PPD and Me

Well, what started out as intense baby blues blossomed into complete Postpartum Depression (PPD) about a month ago. I think that overall I've been doing okay, but I thought it would be helpful for myself (and maybe others) to blog about what PPD has been like for me.

I love how the therapist described it. She explained that having depression is like a sunburn. You know how your skin is really sensitive when you have a sunburn? You're really sensitive to touch, and even the slightest touch can be very painful. Well, when you have depression you're extra sensitive to thoughts. And you have to wade through your thoughts carefully because you can quickly go from emotionally normal to emotionally hurting in a trice. Just like you have to move gingerly when you have a sunburn, or you're going to be in pain.

It's interesting to me that this analogy got rid of a lot of unhealthy guilt. Before I realized that what I had was depression, I only knew that I was getting stressed out over really little, stupid things. Then I would mentally berate myself for letting such little things bug me. And I'd wonder what I was doing wrong that I was such a basket case. Was I reading my scriptures enough? (I could certainly be reading more) Was I falling short in my relationship with God? (Well, I know my relationship and devotion to Him is far from perfect, so probably I was falling short) And thus I would become even more discouraged and berate myself more for being such a nincompoop.

Can you see the vicious cycle?

Once I realized that I had PPD, I still battled with ideas that it was my fault that I had PPD. (If I had only acted differently in this or that situation a year ago or a couple years ago, would I have been as susceptible to depression?) Again, not a healthy line of thinking.

But knowing that what I was facing was regardless being exacerbated by post-pregnancy hormones led me to go see a doctor. She recommended both medication and counseling. So far, I've just done the counseling, (the medication just didn't feel like the right thing for me to do in my situation, but I'm open to the possibility that that might change) and that's where I got this analogy of depression being like a sunburn.

The way I look at it is that my sensitivity to thoughts (which can quickly lead to anxiety and stress and... well.. depression) are just the pregnancy hormones talking, and I don't need to blame myself for those hormones being out of whack. It's not my fault that those are out of whack. What I can control is what I do when I start noticing self-defeating thoughts creep into my brain. When those thoughts start poking their way in, I can either encourage them, or turn away from them.

There are various ways that I've found to turn away from those thoughts. Sometimes I just consciously think, "No, that thought isn't true. That's just the depression talking." Sometimes, I change what I'm doing and go do something that I find enjoyable. It always seems to help to go outside, and it also helps to stay busy.

I'd say that most of my days are good ones. There are certainly fewer bad days than good ones. More often I find that I'll just have bad morning, or a bad hour or two and the rest is okay or even good.

Thankfully, Chris has been amazingly supportive in all of this. He's really good at helping me do things when I'm feeling down. And he's also really good at taking care of lots of the mundane things that need doing (like cleaning the apartment, doing laundry, changing diapers and the like).

Also, it's a big help that Nathan is such an easy baby. He's a very mellow, very sweet kid. And his smile or laugh always lifts my spirits.

This challenge of postpartum depression is ongoing, but I'm hanging on and learning lessons through it all. Lessons that I probably wouldn't have learned without it. I feel that the Lord is mindful of me. This is a struggle that He sent my way because I needed to grow more, not because I sinned or made a mistake.

To any of you who have already gone through this, who are going through it now, or may yet go through it in the future, I say, "God bless you." It is difficult to experience, but I have confidence that it will end and that the Lord will turn our ashes into beauty.

Until then, keep me in your prayers, would you?

P.S. If any of you have your own stories to share I'd love to read about them in the comments. :)

3 Mo.

My two favorite boys on the planet:

"Dad, it's really hot out here."

That lil' guy turned 3 months old yesterday. (Can you say time flies?) 

Nathaniel lately

This boy is full of awesomeness. He makes us laugh every day. Mostly because he has this great smile.

He's also found out where his hands are. He holds his hands in front of him like this (and usually interlocks his fingers):

He's starting to get more interactive. He'll smile when you play peek-a-boo with a blanket and pull it off his face. He also loves it when his daddy holds him high in the air and then pretends that he's going to eat his face as he slowly lowers Nathaniel down towards him. Nathaniel smiles huge and blinks his eyes more and more the closer he gets to Chris's face. 

We like to watch him when he sleeps. He's just so peaceful. 

He's a really good sleeper, for which we can take virtually no credit. He came as a good sleeper, we just tried to stay out of his way.

Lately, I've been playing this Mendelssohn violin concerto for him, and I'll move his arms and legs to the music. The whole movement is about 6 minutes long, but he smiles and wiggles through the whole thing. I'm amazed that he has that kind of attention span.

Basically, I'm in love with being a mom. It's hard of course, but it fulfills me in ways that being a student or having a job never have. I honestly didn't think I would enjoy being a mom at this stage of his life, or at least that those moments of satisfaction would be few and far between. I thought that it'd be only when I looked back that I'd be able to say, "Oh that was such a wonderful time of life!" I thought that in the moment I'd pretty much only feel worn out and tired.

It's remarkable to me how much I am filled when I take care of and play with this sweet kid. Almost every day comes this simple (but strong) joy and peace from being Nathaniel's mom. I know those feelings are a gift from God, my Heavenly Father, and I thank Him for sending such an incredible boy to our home. He knew exactly what child would be perfect for us. 

Is it any wonder that we just can't get enough of this little guy?

Not fearing the future, but enjoying the journey.

In 5th grade, my teachers told me things like, "When you're in middle school next year, your teacher will just throw your homework away if you forget to put your name on it," or, "Your teachers in middle school won't ever accept late work." Man... I panicked. I cried to my mom whimpering that I was never going to make it through middle school because what if I genuinely forgot to put my name on things or forgot to finish my homework and needed to turn it in late? How could those teachers be so unfeeling?

Well, I got to 6th grade. You know what? My teachers held up papers with no name saying "someone come claim this!" or allowed us to turn in late work with usually just a small amount of points taken off.  Oh... Well, I could deal with that. I guess those 5th grade teachers had it wrong.

Then came 8th grade. My teachers started in on us again. "High school teachers aren't going to hold your hands like we do in middle school. They're just going to give you zeros on late assignments, and won't ask you about them." This time I was a little more skeptical. I'd wait and see what the teachers actually did in high school before I started to panic.

Again, I found out that those warnings were pretty much unfounded. My high school teachers new that we were young adolescents who make mistakes and so they helped us out. They weren't heartless. And I had no reason to fear high school. High school was a lot of fun and I made a lot of friends and grew in lots of ways.

So when in my senior year, the teachers began starting sentences with "You know, once you get to college..." I was having none of it. I didn't doubt that college would be challenging, but I wasn't going to heed the doomsday warnings about how heartless my professors were going to be once I got there.

There certainly was a lot less hand holding in college. Let's face it, a professor who teaches 800 students every semester hardly has time to go searching after one lost sheep, but if I was struggling I could go talk to the professor and they were always willing to help when they saw I was making an honest effort.

And on top of that, college was really fun. I made incredible friends. Laughed, played, worked, cried, grew, struggled, and enjoyed those 5 years. I met my husband in college. I sang in choirs with world-renowned artists. I learned about who I was there. It was just an incredible journey. And one that was over rather quickly (despite the extra year I added in there).

So now... I'm a parent. And I see the same cycle cropping up. Well meaning people warned us before the baby was born, "Get your sleep now because after they're born... forget it." Now that he's here people sometimes tell me, "Well at that age they're easy, wait till they're crawling" or, "wait till they start throwing temper tantrums," or, "just wait until they become teenagers."

And you know what? I'm not having it.

This baby came, and sure, we have less sleep, but we also have this little guy who makes us giggle every day and makes our hearts overflow with happiness when he smiles at us. He's starting to roll over and it's the coolest thing ever to see him figure it out. I love the way he sucks his thumb with his fingers all up in his eyes because he hasn't learned how to curl them down and stick his thumb out at the same time. I love it when he "talks" to me and tells me what he's thinking (even though can't understand it) and I love that he grins from ear to ear when I sing him a song.

He's two and-a-half months old and already he's stopped doing some things he used to do. I loved the way he used to hold perfectly still and stare at me when I sang to him, or the way he would punch himself in the face and then look around like "Hey! Who just hit me?"

He doesn't do those things anymore. They were these beautiful moments and I loved experiencing them. Even though they came right along side diaper blowouts, sleepless nights, crying marathons, and feelings that I had no idea what I was doing. The hard things didn't cancel out the wondrous ones that were happening at the same time.

I don't want to start dreading the problems that this baby will have in the future because then I'll start missing the beautiful things he's doing in the now. It's already going by so fast. He's only going to be this little for so long and I've got to love it while it's here or I'll just have regrets when it's gone.

And then when he becomes a toddler and makes huge messes or throws tantrums or both, I don't want to be worrying about the problems he'll face in school or as a teenager. I'd much rather be enjoying the way he'll say things in funny ways, or the way we'll cuddle on the couch and read stories, or loving his giggle whenever his daddy tackles him. I want to be loving those things even though they come right alongside the tantrums and the tears and the messes.

Because really, when you have a kid this adorable, why would I chose to do anything else?

Thumbs!

Someone has discovered his thumbs this week. Mom finds it totes adorbs.

Rolling

He did it! Nathaniel rolled over for the first time!!

Last night we put him on his blanket on the floor for some tummy time. At first he just laid there, but after a few minutes when Chris and I were chatting, I looked down at him again and exclaimed, "Oh! He's tipping!" And then, whoop! Just like that he was on his back.

Mom and Dad were so proud! Nathaniel himself just looked kind of dazed like, "Whoa. What was that all about?"

We tried putting him back on his tummy to see if we could get the rolling over-nes on camera, but no luck. He was done.

Then this morning, he rolled over three times in front of all my co-workers at a staff meeting. Soooo cool!!

It's official. Being a parent totally rocks my world.

Our little guy is seven weeks old today!

"The older I get, the less judgmental I become."

So in my last post, I discussed that very often, how we parent our children is not a matter of finding the "one true way" to do something. Rather, the Lord expects us to exercise righteous judgment and that there are certainly many ways to accomplish the eternally important work of raising a child.

Following that post, I read a book called "Bottled Up: How the Way We Feed Babies Has Come to Define Motherhood, and Why It Shouldn't." It was such an eye-opening read about the world of breast feeding vs. bottle feeding. My take away from the book, and something that the author seems to plead: we could all stand to be a little less judgmental of other people's parenting choices.

Since becoming a mom, I've been rather dismayed at times to see the overbearing way mothers will pass judgement on other mothers. And I think something that really feeds this problem is the anonymity of the internet. It's rare that I see mom's bash each other in person. Quite the contrary. But take away that face-to-face interaction, and all of a sudden, it becomes fine to not only judge another person's parenting choices, but to often do so in a rather venomous way.

One of my favorite addresses on judging comes from Elder Dallin H. Oaks (a former judge himself). In it he says:

In one of the monthly General Authority fast and testimony meetings, I heard President James E. Faust say, "The older I get, the less judgmental I become." That wise observation gives us a standard to live by in the matter of judgments. We should refrain from anything that seems to be a final judgment of any person—manifesting our determination to leave final judgments to the Lord, who alone has the capacity to judge. 

In the intermediate judgments we must make, we should take care to judge righteously. We should seek the guidance of the Spirit in our decisions. We should limit our judgments to our own stewardships. Whenever possible we should refrain from judging people until we have an adequate knowledge of the facts. So far as possible, we should judge circumstances rather than people. In all our judgments we should apply righteous standards. And, in all of this, we must remember the command to forgive.

So today, I'm asking that we all take a step back, remember that we're all children of the same Father in Heaven, and refrain from unrighteous judgment. We could all stand to be just a little more understanding, a little more loving of each other. Mothering is hard enough, and with loving encouragement, we can all lift each other just a little higher.