person. That baby was unique in his or her own way. And how do they know I could have more? And no my hands aren't full enough and my heart is empty and hurting. Even though I didn’t see that baby doesn’t mean I didn’t love it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t dream about him or her. How he looked. Did he look like me or Brian. Probably Brian. They alway look like their daddy. How she smelled. Babies have this remarkable smell that any mother can identify and it is pure ecstasy. They say that this smell alone has the power to cure depression in some women. Studies have found that regardless of the maternal status, the smell of newborns triggered dopamine release in the reward pathways of the brain - the same “pleasure pathways” affected by cocaine, food, and other stimuli that evoke reward response. I’ll take the baby drug any day!

But what about grief? A lot of people think you shouldn’t mourn your miscarriage. Why? Does the child not deserve it? Of course it does! It was your baby.

I knew a lady who I went to church with at Grace Family Baptist in Spring, Texas. It was my first miscarriage. It didn’t know how I was feeling or what I should be feeling. I knew I was numb. She came over and talked to me about grieving. She told me to mourn the baby and to properly grieve how I felt was necessary. She said to allow myself to feel what I’m feeling instead of staying numb. The day after that women were bring me meals and showing me so much love. I remember that night I started to cry. And cry. I don’t know if she knows how much her kind words have helped me.

With number ten I remember very clearly after my D&C that the baby was indeed gone. And the pain began. A pain unlike anything I have felt. This life was inside me. A connection only I knew. And I cried. I cried at the loss. But then I thought that the spirit has never left me. That child’s spirit will always be with me. The hopes and dreams that I had for the baby may be gone but a part of him or her will always live inside me. I cried out to the Lord, “Lord why does this hurt so much? Please take it away." I am always reminded that there should be 13 instead of 8. There are missing pieces to my heart. I remember saying "I need peace and comfort Lord. Please comfort me."And in that moment I felt a peace unlike anything I have ever felt before. And I laid there. Trembling. Sobbing. The song “You’re Beautiful" by Phil Wickham came into my mind. I got out my phone and started playing it on You tube. The words are exhilarating. They are so beautiful. My favorite verse is, “When we arrive at eternity’s shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, We’ll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we’ll sing…You’re beautiful!” I played that song as I cried myself to sleep and then something miraculous happened. I was ok. I. Was. ok. And then, my sadness turned into anger and then my anger turned in to accepting what had happened. Only then was I able to pick myself up and start doing this thing called life again.  There is a part of me that will never be ok. That will never recover. If you have suffered a miscarriage then I am sure you know what I am talking about. It's ok to talk about your baby. Shout it from the rooftop!!! Don't forget about your baby and remember that life that once filled your womb is a beautiful child of God. And even in the hardest times. When we are in our valley. Praise the Lord. Because He WILL bring you through it. 

Psalm 23:4 He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His names sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.

This Angry Mama

I have to lay it all out here. I struggle with anger. I yell, I'm impatient and agitated. I always get, "You must be so patient to homeschool." Nooooo!!! I am not! But it happens to the best of us. Right? It seems like stepping on a lego with your barefoot can trigger me to just go off. Anger is something that I have dealt with on and off for years. Asking God to forgive me and to give me grace towards my kids like He gives grace to me. But this is my cross I have to bear.

My emotions and exhaustion get the better of me and then the anger rears it's ugly head. One day at the lovely Costco, my oldest boy and my oldest girl went at it. "Mom will you tell Faith blah blah" and "Mom will you tell Gabe he can't blah blah blah." That's the moment I tune out because they want me to be the referee that I can't be. How can I take sides? I love them both. I usually end up telling them they have to work it out themselves. Somewhere Faith realized she was the oldest girl and thought she was in charge and Gabe knew he was the oldest and that's when the head butting began. As I am trying to solve this argument Titus got the better of me. He was in the cart ~ out of the cart ~ on the side of the cart ~  under the cart ~ and when I put him in his seat and told him to stay I said, "Titus if you don't stop I'm gonna" and as I looked down into his little warm eyes staring back at me my heart melt. Here is this kid having the time of his life hanging on the cart. I don't want to steal his fun but my kids know there is a certain way that I feel they need to behave. As I looked into these sweet blue eyes of Titus I realized that the anger was a manifestation of my will and not God's will. I realized that I should not lash out in anger simply because I am exhausted.

The problem here is that many moms are afraid or even ashamed to admit that they are an angry mom. But why? I guess because we want all of those mom's at the mommy group thinking we have everything together. But what if we were to share our struggles. I think we would find that other mommies are struggling too and are in need of emotional support. I could just see myself going to a group and saying, " Hi! My name is Casey and I am an Angryaholic." How do you think that would go over? I'd probably get some looks like I was crazy! Lol! I am ok with that but I think that we would find that other moms are struggling too and it took one person to say, "Hey, I am a sinner and so aren't you! Let's pray for each other. Let's help one another."

I think by hiding our bitterness we hold those emotions in and not facing them we need to take a look inside and realize that we are selfish beings at heart. Our anger is a heart issue that needs to continually be brought at the feet of Jesus. 

Then the rest of my day is filled in thought and prayer over the issues of the day. Like me I know that kids will have good days and bad days. I can't control my kids actions but I can control my reaction. 

I think the worst for me is at night I feel so guilty for yelling at them. When I go and tuck them in I see the faces of angels. Sweet. Gentle. Forgiving. I ask for forgiveness. From them. Jackson, Titus and Zach will pile on me with a big hug and say, "It's ok mommy. Tomorrow is a new day!" I used to say that a lot. It's true though. Tomorrow is always another day to choose to make things better.

James 1:19-20 My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.

  

I hope you have a blessed evening and if you have any issues like mine I pray that you will have the courage to speak out about it.