Crazy? I Was Crazy Once.

A year has passed since Beulah was born. As I reflect on my time as a mother, one thought comes to mind; I was CRAZY!! I haven't talked about my PPD (postpartum depression) here since I confessed my need for medication. It has been a process. There have been ups and downs. But, I want to praise the LORD today that I am Zoloft free!!

When Andy married me, I think he thought he had it easy. No one, including me, could tell a difference in my moods when I had PMS. I never had cramps. My periods were light and short, and I was always bubbly and positive. All that changed the day Beulah was born. We have several ways of referring to the period of time (Beulah's first 8-10 months) that PPD ruled. Andy is a good and sweet husband and kindly refers to it as the time when I was in a "fog". I just say, "I was crazy!"

When I was in the fog, I didn't realize how crazy I was. I thought everyone else was crazy. But, coming out of it and looking back, I see that I was, in fact...crazy!

This weekend on our way home from Atlanta, we decided to stop at the outlet mall in Commerce for a while. We had a great time walking around with Mike & Ria, wandering in and out of shops, and enjoying the beautiful weather. Beulah took a short nap on Andy in the Baby Bjorn, I fed her in the car, and Ria & I played peek-a-boo and other games with her on the way home. At one point she started to get fussy, and I didn't know what she needed. I felt myself get the tiniest bit anxious, and then I remembered. I remembered what I was like before...when I was crazy. I played the whole scenario in my head and allowed myself to image what my reaction would have been like if I were still in my fog.

My PPD manifested itself in several different ways; ways that mimic a combination of other disorders. The most overt manifestation was my obsession with numbers. The hospital asks you to keep records of food intake and diaper output while you're in the hospital. Pediatricians don't require you to continue record keeping once released, but I did anyway. That was one early clue that something was wrong. But, it seemed right to me. While I couldn't control HER and I couldn't force her to eat or go to the bathroom, I could control the numbers on the paper.

I have always been a slave to the clock, but when my PPD was at it's worst, I could not deviate from my self-imposed schedule even one minute or the anxiety would take over and that would lead to anger. I also obsessed about the amount of food she took in. As you may remember, I kept a rented hospital scale at our house for a month or longer. I weighed Beulah (naked, no-less) before and after every breast feeding, and whatever she didn't get from me, I supplemented with formula. I was terrified about not knowing how much she took in while nursing, and I did not trust my instincts. But, I trusted the numbers. And, poor Andy, if he made a bottle and didn't put in perfectly level scoops of formula, he was going to hear about it. It was even worse if he was pouring breast-milk into a bottle and didn't get every last drop of that "liquid gold" into the bottle she would drink! Poor guy couldn't do anything right in my eyes during that time. (More on that later.)

I also had to put Beulah down for naps on time or I would implode. If I needed to go out for any reason during the day, I would get every single little thing we might need while we were out ready while she was asleep, and when she woke up it was go time. If she woke up before I was finished getting ready...well, how many times can I say "anxiety" in one post? If we were out and it was getting close to time for her to go back down, the anxiety would start to rise, I would start rushing, Beulah would start to sense my anxiety and start fussing, then we would just feed off each other creating this vicious cycle. (I managed to get "anxiety" in that sentence two more times! Woo hoo!) It was all about the clock. And, again, I refer to him as "poor Andy", but if he made the slightest sound within Beulah's ear shot while she was sleeping, he saw my eyes turn red with anger.

The Zoloft definitely helped. I could feel myself start to relax a few short days after I started taking it. My doctor wisely recommended that I stay on the medication during the holidays, as they tend to be stressful. So, in January I started to wean. A lot of my old symptoms resurfaced in January. In February, the symptoms were present during ovulation when the hormones shift drastically. In March, the symptoms continued to decrease, and now in April I am starting to feel like my old self again. Praise the LORD!!

I have so much joy every day now. Being Beulah's mom is more than I could ever ask or imagine. Andy and I look at each other everyday and shake our heads in amazement at how happy she is and how blessed we are to be her parents. Andy's mom described it best, we've gone from "Rags to riches!" That's exactly how we feel.

I still try to keep to a schedule, but most of the time I'm WAY more laid back if things aren't going as planned. I'm still obsessed with her cleanliness. For some reason I can't stand the thought of her clothes getting stained or ruined, so I can be pretty controlling during feedings. I tell myself it doesn't matter and I shouldn't be that way, but it doesn't change. And, I'm still trying to figure out how to cope when I'm cooking and she's hanging on my legs. That's the one time I get really anxious. I think it's because cooking is so time sensitive and I can't always just stop and tend to her when there's food on the stove.

In my fog, I felt justified in all of my thoughts and actions. I couldn't imagine feeling any different. I thought everyone else should feel exactly like I did, and I got angry when they didn't. I would tell Andy through tears that I just wanted somebody else to care as much as I did and to understand how important all this was. He and my mom got the brunt of it. They are saints in my eyes. I seemed to control myself better around Andy's mom, but I wasn't hiding anything. She saw it and was a huge help too, as was Andy's sister. Others would come just to sit with me and keep me company, encourage me, or help out if I needed it. I thank God so much for putting people around me to help ground me.

I'm sure I haven't even begun to see all the damage that was done during that time. I know that my controlling behavior effected Andy's confidence as a dad. It made him gun-shy to try anything. He was afraid that I would reprimand him for not doing things like I thought they should be done. But, thankfully, our LORD is in the healing business, and He has started the healing process already. I try to give Andy freedom to become the dad that God wants him to be. I try to stand back and let him find his own ways of interacting with Beulah and his own ways of accomplishing the tasks related to her care. That's not always easy, but it is necessary. It's not just women who go through PPD. Men go through it too. If you know a man going through PPD with his wife, encourage him. Send him a link to this so that he can see there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I thank God for His grace in healing our family. It gives me hope that we could do this again if He chooses to bless us with another child!