|search engine optimization|
I've struggled for a while knowing whether or not to even write about this. But it is a big part of my life and since this blog is about 'me', well this is part of me for now.
I'm being treated for Post Pardum Depression. I had it with Nadia and wouldn't ya know it, I've got it with Rhys. I never sought out help for it with Nadia, except for a great friend who I met with for a few months. And maybe that would help now too, except I don't have anyone to meet with. So I saw my family dr, as per the urging of my midwife and he has me on a antidepressant. I hate it. I have to wait a few weeks to see if it's working, until then I have to deal with my mind. And it's hard. I feel like I'm going crazy. I'm not a crier and I've cried more times in this past week than what I've cried in the past three years, combined. I'm not handling it well. It's not so much a sadness, but rather a panic. Sheer, out of proportion panic. And I can't control it. It's worse on nights Andrew is not here. And recently that's been 3 nights week. The last week of October we have revival at our church, he'll be gone most of the week. This tuesday he'll be gone all day. How am I going to make it? I have no close friends in this area that I can call on. How can I tell anyone at the church? I am scared out of my mind. I can see why dr's take ppd so seriously, I can see why women with it go off the deep end. The magnitude of fear that I am feeling is such that I'm almost willing to do anything to make it stop. It's overwhelming. It's to the point I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can't concentrate and it's hard to get out of the couch. And this is not me. This is the woman who was canning the day before I went into labor. It's not me to sit lengths of time. They say at least 2 weeks if not more till the meds kick in. How am I going to make it?
They tell me that there are mothers who actually enjoy their children and aren't paranoid at the sound of their baby's cry. It seems almost cruel to me, that I've had two children and with each I am almost incapacitated with fear. I cannot enjoy them! I want them to grow up, now! And not to like 16, to like 3. I want Rhys to quickly grow to 3 or at least 18 months. Most people would say that's not very long at all, but time seems to slow down to a snails pace. 6 weeks seems like forever. I can't believe that I've made it 2 weeks, but it seems like forever.
Oh God help me. How am I going to make it?
I can see why women run away. I can see why they jump from buildings or bridges. It's almost too much. And out of all the things you try, there is nothing you can do to make it go away. You either medicate, or just go through it. Going through it is not the best option. I did that. For 9 months. It was not fun. I hardly remember the time. It was hard on Andrew, hard on Nadia and hard on me. That's all I know.
And my husband, my dear, sweet husband should not have to deal with this. My children should not have to deal with this. They all deserve better.
But this is where I am at. I have a wonderful husband who loves me and doesn't tell me just to 'get over it'. I have a lovely daughter who brings me tissues when I'm crying. And I have a beautiful little boy who does exceptionally well when he's not going through a growth spurt. For all outside eyes I am blessed. And I am. But my brain is sick and I can't see beyond today. Not to mention I can't even fit in my fat jeans.
Pray for me.