Dear friends, This weekend we traveled to Spring City, TN, about an hour outside of Chattanooga, to spend the weekend in the home of our close friends. What an amazingly relaxing place! We enjoyed wonderful peace, rocking in chair on the porch and in a hammock by the lake, hiking, fishing, simple small town life- eating ice cream from a stand, enjoying BBQ in a restaurant with only 8 tables, shopping for "antiques" in a little store that had more junk than valuables, but was still fun to explore! L. and I enjoyed the best rest either of us has had in ages and we all enjoyed the amazingly beautiful atmosphere- both inside and out. The B.'s home is more like a house than a cabin- a beautifully appointed cottage with a bathhouse and several patios and a dock. What a blessing to be gifted with a weekend's use.
I was so relaxed on Saturday that I forgot to take my medication and by that evening I had stomach pains- I thought it was from the spicy Italian sausage pasta I had made. By Sunday morning I was still in pain and remembered that I had not taken my Lexapro. A side effect of both taking and forgetting to take the drug is stomach pains and headache. Six months out, I am struggling to find the balance between feeling better and not yet quite being back to feeling myself or feeling "ready" to taper off my medications. The thoughts of that alone are anxiety producing. My other big anxiety triggers right now are my search for a nanny to "replace" B.- our AMAZING nanny who weathered the storm of PPD with us since L. was 3 weeks old. She'll be with us until July when she moves back to her hometown. The standard has been set so high now, that I am having a difficult time even reading resumes and wanting to interview folks. I know I need to, though, and I have 3 scheduled for this week. How do you trust your most treasured gift in life in the hands of someone else? A tough one... Even tougher seems to be the thoughts, that while now more normal than obsessive, still occupy my brain. When I was in the midst of my PPD, I was obsessed with the idea of become pregnant again or making a decision to or not to have more children. Dr. Arnold consistently encourages me not to make those decisions now, and that in a few years, when it would be appropriate to have another child if we decided to, I will be better equipped to "know." I wish it were that easy for me to just put a decision aside. It never has been. I prefer to have it "all figured out" and anticipate every possibility way in advance. My father often teases that I could have planned the invasion of Normandy way better than any General! I don't think it's meant to be a compliment, but in some ways I used to take it as one.
M. and I continue to be on the roller coaster that follows the devastation of PPD. We are both so in love with L. and at 6 months he simply couldn't be more adorable or precious. On the other hand, our life as we knew it was thrown into a blender just 6 months ago and now we are trying to put all those little pieces back together. Add to the mix two stubborn Type A personalities and opinionated about everything tendencies and you've got the recipe for quite an explosive result. Love takes you through the storm, but the clean-up and repair after takes a whole different kind of dedication.
I started reading a book last night entitled, "The Lifter of my Head: How God Sustained me During Postpartum Depression" by Susan McRoberts. I felt like I was reading my own story. I finally had to stop on page 106, as I knew I couldn't finish the entire book before I needed to go to sleep, but I really wanted to continue. Except for the two children that she already had, I felt like this woman was experiencing the 3 months of my life following L.'s birth . The knowledge of PPD in hand, but the absolute and utter shock and despair that accompanied the OCD and other more complicated aspects of the PPD that we experienced. The "fog," the inability to remember if we had completed everyday tasks such as washing our hair moments after exiting the shower. The courage and energy necessary to even clip my nails on my worst days. The absolute knowledge that we would not hurt our babies or ourselves, but the feelings that we would both be better off without each other. The belief that is as strong as everything, except your faith in God, that you have the worst case of PPD anyone has ever experienced and that due to that you will be unable to recover, despite what doctors, your husband and everyone else tells you. And, most importantly, the unequivocal and unshakable knowledge that God is by your side and that Jesus is literally carrying you through the seconds, minutes, and hours that each seem like years when you are suffering.
Praise God, that He has healed Susan and me. May He heal all that suffer emotionally and may He gift those who surround those suffering with mercy, understanding, peace, hope and above all, the ability to fully forgive their loved one for something that wasn't anyone's fault in the first place.
I hope you have a day filled with blue skies.
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I was so relaxed on Saturday that I forgot to take my medication and by that evening I had stomach pains- I thought it was from the spicy Italian sausage pasta I had made. By Sunday morning I was still in pain and remembered that I had not taken my Lexapro. A side effect of both taking and forgetting to take the drug is stomach pains and headache. Six months out, I am struggling to find the balance between feeling better and not yet quite being back to feeling myself or feeling "ready" to taper off my medications. The thoughts of that alone are anxiety producing. My other big anxiety triggers right now are my search for a nanny to "replace" B.- our AMAZING nanny who weathered the storm of PPD with us since L. was 3 weeks old. She'll be with us until July when she moves back to her hometown. The standard has been set so high now, that I am having a difficult time even reading resumes and wanting to interview folks. I know I need to, though, and I have 3 scheduled for this week. How do you trust your most treasured gift in life in the hands of someone else? A tough one... Even tougher seems to be the thoughts, that while now more normal than obsessive, still occupy my brain. When I was in the midst of my PPD, I was obsessed with the idea of become pregnant again or making a decision to or not to have more children. Dr. Arnold consistently encourages me not to make those decisions now, and that in a few years, when it would be appropriate to have another child if we decided to, I will be better equipped to "know." I wish it were that easy for me to just put a decision aside. It never has been. I prefer to have it "all figured out" and anticipate every possibility way in advance. My father often teases that I could have planned the invasion of Normandy way better than any General! I don't think it's meant to be a compliment, but in some ways I used to take it as one.
M. and I continue to be on the roller coaster that follows the devastation of PPD. We are both so in love with L. and at 6 months he simply couldn't be more adorable or precious. On the other hand, our life as we knew it was thrown into a blender just 6 months ago and now we are trying to put all those little pieces back together. Add to the mix two stubborn Type A personalities and opinionated about everything tendencies and you've got the recipe for quite an explosive result. Love takes you through the storm, but the clean-up and repair after takes a whole different kind of dedication.
I started reading a book last night entitled, "The Lifter of my Head: How God Sustained me During Postpartum Depression" by Susan McRoberts. I felt like I was reading my own story. I finally had to stop on page 106, as I knew I couldn't finish the entire book before I needed to go to sleep, but I really wanted to continue. Except for the two children that she already had, I felt like this woman was experiencing the 3 months of my life following L.'s birth . The knowledge of PPD in hand, but the absolute and utter shock and despair that accompanied the OCD and other more complicated aspects of the PPD that we experienced. The "fog," the inability to remember if we had completed everyday tasks such as washing our hair moments after exiting the shower. The courage and energy necessary to even clip my nails on my worst days. The absolute knowledge that we would not hurt our babies or ourselves, but the feelings that we would both be better off without each other. The belief that is as strong as everything, except your faith in God, that you have the worst case of PPD anyone has ever experienced and that due to that you will be unable to recover, despite what doctors, your husband and everyone else tells you. And, most importantly, the unequivocal and unshakable knowledge that God is by your side and that Jesus is literally carrying you through the seconds, minutes, and hours that each seem like years when you are suffering.
Praise God, that He has healed Susan and me. May He heal all that suffer emotionally and may He gift those who surround those suffering with mercy, understanding, peace, hope and above all, the ability to fully forgive their loved one for something that wasn't anyone's fault in the first place.
I hope you have a day filled with blue skies.