A Sad, Heavy Friend

These thoughts came to me this morning. Maybe it was because I was reflecting on the talk I gave on retreat this weekend (more of that to come later). In my talk, I whisked over my post-partum depression. I think, looking back, that I didn't describe it well enough. There is only so much time and there were many aspects of my life that I wanted to share, so I don't know that I would change it, but I know there was so much more than what I said. I guess it was in this state of mind that I started reflecting on it this morning. This is what came to my mind:

Depression is like a sad, heavy friend. She wasn't invited. She came with no warning. Sometimes she seeps slowly into your life and sometimes she suddenly grips you and doesn't let go. She clings to you until you don't know where you end...and she begins. In fact, you forget you used to be a lighter, happier, mobile person. Her heaviness becomes familiar, as do all the traits she brings with her. She brought me bitterness, jealousy, and self pity. She made me feel like I couldn't escape. That I was trapped. Trapped with young children who depended on me who left me little air to breathe for myself. Whether it's reality or not, it's how I felt. Now that I look back and have reflected on it countless times, I see my depression as situational. My personality, mixed with the conflicts my situation brought...made a huge cocktail for depression. Here are the first ingredients:

I don't ask for help
I don't feel entitled to be helped
I take on my burdens myself and don't want to "bother" others
I have high expectations for myself
I am very self analytical
I am social and like to be around people
I also like time to myself to read, write, veg out
I don't want people to feel like I can't "handle it"
I love to bring joy to others and make them laugh
I want my kids to have well rounded, healthy lives with activities that promote this

Mix the above with two school aged children a clingy, high maintenance toddler and a newborn and you have a mom who is too hard on herself, feels like she can't do anything because anything would require jumping through hoops that she doesn't have the energy or desire to do. It is much easier to stay in the cave where all is predictable and safe.

I often look back and wonder what went wrong. Why did it happen then? Sam and Abby were two years apart. I had my first two the same time Lisa had her last two. I worked part time and she was a stay at home mom. We hung out together on our days off and our kids played together. We'd go to the park, eat McDonald's and play in the play area, we joined Zoo Friends and had a membership that allowed us to park free, visit the children's zoo and ride the train. I realize now these were golden years for me. I had other friends that were having their first children and we didn't have the busyness of life that comes when they start school and sports. If Lisa and I weren't hanging out together, we were on the phone. I always had someone to talk to. I also had the outlet of work. Somewhere where I felt important. With Sam, I was a part time manager. I loved my job. With Abby, I moved to Human Resources and cut my hours to 15 as a database analyst. It was perfect! I got out...I did important things...I came home and spent time with the kids. When Sam started Kindergarten, Abby was in preschool. They were both in the afternoon. This meant two days a week, I had 3 hours of total free time! I would go out to lunch with friends who worked. I would crop. I could do whatever I wanted. My house was clean, my life was orderly.

Ben and Mary came into a different environment. They followed the death of Maggie (my stillbirth) and infertility that followed. I had high expectations of the rosy life that should follow after fulfilling my dream of having four children and being a stay at home mom. But it wasn't rosy. I felt trapped. Ben and Mary were 18 months apart and very needy. I was trapped on the couch holding them or listening to lots of crying if I didn't. I had no desire or energy to take them anywhere because it felt like too much work. I had no friends in the same boat. Lisa was off to work as an assistant teacher at school. I realized how much I enjoyed sharing kids with her. She was part time, but her days off were to precious to hang out with someone with babies. She was getting stuff done! I don't blame her at all, because it is exactly what I would have done.

I felt like I was missing out on life! There was so much I wanted to do but didn't feel like jumping through the many hoops to do them! I wanted to volunteer at school, I wanted to catch up with friends, I wanted to crop. I felt tied down, with no hope and nothing to look forward to. Even the breaks that were given to me did not make me happy because they were like a tease, reminding me that they were only temporary and I would be back to the same drudgery. I remember feeling totally whipped out on my birthday because of little sleep and it was going to be mine and Lisa's annual birthday outing since my birthday is 4 days away from hers. We always go shopping and out to lunch. I felt horrible. This in turn made me frustrated that on our day out I would feel so crappy. I ended up crying and confessing that I felt bad and just wanted to go home and go to bed. I remember looking up the signs of depression. One of them is not enjoying the things you normally would have. Yup. That was me.

I remember being jealous of Ted. He seemed fine. He would go to work and I wished I was escaping it all too. I would call him and catch him at lunch laughing with his coworkers in the background. Watching other people in their freedom seemed to further smash me into the dirt, like a person grinding their cigarette with their shoe. My self pity just grew as it seemed everyone was enjoying life while I was in my cave. Each morning I woke up with my heavy friend and each night I went to bed with her. Her heavy weight was overbearing and tears seemed to flow constantly. Ted and Lisa noticed my change. When Ted got home from work every night, I just wanted to crawl to the haven of my bed and shut out all my responsibilities and burdens. I remember just wishing I could just stay in bed forever. It felt so good there.

Finally, Lisa called Ted and shared her concern about me. She felt that Ted should call my doctor. When Ted told me they thought I had postpartum depression and could go on medication immediately, I felt a sense of relief that there was a word for it. I called the nurse back and she asked me a bunch of questions. Among them was whether I felt like harming myself or my baby. With relief I told her I never felt that at all. Instead, I told her my dream was to get on a plane and go to a deserted island. I just had a strong desire to escape. She prescribed Zoloft and after a couple of weeks, my fog started to lift. I still had bad days of feeling trapped, but I wasn't crying all the time. I could function and even laugh.

I stayed on Zoloft for about 8 months. Mary was turning one and I felt that things were easier than they used to be. I also hated depending on a drug. I wanted my natural feelings. There were times that I wanted to go back on. It wasn't easy. I was still surrounded by some of things that brought me down. But now, gradually I feel back to normal. I feel joy again! Having the kids in the Parent's Day Out program is so life giving! I get to choose how to spend my time every week! And Ben and Mary getting older, less crabby, and more independent has been a Godsend. Mary is still clingy and cries when I leave her. But I know this is the tail end of this stage! I think this year is a huge changing year when they go through their twos. I remember 2 1/2 marking an easier time period. And she is my baby! I kiss them all over and thank God for giving them to me. I love being a mother and I know it has been my calling since I was a child.

This morning, as I was getting ready to head out the door, I called Ben from downstairs and told him it was time to go to the "Rainbow Room". I went down to get him and he had a big wet spot on his pants in the front. Arrghh! I brought him upstairs and started pulling off his shoes and pants and poop was falling everywhere! I didn't realize he had pooped. I got it on my hands, all over Ben's legs and the carpet. It was a mess. This is really what having little ones is about sometimes. I am always cleaning up after them....and each time it feels like a set back. But when you are happy, it's a small, minor one. You get over it quickly and move on. I cleaned him up and packed them both up in the car. It's my day off and it would take a lot to bring me down!!

I came back immediately from dropping them off to write down my thoughts. I always hope that what I have experienced helps someone. I hope some mom who googles "postpartum depression" or "sad, heavy friend" (less likely), finds my blog and finds someone who has been there and no longer feels alone.

After I gave my talk at my retreat (honestly...I will tell you more later), a woman about my age came up to me and said, "Postpartum depression is not fun, huh". She was sharing with me that she had gone through the same thing. It may have made her feel better that she wasn't alone. And that made me feel better.

Now I'm going out to lunch with my husband who has made many sacrifices while I have gotten involved in PTO and CRHP. If you call me, you might hear him laughing in the background, but no co-workers! :-)

And as for my sad, heavy friend....I don't doubt a lighter version of her will come to visit again. But I know more now and I'm better equipped. I don't have to carry her load alone. And I don't believe there is anything wrong with medication that helps you get through a difficul time. In fact, I thank God for it!