Pals, I forgot to post the post partum depression text I had worked on and promised to share. Yesterday was Groundhog Day (this may seem like a big jump, but read on to see the connection). I normally celebrate the silliness of this high holiday. Jim and I usually host a party in honor of the prognosticating Phil. This year we're dealing with a family of 3 to 4 transition, and I'm moving my work office into our home, and Jim's got work stuff for most of the weekends this month., also we're still in negotiations about the kitchen remodel. So, no logistically possible time for the party. Yet... I don't really feel a need for it this year.
The party has served - for me - as a pick me up in the middle of winter. I hate winter. I get a little down during the winter, so gathering friends and family for merriment in the name of a groundhog? Perfect.
But this year I had the seasonal affective thing nipped in the bud when my wise doctor said, "um... let's get you on a little something for the post partum stuff before winter really kicks in." And then I sent her a truck full of flowers.
So, not needing a party reminded me that I hadn't shared my PPD stuff with y'all. I think (very appropriately) we'll reschedule the party for 6 weeks from now, when Phil says Spring will start. I'm not kidding myself: we could still have a blizzard in mid-March. But by then we can celebrate the cusp of melted snow and damp soil and crocus peeking...
Here is what I wrote about two months ago and didn't post because of technical problems:
Pregnancy, we all know, has ups and downs. One of my downs with both kids was some rotten morning sickness. Pregnancy 2 was a little more severe from the start, and I found some relief from Zofran, an anti-nausea medicine.
Both pregnancies ceased with beautiful and healthy children.
They also produced "just a touch" of post partum depression. Pardon me while I go all Brooke Shields here.
I'm not having a problem bonding with my baby. I don't (often, kidding, really) want to mail him to someone else. I am not having terrible thoughts about him - just want to be clear. I adore him. I adore Willa. I really like being a mom to both of them.
It's the small stuff that I found overwhelming: doing laundry, sorting mail, driving anywhere, what to make for dinner, when to take a shower... it feels so ridiculous to write this. It's true though; picking out a new shampoo brand nearly brought me to my knees in the store. Was I ready to go back to work? Nope.
Also? If I could, I would build a moat around our house and family and not let anyone in or out. Post-pregnancy, I've learned, I become a hermit, and I try to take the rest of the Sinkis with me.
If I haven't been in your life as much as normal lately, don't take it personally. I've been kind of blowing off everyone.
So, at this post birth doctor’s appointment, I talked to the doctor about it. "My name is Amy, and I have post partum depression." I left the appointment with a prescription for a breastfeeding safe antidepressant.
It's been two weeks, and I'm feeling more in control of my anxiety, emotions, and time. It's the medicine combined with the fact that Henry is finally getting over his cold. The few glimpses of sun we've seen have helped, as does Willa's enthusiasm for the season: every time she sees Christmas lights she yells, "it's CHRISTMAS!" Jim's hugs and words and actions are like cookies and band aids.
The other night we were in the car. Henry was wailing and Willa was next to him singing a Mary Poppins song at the top of her lungs. A few weeks ago, I would have been grinding my teeth and calculating the minutes to our house. Thanks to medicine, understanding, and time I was able to laugh at the irony of the moment "just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down..."
On the mend, pals. Stick with me.