I have had a couple of people ask me lately how I am doing with the Postpartum Depression and although it caused a bit of a stir last time I talked about it because of some of the wording that was used, I wanted to post an update for a couple of reasons. The first reason being that it is still a part of my life. It's in a different form, and much less part of my life now, but regardless, it's still a part. The second reason being that I got such an amazing response when I started to talk about PPD from lots of new moms that were going through the same thing, that I wanted to share my story with the aftermath of the PPD.

I want to start out by saying that finally, eight months after Jackson Douglas was born, I am PPD free. Having said that, don't get all excited thinking that I am back to normal, because I'm still a little crazy in the head. :) I may now be PPD free, but I am still struggling with Postpartum Anxiety (PPA) and maybe even a little Postpartum OCD tossed in the mix, because hey, why not?

Anxiety is a part of every one's lives. It is a normal response to things that happen in our lives and more often than not, it can actually be helpful. It can help you concentrate and focus on tasks or help you avoid dangerous situations. At work, I do best when I am under pressure. Give me a deadline, and I'll meet it. Give me all the time in the world, and I'll eventually get there. Before Emma and Jackson came along, I would say that I had a "healthy" level of anxiety. Enough to get me to focus, but that was it. Now, with the PPA, although it tends to come and go, it affects me in a very different way.

I stopped going to therapy several months ago when I was doing a lot better with the PPD, so you will have to take all of whats to come with a grain of salt because its pretty much all through self-diagnosis. So, in other words, I could be totally wrong. :)

One of the questions that I tend to ask myself a lot is if I actually have PPA, or if my "healthy" level of anxiety that I had before just got a dose of Emeril and "kicked it up a notch". BAM! In my mind, its PPA because it tends to revolve around the babies. For example, on the weekends, I usually feel very anxious about timing my errands with the babies schedule. Having a schedule both helps, and hurts the anxiety. It keeps the babies happy, but tends to freak me out if the routine needs to be interrupted. I stress about finding the time to get a haircut (which I haven't done in months), paint my toenails, take two hours to go buy clothes for myself. And if I finally do, I feel so incredibly guilty about taking "me" time, that I usually just stop and rush home.

I have started a couple of months ago to have random irrational fears. The biggest irrational fear that I have is now driving over bridges by myself, with both Emma and Jackson in the car. It been building for a little while now, so much so, that I have to take a different route to my parents house to avoid going over a bridge when I'm in the car with the babies. I'm afraid that something is going to happen to the bridge or there will be an accident that causes our car to go over the side and I don't know how I will save both of my babies because I am by myself. There's more to it than that, but I'll just leave it there for now.

Another example of the irrational fear that I have is at parties. Even if we are in a room full of just family members, I get really anxious when I can't see or hear either both of my babies. What if someone that was holding my Squishy, just ran off with him. That usually then sends me into a spiral where all I can think about is what I would do if that happened. Lately, this has been more focused on Squishy for some reason. Maybe it's because he has become so attached to Mama that he is always by my side or attached to my hip at home. I have this irrational fear that something or someone is going to take him away from me.

Now, this is where I go a little crazy with the self diagnosing. So get out the popcorn. :)

I mentioned a while back that I was reading the book, When Panic Attacks. It's still sitting on my nightstand half read, so maybe one day when the kids are in college I'll actually have time to finish it. It didn't take long for some of the information in the book to really hit home and help me connect the dots. I pretty much fell off my chair when I got to the section that talked about Perceived Perfectionism. Basically the thought that "People will not love and accept me as a flawed and vulnerable human being."

I know. It's getting deep in here. Hang in there. I promise it's coming around. :)

I can directly tie my PPA, to my need for Perceived Perfectionism, with a little PPOCD thrown into the mix. One of the things that causes me a high level of anxiety, despite fully knowing that it's ridiculous, is getting ready to take the kids to any type of party/gathering. I'm not talking about the usual chaos that ensues when you have a two and half year old and eight month old anytime you try to leave the house. I'm talking about my NEED to have it look like I have the perfect little family with nicely dressed, recently bathed babies. Usually we head out after nap time, and leaving the house is crazy enough. However, I can not force myself to leave the house after nap time (even when we are late) without having given both babies a bath right after nap time. In my head, I think, you big dummy, just give the kids a bath BEFORE nap time, because that's one less thing that you have to do when trying to leave the house because its crazy enough. Nope. No can do. The thought of giving them a bath then putting them down for a nap drives me crazy because kids get sweaty when they sleep. Their hair gets messed up. What if I take my babies to a party with messy hair?!?! The world might actually end. Obviously, thats an exagerations and my brain knows that's not true, but that's not what my body tells me.

By the way, if you are still reading this far into this crazy post, then you deserve an award. :)

Because of this need for Perceived Perfection, my PPA jumps up a level, even when I know it's ridiculous in my head. This tends to be a vicious cycle. It causes me to set unrealistic goals. Then, it gives me anxiety while trying to reach that unrealistic goal and failing (which was inevitable). The constant pressure to work for this perceived perfection is exhausting.
 
So, despite the fact that you probably think I am a lunatic now (yikes), I'm actually doing okay with it all. There are just certain things (like the bath time thing) that I have accepted and just deal with now because its just what I need to do at this point. If it makes me feel less anxious if I am 20 minutes late because I had to give both babies a bath, then so be it. With other things, I'm working on trying to change from the perfectionistic attitude and realize that perfectionism is unattainable. Whenever I come across a self-defeating thought, I take a step back, challenge it and try to recognize the behaviors that are fueling it. I'm also trying to experiment with my standards for success. Here's a good example...cleaning. That's another area that tends to give me HIGH levels of anxiety because what if someone came into my house and it was dirty!!! GAH! Well, instead of cleaning like a crazy person all the time, I'll try to clean like 90%, 80% or on some days, not at all. The world doesn't end when my mom comes over and there is dog hair on the floor. Although sometimes my body tends to make me feel that way.

I'm also trying to avoid all-or-none thinking. Like, if Jackson can't have a bath before we leave for a party but Emma can, we might as well not go! Umm...no you big dope. If I only have time for one bath, that's what we will do and I'll pick the dirtiest child. Which on some days, is a close race. :)

I know in my brain that this need for perceived perfectionism is not a helpful or necessary influence in my life, I just have to convince the rest of me that its true. It doesn't affect me everyday. Sometimes, I can ignore it. Sometimes, it drives me crazy. Sometimes, it rules the day.

Despite Mommy being a little crazy in the head, we still manage to have some fun. Like with pretend Birthday parties (which Squishy is clearly thrilled about) and pretend trips to the airport with Pink Bear in our new Dora backpack so we can go visit Gigi.

Here's to a weekend full of Christmas fun! Including a trip to the "Tree Farm" as Emma calls it to go find our perfect Christmas tree that will be decorated to perfection. Ha! Just Kidding. Sort of. :) Gah.

Sunshine, Rainbows & Baby Bottoms

I thought a lot about whether or not I should address my post a few days ago about "cussing out" Jackson, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to say a few things.

You probably have noticed that I deleted the post (if you read it). It apparently upset several family members and that certainly wasn't my intention. I apologize if I upset anyone, and looking back I certainly used the wrong wording that gave a wrong impression. I will be much more careful how I word things in the future. I know that different reactions are possible when you put your life out on the Internet, and that's certainly a chance that I take.

I originally debated whether or not to post anything about my struggle with PPD but its something that's hard to understand unless you have lived it or are close to it. It's especially hard to understand if you are somewhat removed from the situation and don't see the daily ups and downs. Posting about PPD on the blog was my only way to try to describe what we was going through to help people understand, but messages seem to be getting crossed along the way.

But I have to say..that I'm a good mom.

I'm not perfect by any means, but I am a good mom. I know that because my kids are loved more than anything in this entire world. I know that because my kids light up when I walk in the room. I know that because my kids are happy, healthy, provided for, safe and thriving.

I'm a good mom that is struggling with PPD. I'm a good mom that got frustrated in the middle of the night after a very tough couple of weeks, just like millions of other moms out there. I just decided to put it on our blog and I used the wrong words to do so. I never once raised my voice at my son. I changed his diaper, gave him a bottle, burped him, rocked him back to sleep and then cried. I then got up with him again three hours later, brought him into our bed and let him sleep on my chest because I know my son, I love him and I know that comforts him.

Again, I apologize if I upset anyone and if my wording gave the wrong impression. My kids are loved, and they know that. Nothing else matters to me.

So in the future, I'll stick to posting about sunshine, rainbows and little babies that raise their bottoms in the air while sleeping in the exact same position every night.

Update on New Year's Resolution: To Simplify

I was thinking the other day about how I was doing on my New Year's Resolution for 2011 about simplifying and although in some ways I was still doing okay, in most ways, I had lost the end goal. So, I can pretty much sum up with one word, how I am doing with simplifying my life...

FAIL

I was actually doing pretty good for a while, with things like Brain Dumps, keeping up with our budget, and even though I haven't updated my Project Simplify page yet, I actually did most of the activities (I just have to download the before and after pictures and post about it).

But, the good news is that once you fall off the wagon, it doesn't mean you are off the wagon for good. There is always another wagon coming behind you, ready to pick you up. Much like the commuter buses that practically run me off the road on a daily basis during my commute home. There is always one right behind me. Argh.

This is my attempt to get back on the wagon. This is my attempt to remind myself what it's all about. This is my attempt to remind myself that it is my choice to be stressed or not stressed in the majority of situations. This is my attempt to remind myself to do a better job at choosing my own response to situations. Now, the tough part with that one is where the PPD comes into play. A lot of my stress, or anxiety, is caused by the PPD and it's harder to shake now than it was before. For example, before any kind of event that we go to, whether its big or small, whether its a work event or just heading to my parent's house for dinner, I need to give both my kids a bath directly before leaving the house. Do I know that leaving the house with two young kids is bad enough? Yup. Do I know that I could give them a bath before nap time which would make leaving the house easier? Yup. Do I know that the world is not going to end if I don't give my kids a bath before going to my parent's house for hot dogs and hamburgers? Yup. Can I just say "forget it today"? Nope.

Despite all of that, and despite the fact that I know how stupid it is in my head, it gives me extreme anxiety to think about my kids not having a bath and not smelling like absolute heaven when they snuggle with their Mimi and Pop. It gives me extreme anxiety to think about giving them a bath before nap time, and having them wake up all sweaty, and not giving them another bath before leaving the house. So, although I am trying to remind myself to do a better job at choosing my own response to situations, it's not always going to work. And I'm okay with that. But in the end...

"Stress isn’t happening to me, it’s a reaction to a situation I’m allowing."

In some ways I have gotten a little better, like with the desperate need to clean the house like I had while at home with Jackson on maternity leave. Does it still bother me? Yup. But I don't have enough time to really be bothered by it and I can now make the choice to let the dishes sit for a night, or not sweep the floor until tomorrow because I would rather spend that time snuggling and playing with my babies.

Now, as far as the budget goes, that's pretty much been a total loss lately. :) While on maternity leave I didn't really pay attention to it. It was the last thing on my mind. I came back to work, updated it for a month, and then let it slip. So, instead of forcing myself to sit down for 2 hours and go back through the entire month of July, I'm scrapping July, and starting over in August. I'm choosing to not stress out about not following our budget in July. Remind me I said that when I realize that I am broke in August because of that. :)
 
So although its pretty much been a big FAIL lately, it's still on my mind and one of these days, I'll get back on track.

The Six Stages of Postpartum Depression

When this whole postpartum depression thing started after Jackson was born, and I was thrust into medication and therapy, one thing I struggled with was how I was going to know when I was better. How do I know the difference between the postpartum anxiety, and just the 'typical' anxiety that comes along with having two young kids, 21 months apart. When I came back from my first therapy appointment, Wes's first question to me was, "So, are you going to go back again?"

Ummm....yes.

And in Wes's defense, neither he or I really yet understood what we were up against. And it certianly is a "we". It takes two.

It was a struggle sometimes to get people to see that it's not something you get over in one day. It's not something that one therapy session is going to fix. It's not something where the doctor says "Take this medication for two weeks and you will be fine." You don't know when it is going to end. You can't tell anyone when it is going to end. Something that I am still learning today through therapy, is that you can't rush it. It can take months, and sometimes years to fully be able to say "I'm cured".

That completely sucks.

I saw on another blog about the link between PPD and the famous "5 Stages of Grief." I was pretty amazed as I was reading it, thinking back on the past four months and how I certainly hit every single one of those stages, head on.

You are probably thinking...umm...Laura...the post is called the SIX stages of PPD...not the FIVE stages of PPD...but keep your pants on...that parts coming. :)

Denial: I certainly was in denial my first three weeks with Jackson. I absolutely just thought this must be what life is like with two young kids. I'll be fine. I just need more sleep.

"Looking back, there were certainly signs of the PPD setting in already, but in the moment, it was far from my mind and I assumed that a lot of what I was feeling was natural for having two young kids."

"I just thought that it would get better. If I could just hold on through the first couple of weeks, it would get better. I thought that it was just because I was so tired. I thought, if I could only get my linen closet organized I would be all better."

Anger: This was the "why me" phase, and a lot of which I went through the weekend after I was diagnosed with PPD and couldn't face being at home. I don't want to have to take medication to cope with life. I don't want to go to therapy. I shouldn't have had to call the doctor. It isn't fair. I was so angry at Emma for the smallest things. I was yelling at her all the time, and to this day, I am still trying to make up for it.

"I was exhausted, completely exhausted, but it was physically impossible for me to sleep. Yet at the same time, I felt hopeless that I would never catch up to my own expectations. Which turned into guilt, feelings of being overwhelmed, an inability to make simple decisions, irritability, frustration, anger, feelings of inadequacy as a mother, and even more anxiety."

Bargaining: If I just do this, or just do this...I'll be fine. This is where a lot of recommendations from others were hard to handle. I did the same thing to myself, but deep down, I knew, it wasn't about eating right, it wasn't about exercising, it wasn't about having an organized house, or an organized linen closet. In my mind, it was all about Jackson. If I could just get to where he was sleeping through the night. If I could just keep breastfeeding him. If I could just do "this", it will go away.

"I thought, if I could only get my linen closet organized I would be all better."

Depression: This stage is fairly obvious I think...

"That weekend was probably the toughest weekend of my life. It was like I couldn't face being at home. I needed to get out. I needed to get out of my head. I needed to get out of my house."

"During the days I felt okay, but like I was just passing through life, but not really involved. I was going through the motions of changing diapers, feeding bottles, but mentally I was somewhere else, doing whatever I could to not think about things."

"Why in the world wouldn't I want to be around my Emma? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I handle things like before? Why did I just want to be alone, when I felt so alone at the same time? Why didn't I want to be at home? When was I going to be able to go home? When would I feel normal again? Why couldn't I be the mom that I wanted to be? What kind of mom wants to be away from her kids so bad? Why was I failing at life?"

"I finally, after what seemed like an eternity, got him to sleep and I just broke in half. I handed Jackson off to my dad, and just cried in my mom's arms."

"I feel like I am a weak person. Like all of this came about because I can't handle being a mother of two young children. I feel like a failure."

Acceptance: This is the stage where you finally give in to having PPD. You don't use it as an excuse, but you give yourself permission to not be okay some days. You finally realize it's not your fault. Its okay to talk to a doctor. It's okay for me to ask for help. Its okay to take medication and be in therapy or do whatever is necessary for me and my family.

"And even though my bedside table has a book about anxiety along with anxiety medication, it also has a pacifier and baby monitor on it that reminds me how truly lucky I am that I am a mom to two amazing babies."

"I'm fighting postpartum depression and anxiety and in the end, I will win. But the battle won't be pretty. I'm not always going to handle it well. I'm not always going to be good at telling people what I need, or explaining what I am going through, or being patient with those who are trying to help me. I'm not going to feel like Warrior Mom every single day."

"You don't have to "win" every day. You don't have to be Warrior Mom, or Supermom. Whether you have PPD or not, whether we are working moms or not, we don't have to take each hit with a smile. It's okay to be a "Regular" mom, because frankly, that's hard enough."

The quotes above are directly from my previous posts about PPD.

So where am I now?

I'm in the stage that comes after acceptance, during treatment and during the time when you start feeling better but aren't quite 100%. Someone once called it the post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD stage. I'm here because even after four months of being treated and getting better, its going to take me who knows how much longer to really get over what I went through. To get over how angry I was at Emma. To get over the thoughts that I had about hurting Jackson. To get over the fact that I needed to leave my home in order to be "okay". To get over the anxiety that I am still very much struggling with today.

Like I said in the beginning, its hard to figure out when you know you are better. But its easier to know when you are not. Sometimes, its hard to tell if you are just having a "regular" bad day, or if its PPD. On most days, I feel like I have lost confidence in myself, mostly as a mother, and I don't know if I'll ever get it back. Some days, there are rays of sunshine though, where I feel like Supermom. But my own definition of Supermom.

I'm going to get there, it just make take a while. But I know I am going to get there because of those days that I feel like Supermom now. Those little glimpses of hope, that I will soon begin to fully feel the love that was always there, just stuck under the big rock called PPD.

Fevers, Rashes, Colic & Alternators

What a combination.

That's what yesterday was all about. Here's a quick description of what life was like yesterday, in all it's glory.

They day started out pretty normal with both kids waking up around 5:45AM. Crikey. This has become a new habit, mostly for Emma Kathryn in the last week or two. It doesn't matter if she stays up later the night before, it doesn't matter if she only had a short nap the day before, no matter what, she has been up at 5:45AM every morning for the past week and a half. Jackson seemed to wake up fine and happy as a clam and we got ready for work and were surprisingly ready at a decent time. The Nanny came over and I was off to work. Wes decided to work from home since his boss was out of the office.

Everything was fine that day, Emma was fine, Jackson had a great day, seemed like a typical day. I was having a pretty crazy day at work, and have been struggling a bit with the PPD over the past few days, but I was making it through the day. I ended up having to work until about 6:00PM and should have/could have worked much later but I knew Wes was home with the babies by himself around dinner time which is always tough for either parent. I planned on signing on and getting some work done after the babies were in bed. Needless to say, that didn't happen.

::: tries to start car :::

::: car doesn't make a sound :::

::: car is totally dead :::

::: kicks car :::

::: wipes forehead because it's 1,000,000 degrees out :::

::: kicks car again :::

::: calls home :::

I have to back up here for one minute because our car actually died on Sunday as well, but Wes went and bought a brand new battery which seemed to do the trick, and which got me to work perfectly fine. Round two.

Wes comes to get me at work with a VERY whiny toddler and a seemingly fine infant. We can't even jump the car, so it spends the night in my work's parking lot, where it is still resting. Stupid car.

We get home, Emma is VERY cranky, refusing to eat dinner (which was surprising because it was a hot dog which she LOVES), and when I was snuggling with her I felt her head which was clearly warm.

::: takes Emma's temperature :::

::: 103 degrees :::

::: gets ready for a long night :::

We then find out that Emma's Nanny, after heading home early, took a nap, woke up with a fever and has been throwing up ever since. So after a dose of Motrin, Emma heads off to bed early (after not touching her milk which is a big red flag) and Mommy immediately starts Puke Patrol 2011.

::: gets out washcloths :::

::: makes sure washing machine is empty and ready ::::

::: removes all stuffed animals from crib :::

::: places bucket by Emma's door :::

::: has panic attack :::

This is when we insert Jackson's colic freak out, which has been reoccurring lately out of no where. So I then spend about 45 minutes listening to a SCREAMING baby, trying to get him to sleep. Finally he passes out and Puke Patrol 2011 continues.

I kept checking in on Emma, who was white as a ghost just laying in her bed not falling asleep, moaning and groaning. This goes on until about 10:00PM, so she has been laying there for almost 2.5 hours by this point. She begs to go downstairs, so we turn on a little Tigger and Pooh, and relocate all of the Puke Patrol equipment downstairs. And we wait. Every move she makes, we jump up. Every noise she makes, we jump up.

Miraculously, Emma starts to feel better around 11:30PM, she is chatting again, laughing at Tigger and Pooh, almost back to her old self again. We head upstairs to bed and she.is.wired. We eventually give in and bring her in our bed and she starts hitting Mommy and Daddy with pink bear. Then she starts to tickle Daddy. Then she snuggles on top of Mommy. She continues to beg to go back downstairs. She stands up. She sits up. She jumps on the bed. She "reads" her Shapes book, and by "reads" it I mean that she hits Mommy and Daddy in the head with it. She smacks Mommy once again with pink bear...

This continues for another three hours.

::: falls asleep at computer :::

::: wakes up to continue story :::

We give up and Emma goes back in her crib, only to talk and play for another half hour before finally going to sleep. She was up again this morning at 5:45AM. Ouch.
  

Emma has also had a rash for a few weeks now. It’s all around her diaper area, on her thighs and recently started to crawl up her belly. She has seen her pediatrician about it, he prescribed some hydrocortisone cream that seems to help, but hasn’t actually gotten rid of it. He also looked at it again at her 2 year check up and it was still there, so he said it was probably from the heat and her diaper irritating her, so it will probably stick around for the rest of the summer. It does seem to get worse after she comes in from playing outside, or if she gets really hot, but no matter how long we let her run around with no diaper on (outside of course), we just can't shake it. The doctor didn’t seem to think it was any affect from the potential antibiotics she could be on from the VUR study, but I contacted her urologist today who wants us to send in a picture.

We still have to figure out this crazy car thing as it is still sitting in the parking lot at work, and we think its the alternator (thanks to input from the big brother), but fingers crossed, that's all it is considering the car is a 1996 with 195,000 miles on it. :)

Warrior Mom vs. "Regular" Mom

I've written a couple of times about how Postpartum Depression is a roller coaster, and if you read my blog, it's probably pretty clear. One day I feel like Supermom, and the next day I'm lost. The past few weeks have certainly been no different. I was doing really well over the past week or so, feeling like I was back to myself, or at least mostly there, but then I started to slip again in the past day or two. I came across a blog about other moms who are struggling with postpartum depression and they were talking about being the Warrior Mom, and how using that imagery can truly help get you though the day, and PPD in general. There have absolutely been those days where I feel pretty good getting out of bed, and tell myself that I am going to fight this thing with everything I've got and that PPD is a goner. That Warrior Mom/Supermom frame of mind certainly is empowering because on those days, I have a say in what happens.

At the same time, its too much pressure.

Something that I have learned recently from other moms out there is that you don't have to be a hero. You don't have to "win" every day. You don't have to be Warrior Mom, or Supermom. Whether you have PPD or not, whether we are working moms or not, we don't have to take each hit with a smile. It's okay to be a "Regular" mom, because frankly, that's hard enough.

That's something that never even crossed my mind.

It's something that is easy to forget. 

It's also easy to forget that it's okay to cry. Although that sounds very cliche, I know that I have this unrealistic expectation (and I'm assuming other moms out there do to), that I should be able to handle everything, and do it with a smile. I should be able to handle taking both kids to the grocery store. I should be able to handle taking both kids to a birthday party by myself. I should be able to have the career I want, the perfect marriage, perfectly behaved children who eat nothing but fruit and vegetables, all while looking like a million bucks.

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Enough.

Enough of my own expectations.

Enough of society's expectations that we are all Supermoms.

Enough of being ashamed or embarrassed that I cry.

Enough of being mad or disappointed that I get frustrated as hell taking both kids to the store and wanting to avoid it at all costs.

Enough of being mad or disappointed that I'm going through PPD.

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I'm fighting postpartum depression and anxiety and in the end, I will win. But the battle won't be pretty. I'm not always going to handle it well. I'm not always going to be good at telling people what I need, or explaining what I am going through, or being patient with those who are trying to help me. I'm not going to feel like Warrior Mom every single day.

From here on out, I am giving myself permission to have five great days in a row and then two horrible ones. Or five horrible days in a row with two good ones.

PPD or not, I hope other moms out there do the same.

It's not about whether or not we are Vice Presidents of a company, or if we argue with our spouses, or if our kids each french fries for dinner with a side of marshmallows, or how we look. It's about making it through something, whether its postpartum depression or just a regular day, the best we can.

Today I Feel Like Supermom

On a "typical" day, I loath SuperMom. I know she is out there somewhere, looking down and laughing at us moms that don't quite have all of our ducks in a row. Most likely because one of our kids took a duck and threw it in the toilet while the other kid was feeding a duck to the dog. She is out there somewhere in her extremely clean and organized house, sitting in her skinny jeans folding a fitted sheet into a perfect square while her apple pie is baking in the oven, her kids are just finishing up counting to 100 in Spanish and she is on the phone with her boss who is giving her a big promotion at work.

But not today SuperMom!

I don't know what it is, maybe it's the new anxiety medication kicking in, maybe its the fact that we had an awesome weekend where my baby boy became Catholic and my baby girl turned two. Maybe it's because I am finally seeing the scale move in a downward direction, maybe it's because today is a good PPD day, who knows. All I know that is today, I feel like SuperMom and I am going to ride this wave as long as I can.

My fitted sheets aren't folded in a perfect square, Emma ate a microwaved hot dog for her Birthday dinner last night followed by a piece of cake (healthy I know), Jackson spit up all over my shoulder as we were talking to a salesperson about a new stone patio just prior to finally pooping for the first time in four days, I was so exhausted I didn't have the energy to go for a run and I ate left over salad and ice cream from Emma's party for dinner while Wes polished off the pasta salad, some Melba toast, two pieces of ham, leftover fruit salad and a freezer pop. I have no idea what we are going to do for dinner tonight, my clothes hamper is full, we have a ton of ironing to do, the heel of my shoe snapped off yesterday at work so I bobbed my way out to my car which has no gas in it, the only beverages I consumed yesterday were coffee and a Corona. My bedroom is a mess, the baby pools from Emma's and Jackson's party are still filled with water and filling up with more grass and dirt by the minute, our carpet is already dirty again after just having it cleaned, my toenail polish is completed chipped off from a pedicure that I had the week of Mother's Day and did I mention how exhausted I am?

Despite all of that, I still feel like SuperMom.

You know why?

My kids are healthy and thriving.

Emma had the best weekend of her life.

Jackson is growing like a weed and is as manly as ever.

I have a loving and incredibly supportive husband.

Tonight is our first Mommy and Me Gymnastics class with my cousin and her baby Jillian.

I have a job. A job that I actually enjoy (most days). :)

My family is healthy.

I lost 3 pounds.

We are getting a new stone patio.

I got up this morning, and walked into Jackson's room and was greeted with the biggest and brightest smile in the entire world.

Next week is a four day week and we have an awesome holiday weekend planned with friends and family.

We are able to provide a financially stable life for our babies that fortunately allows us to do fun things like Mommy and Me Gymnastics class.

My baby girl says Please and Thank You.

I am getting back into my Photography hobby.

I ran three times last week.

I am going to kick Postpartum Depressions rear-end.

Emma slept in until 7:15 this morning.

Jackson has gone to bed before 9:00PM the last three nights and has slept until 6:00AM the next day. He actually went to bed at 7:00 on Saturday night and slept until the next morning.

Emma and Jackson are now at home with a Nanny during the day. A Nanny that we love, which allows me to get two hours of my day back that I didn't have when Emma was in daycare (plus it's actually cheaper).

Emma and Jackson haven't been sick for months (knock on wood).

We just got to spend some great time together (although too short) with Emma and Jackson's Gigi and Papa who live on the West Coast, and we got to check out the National Zoo with the E and J's big cousins Kevin, Shane and Aunt Adrienne who we unfortunately don't get to see very often (we miss you guys!!!).

And even though my bedside table has a book about anxiety along with anxiety medication, it also has a pacifier and baby monitor on it that reminds me how truly lucky I am that I am a mom to two amazing babies.  

Take that to the bank and cash it SuperMom.



To My Husband...

     I will never be able to thank you enough for how wonderful you have been through this Postpartum journey that we have been on together. I was having a particularly rough afternoon and popped in a Leona Lewis CD to listen to, which I haven't listened to in a long time. Although, quoting song lyrics seems to be a funny way to express your feelings, when I Will Be came on, it described perfectly how I feel about you and how much you mean to me.

Thank you for being amazing. Thank you for being there for me.
Thank you for understanding. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for your support.

Thank you for letting me have bad days and for not trying to "fix me" all the time,
even though I know inside its killing you that you can't.

Thank you for crying with me.
Thank you for being an amazing Father and for being there for our children when I couldn't.
 
 

I Will Be

by Leona Lewis

There's nothing I could say to you
Nothing I could ever do to make you see
What you mean to me
All the pain, the tears I cried
Still you never said goodbye and now I know
How far you'd go

 I will be all that you want and get myself together
'Cause you keep me from falling apart
All my life, I'll be with you forever
To get you through the day and make everything okay.

I thought that I had everything

I didn't know what life could bring

But now I see, honestly

You're the one thing I got right

The only one I let inside

Now I can breathe 'cause you're here with me.

And if I let you down, I'll turn it all around
'Cause I would never let you go.

I will be all that you want and get myself together
'Cause you keep me from falling apart
All my life, I'll be with you forever
To get you through the day and make everything okay.

Today I Feel Lost

One of the hardest things about Postpartum Depression (PPD) are all of the ups and downs. Everyday is different. Some days, I feel like supermom again and I feel like I beat this thing or that its only a matter of time before I'm back to myself again. Then there are days like today, where I feel like the PPD is getting worse, instead of better.

Today, I feel very lost.

I don't think that I will ever be able to thank everyone enough for all the support, and kindness, and offers to help. It truly means a lot. This may sound terrible, but on the bad days, it's actually overwhelming. It's so hard to explain most of the time because it's so confusing in my own head, that its near impossible to articulate it clearly.

I know I am probably going to scare the daylights out of my Mom with this post (don't worry Mom, I'm not going to jump off a bridge) but it helps a lot to just get it out. This blog is very much like a journal to me, and although sometimes it's hard to talk about my struggle with PPD openly, I just hope that someone reading this who is also struggling with PPD, will know that someone else is out there and that "I get it".

So here goes. Today....

I'm physically exhausted from trying to put on a front. I don't want anyone to know how much I am struggling because I won't look like the perfect mom. At work, I put on my happy face. At home, I put on my happy face. At parties, I put on my happy face. It's exhausting.

I feel very overwhlemed. Not the "Having two kids under two is hard" kind of overwhelemed. More like the "Am I ever not going to feel like a failure as a mother?" kind of overwhelemed.

I feel very guilty, because I feel like I should be handling this better. I'm an organized person. I'm a strong person. I'm an intelligent person. Why can't I just think of what I have to do, come up with a strategy, and do it? I feel like I have no control over anything. I feel guilty because I feel like my babies and my husband deserve better. Wes deserves a better Father's Day than he got.

Luckily, I am feeling more and more bonded to Jackson. He is no longer a stranger in my house. He is my son. The bad part is, now that I feel bonded to him, I am very paranoid that something is going to happen to him.

I don't understand why this is happening. I don't understand why I feel like I am getting worse, instead of better. Why can't I just snap out of this fog?

I constantly feel irritated, and have very little patience.

I feel like I am a weak person. Like all of this came about because I can't handle being a mother of two young children. I feel like a failure.

I can't concentrate, or focus on anything. Some days, making the simplest of decisions is hard.

I feel disconnected, like there is a big wall between me and everyone else.

My thoughts are constantly racing. I feel like I have to be doing something all the time. Cleaning bottles. Cleaning baby clothes. Cleaning the house. Entertaining the baby. Checking on the baby. Brushing the dog. Watering the flowers.

I am worried. All. The. Time.

Jackson is being Baptized on Sunday, and we are combing that with Emma's 2nd Birthday party and everyone assumes that it will be too much to handle. It's actually a relief. I can fully throw myself into party planning mode and I don't have to think about anything else. Could I just order a pizza and call it a day. Sure. But I want that distraction. I need that distraction. The longer I make it last the better. I need something to be excited about. I need some way to show my babies when they are grown and reading about all of this, that I did love them. I loved them so much that it hurt. They are going to be the ones that pull me out of this hole. I know it. I want them to know that even with all of this, they are my top priority. Even though they won't remember anything about Sunday, I will. When they look back at pictures, they will see that even though Mom was going through a rough time, she still loved us.

An Update on PPD

Well, I finally had a few minutes to update the blog with how things are going, but I still don't have updated pictures of the babies because they are still sitting on my camera. But when I do actually get more than 5 minutes to myself to download the pictures, I have a lot to post about like hot summer days spent running through the sprinkler in the backyard and our first trip to the National Zoo. But for now, it will have to wait because we are busy enjoying a great visit this week with Emma and Jackson's Gigi and Papa. Soon, I will have pictures to post about Jackson's Baptism and Emma's 2nd Birthday too!

Overall, things are going well with us. I'm still struggling with the PPD but seem to be managing it a little bit better now. I ended up switching medications recently so the transition was a bit tough but hopefully that will help get me back on track until I can kick this thing. For the most part, my week seems to be normal, at least from the outside. I tend to struggle with concentrating at work and still get a lot of anxiety at night, but most of the time, I'm able to keep it under control. Then there are the days where I can't keep in under control. On those days, something will send me into a downward spiral and about half of the time, I can recognize what it is, try to deal with it and start to bring myself back up from the downhill slope. The other half of the time, I tend to cross a point of no return, where there is nothing to keep me from falling down that slope and it's just an indescribable feeling. I get overwhelmed. I get so overwhelmed where I fall back into the early days of PPD where the smallest tasks are overwhelming, where I am so emotional that I can barely keep myself together, where I don't want to eat, and its all I can do to try to make it through the day. Over the past month or so, I have really been working on identifying what my triggers are that send me into those spirals and because of that and continuing to go to therapy, I can step outside of the situation when I feel it starting to happen, do what I can to reduce the triggers, and move forward. I am also getting better at prevention as well. For example, one of my main triggers is noise and chaos. Two things that are always present with two kids under two and one with colic. Ack. However, we have made some changes at home that have been helping, like making sure the TV is off while eating dinner, keeping the TV at low levels of volume, making sure that our TV isn't on at the same time as Emma watching a movie on her little TV, running the dishwasher in the morning or when we aren't home. Although it doesn't fix everything, it helps me to manage better.

I also just bought When Panic Attacks by David Burns which got great reviews on how to handle and deal with anxiety (med free). Hopefully I will make the time to sit down and read the book!









I still find it very difficult to really explain what it's like, but anyone who I talk to who has had PPD or anxiety completely understands. But if you haven't had it, its incredibly hard to explain. PPD ends up throwing you into this vicious cycle of needing help, but then feeling like you are getting too much help, then you end up being resentful for all the help, then being angry for people feeling like they have to walk on eggshells around you and thinking that you are about to break or that you are fragile, but then more frustration when you realize that you need them to walk on eggshells around you because you are fragile and you might break. It's something that you need help and support to get through, but it's also something that no one can fix for you. There is no magical answer to fix it, and I think that's one thing that Wes is now realizing. You can't just sit down and relax when you are overwhelmed, you can't just "let things go", and there is nothing that he can do to fix me. But as my husband, that's what he wants to do. I never would have expected the little things to mean so much with PPD. There are little things that get me through the day, and there are little things that send me into a complete breakdown. Like the fact that I forgot sunscreen on our trip to the zoo (even though I found it 2 hours later because I spent 30 minutes the night before packing the diaper back because of the anxiety that I might forget something).

The little things mean a lot. If someone brushes off the little things, it hurts.

The medicine and therapy aren't answers. They aren't automatic cures for PPD, but they help you manage it, and get through the day. I remember sitting in my doctor's office when my mom took me to see him for the first time and he diagnosed me with PPD. I was scared to go on medication, but now I'm almost scared to go off of it just because how I felt during the switch. I need it.

I think another hard part about PPD is a lot of times you can seem "normal" on the outside, so your loved ones may think there isn't anything wrong, but inside your mind if whirlwind. Your loved ones don't know whats going on with you, unless you tell them, and that is certainly a lesson that I am still learning myself.

A lot of times, I even know in my brain how irrational I can be, but it's like your body doesn't get the memo. That's where it gets back to the little things. It took me days to try and decide what strollers to take to the zoo, I lost sleep over it, I thought about it at work. Should I take the double stroller so it's easier to push both babies around? If I take the double stroller, there isn't as much sun protection for Jackson. But if I take two strollers, it's going to be more to keep track of. I played it over and over and over in my head for days.

For me, the main things that I am still struggling with is the anxiety and OCD part of PPD, but lately, I started feeling paranoid. Paranoid that someone was going to take Jackson, paranoid that someone was going to break in and hurt my babies. That's one of the reasons for the medication switch.

But, we are going to end this on a positive note because today has been a good PPD day. I have been feeling much more bonded to Jackson lately, and that has really been amazing. There are times where he is crying and upset, and gets passed around the room with everyone trying to comfort him, but when he gets to Mommy, he settles down, lays his head on my shoulder, and falls asleep. He has the biggest, and brightest smile ever, so much so that his entire face lights up when he smiles. His giggle is infectious, and you can't help but get lost in his deep blue eyes. He is my manly.

Oh, and get this. I figured out how much PPD costs a month, at least for me. I finally got back on track with our budget and between therapy co-pays, medication, our new alarm system monitoring fee (thanks to the PPD paranoia) and the amount of wine I need to get through the week, PPD costs $247 a month. If that's not motivation to kick this thing, I don't know what is. :)

DMSA Scan #2 Done!

With a little help from Mickey Mouse and Pink Bear, we successfully made it through Emma's second DMSA scan!

We have had several questions about why we needed this test or if Emma still has VUR so here's the rundown. The DMSA scan doesn't tell us is Emma still has VUR or really have anything to do with the VUR itself. It's simply a nuclear medicine test that provides a detailed picture not only of how the kidneys look, but how they are working. So they look for things like kidney scarring/damage as well as how hard both the kidneys are working. In cases where children have reflux only on one side (like Emma), you would expect that one kidney would be working a little harder than the one on the side with the reflux. They measure that part of the test on a scale of 0 - 100 where you actually want the results to be 50 - 50, meaning each kidney is doing exactly 50% of the work. Any numbers between 40 - 60 are good. During Emma's 1st DMSA scan, she measured at exactly 50 - 50, which the nurse said she hadn't seen in her 15 years of working in pediatric urology. My little overachiever. Ha!

So back to the point...the only test that will tell us if Emma still has VUR, is a VCUG test, which we will have again in a year. During the DMSA scan, they inject Dimercapto Succinic Acid through the IV and it goes directly to the kidneys but only stays radioactive for a few hours up to a day. Then you have to lay perfectly still (ergo the sedation for a toddler) and use a special camera to perform three different scans and hopefully diagnose any problems at their earliest stages. Even though Emma hasn't had any UTIs since her first one (which was before her first scan), that doesn't mean that there couldn't be some impact to her kidneys, so we still had to do the test.


Emma actually did really well that morning despite only being able to have clear liquids until 10:00AM, then nothing after that. I was nervous at first since she woke up asking for lunch, but she was a trooper. We left the house at about 10:30AM and she fell asleep in the car pretty quickly. Usually, Emma's "Pink Bear" doesn't leave her crib, but she has a special connection with Pink Bear, so we brought him along as well since we knew it would be a tough day. Emma has been naming all of her stuffed animals lately so the house is filled with stuffed animals named chocolate, Charlie, etc...but she refuses to give Pink Bear another name. If you ask her what the name of her bear is, she says "Pink Bear". :)

  

Because of all the tests that Emma has been put through at the doctors in her almost two short years (any fever at all means a catheter at the doctors) she has a big fear of anything related to the doctors. She even freaks out when we take Shamus to the vet because she knows its some kind of doctor. So yesterday was tough from start to finish even with the little things like getting blood pressure, or taking her temperature, or getting her weight, etc. But the nurses were amazing and in between "stuff" they let her play (and play with stuff she probably wasn't supposed to haha). So here she is "working", just like Mommy and Daddy. So we at least at some short parts of the day when Emma wasn't in tears. This was one of those times, and during our two short bus rides to go see her Pediatric Urologist.

  

Then came the not-so-fun stuff. Emma is just like Mommy in the sense that she HATES anything on her toes. So it was quite the challenge to put the blood-oxygen monitor on her toe, but that was a piece of cake compared to the IV. In order to the get the IV, they had to strap her down, tape a board to the back of her left hand and then put the IV in. This was one of the hardest two parts of the day. She was screaming. It took about three nurses to handle it, so there was pretty much only room for Mommy to try to calm her down. This is where Pink Bear came into play. Everything that Emma got, Pink Bear got first. It's hard to tell, but Pink Bear has some tape on his toe, just like Emma. He also got some pink tape like Emma, and even got his left paw taped to the little board like Emma did too. That helped a little at first...that's when Mickey came to help.

Emma LOVES Mickey Mouse. She especially loves the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse show on the Disney Channel and she watches it every morning, and pretty much every night before bedtime. On her favorite episode, Mickey and Pete fly up to the clouds to where the giant lives and they need to get Mickey's hot air balloon back. When they get to the giant's house, Pete gets scared, but Mickey helps Pete by telling him how brave he is. So that's what we did.The conversation went a little something like this...

Emma:  ::: screaming for Mommy :::

Mommy: "Emma....listen. Listen to Mommy. Can you hear Mommy?"

Emma:  ::: sniffle sniffle ::: "Yeah....(sniffle)....okay."

Mommy: "Do you remember when Mickey and Pete flew up to the sky to go meet the giant?"

Emma: ::: sniffle sniffle ::: "Yeah....(sniffle)....scared."

Mommy: "That's right, Pete was scared wasn't he? Just like Emma is a little bit scared too right?"

Emma: ::: scream :::: "yeah....lil' bit scared"

Mommy: "But it's okay right, because Emma is brave just like Mickey and Pete!"

Emma: "Mickey, brave. Emma, brave."

Mommy: ::: melts :::

So after that conversation, and a good 10 minutes of her screaming from being strapped down, I was able to pick up my hot, sweaty, tear-filled baby and calm her down in my lap. Just as she got calmed down, the doctor came in to do a small physical to make sure we were okay to use sedation. Poor Emma got so upset again. Then came another doctor to put in the Dimercapto Succinic Acid through the IV which Emma did not appreciated. She got her whole arm wrapped up (she looked like she had a broken hand) and luckily we were off for a little while to go see her pediatric urologist which helped bring my baby back to normal for a bit. We had to take a short shuttle ride but Emma loved every minute of it. Despite being her nap time, with no food or water for hours, she was actually in really good spirits. She also started to talk to Mommy about Mickey and Pete and Emma being brave on the bus too.

During our quick visit with the urologist, we unfortunately found out that next year may be even worse. Emma will go through the same VCUG and DMSA tests, but on the same day, back to back. So instead of it being like a 5 hour day, it will be more like an 8 or 9 hour day. But we are trying not to worry about that until the time comes.  

Soon enough, it was back on the bus headed to finally get to the actual DMSA scan. The scan needs to happen at just about 90 minutes after receiving the acid so after a quick wait in the waiting room, we headed back to start the sedation. Emma got pretty upset again because they tried to take her blood pressure and blood-oxygen levels again. On top of that, they hooked her up and began the sedation. It took about 15 or 20 minutes to really get her "out" and the last 5 were pretty tough because she was fighting in as hard as she could. I was holding her, and it was like holding a 22.4 lb newborn with a giant head that they can't hold up themselves yet. She was squirming and thrashing and hitting all at the same time as her head was flying back and forth. She finally gave in a little and rested on Mommy's shoulder while naming all of Mickey's friends on the nurse's scrubs. Then she was out.

Emma was then strapped into the machine (whatever that monster is called) and her hands were brought up above her head so they wouldn't interfere with the scan. It took another couple of minutes to get her in the right position and then off we were. It seems like a funny time to take pictures, but I almost didn't know what else to do with myself, so it was a good distraction and it was just on my phone. Then they start to run three different tests. One takes about 30 minutes, and the other two take about 10 minutes each. So we then sat in silence for the next hour, watching this machine rotate around our poor baby burrito.

  

Luckily, Emma was just coming out of the sedation pretty much the minute that the test stopped, so that just reassured me that the staff knew what they were doing and gave her the perfect amount of sedation. She was pretty irritable for the first hour or two after sedation which they said would happen but again, it was tough to control a 22 lbs newborn. We strapped her into her stroller and off we were to the car. We got home just about 4:30 and she would kind of come in and go out for the next hour or so, until she was awake enough we could give her some juice and something to eat. That seemed to help a lot and although she still couldn't walk by the time she went to bed at 7:30, she was must more with it, and could at least talk better without slurring her words.

Jackson also did really well yesterday and was awake almost the whole day, so he let us pay attention to Emma and he went to bed early too...so needless to say the bottle of wine was cracked open before I even got back downstairs from putting the monsters to sleep.

Thank You for the Support!

I'm pretty much in a panic this morning just waiting to get this day started just so it will end and my Emma will be back at home snuggled in my arms after her DMSA scan is done. Having said that, I did want to post a little something to say thank you to everyone who has left a comment or emailed about my PPD post. I haven't been able to write everyone back yet but please know how much your notes have meant to me and how they have been able to lift my spirits on those tough days.

I feel like I have been doing a little better lately, maybe it's just the medicine kicking in a little more and I actually think that going back to work has helped me. I am certainly a person who thrives on routine, so even if Jackson still isn't in a routine, at least I'm getting back into one. More to come on this topic later, but for now, I can't do much more then worry about Emma's test this afternoon. She woke up asking for lunch today but she can't have anything but clear liquids up until 10:00AM, then it's nothing until after the scan is over and she is coming out of sedation. I'm so nervous about today and if I am going to be able to see her and comfort her while she is screaming from getting the IV. Then we have to hang out for 90 minutes until the test actually starts and she is sedated. So she won't even get to eat until probably 4:00PM today.

Here she was a year ago during the DMSA scan...

I just want today to be over with.

My Struggle with Postpartum Depression

This is certainly not a post that I was expecting to write when I starting thinking about this blog two years ago, and it's a post that I have even struggled with writing over the past few weeks. I had a hard time deciding whether or not it was something I wanted to make 'public', or keep to myself and my immediate family. I decided though to talk about my struggle with Postpartum Depression (PPD) because over the past few weeks, I have felt very alone in a lot of ways, and just in case someone else who reads my blog is going through, or has gone through the same thing, they now know there is someone else out there to talk to. For a long time, I didn't know who to talk to about it, and I didn't, and I know now that was a mistake.

Although I decided to share my struggle with PPD, there are a few details and parts to the story that I am choosing to keep to myself. Maybe I will share those things one day, but I'm not quite ready to share everything yet.

The first two weeks after Jackson was born almost felt "easier" then with Emma. Mostly because my recovery seemed to be faster but there just seemed to be something lingering over my head that I couldn't quite figure out. At this point though, it's a blur, and I don't even feel like I remember much about those first two weeks. I was just trying to keep my head above water with two kids under the age of two. Looking back, there were certainly signs of the PPD setting in already, but in the moment, it was far from my mind and I assumed that a lot of what I was feeling was natural for having two young kids. I remember talking to Wes and my mom about how I felt like I was 'nesting' more after Jackson was born then before. I couldn't get the house clean enough. I felt like I cleaned every day, all day, in addition to trying to keep Jackson happy, and struggling to keep up with him breast feeding. Despite cleaning almost constantly, the house was a wreck, or at least in my mind it was.

I started to have a lot of anxiety about the house. It was the only thing that I could control at the time, and it felt like I didn't even have control over that. Opening up my linen closet or hallway closet or dresser drawers would give me serious anxiety. My heart would race, my skin would crawl and I would panic. It was like I didn't know where to go, I didn't know where to start. Every task seemed too big to handle. That's when things started going downhill. I became an emotional wreck. This was just about two weeks after Jackson was born.

Everyone kept telling me to sleep. Sleep whenever Jackson slept. I couldn't. The thought of taking that much time out of the day that I could be up doing something, cleaning, organizing, something....made me panic. The minute Jackson would sleep, I would go into a frenzy. I was exhausted, completely exhausted, but it was physically impossible for me to sleep. Yet at the same time, I felt hopeless that I would never catch up to my own expectations. Which turned into guilt, feelings of being overwhelmed, an inability to make simple decisions, irritability, frustration, anger, feelings of inadequacy as a mother, and even more anxiety.

At the same time, Jackson was (thankfully) thriving and eating what seemed to be non-stop. I couldn't produce enough milk through breastfeeding and despite the pediatricians reassurance that I was doing great, I certainly didn't feel like it. Breastfeeding was incredibly painful and I just didn't feel like my body was made for it. I had a lot of the same issues that I had with Emma, but she wasn't nearly as much of an eater so it was easier. I started to pump exclusively because of how much pain I was in. When I started to absolutely dread, and cringe every time I knew it was time for Jackson to eat, I knew I had to start pumping. But because of how much he was eating, and how long it was taking to pump, I was miserable. I could barely get through the day, let alone build up any kind of stash to give myself a break once and a while. So, I broke down and started to give him formula already, which made me feel like a big failure.

My third week at home with Jackson continued to get worse but I continued to keep my mouth shut about a lot of things. I just thought that it would get better. If I could just hold on through the first couple of weeks, it would get better. I thought that it was just because I was so tired. I thought, if I could only get my linen closet organized I would be all better. The late night feedings were tough, but I was getting through them. At least until that Tuesday night. It was 4:00AM and I was up feeding Jackson, just as I had done two hours before that and after 4 ounces of his bottle, he just wouldn't burp. That was the trigger. After 30 minutes of trying every possible position with my sleeping infant that just wouldn't burp, a horrifying thought came into my head, and that's where I will leave part of the story to myself, the part that I'm not quite ready to fully share. I couldn't believe what just came into my head, and what I felt like I could easily do. I began to sob. I put Jackson back in his crib, went back to bed, and quietly cried myself to sleep. I didn't tell anyone what happened, at least not yet.

The next two days were a blur. An attempt at me trying to keep up with life, but failing. I started to feel like I was starring at this infant like he was a stranger. Like I didn't know where he came from because if he had come from me, I would feel different. I think that is when my mom starting coming up more often to help with things like organizing the linen closet, tackling the loads of laundry etc. But it wasn't helping me as much emotionally as I was expecting it to, or maybe, hoping that it would. That Friday it all came out. It was three weeks to the day that we went into the hospital to start the induction.

I broke down that morning and probably scared my mom half to death. I told her about the thoughts that went through my head. I told her about the load of clean laundry of Jackson's clothes that had been sitting in a laundry basket for two days because although it was causing me complete anxiety to look at it, it was too big of a task to handle. There were too many, little tiny clothes. I had no problems folding our laundry, or Emma's laundry, but I couldn't face all of those newborn clothes. This was also about the time that Emma started acting out more. It really wasn't all that bad, she was just being a toddler, but to me, it was too much to handle. I felt like I was constantly yelling at her. I needed a break. My mom convinced me to call my doctor and that afternoon I found myself an emotional mess in the middle of his office. I was scared to admit everything, but with my mom there, I knew I could and I knew I wouldn't get any help if I didn't. Jackson was with us too, and it was like he knew that Mommy needed some time to talk to the doctor because he slept through the entire appointment. By the end of the discussion with my doctor, I had a prescription for an antidepressant and an appointment for therapy the next week.

That weekend was probably the toughest weekend of my life. It was like I couldn't face being at home. I needed to get out. I needed to get out of my head. I needed to get out of my house. I spent the entire weekend with Jackson at my parent's house. We picked up Emma and spent the day with both her and Jackson that Saturday, and then Wes came down to have dinner with us and then take Emma home to sleep in bed. During the days I felt okay, but like I was just passing through life, but not really involved. I was going through the motions of changing diapers, feeding bottles, but mentally I was somewhere else, doing whatever I could to not think about things. That night I had a major breakdown. Emma started acting up. She was hitting. She was screaming. I couldn't wait for her to go to bed. I couldn't wait for her to leave. I couldn't get Wes and Emma out of the house fast enough. I freaked. With both Wes and I in tears, he took Emma home and before they even could walk to the car, the guilt set in. Why in the world wouldn't I want to be around my Emma? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I handle things like before? Why did I just want to be alone, when I felt so alone at the same time? Why didn't I want to be at home? When was I going to be able to go home? When would I feel normal again? Why couldn't I be the mom that I wanted to be? What kind of mom wants to be away from her kids so bad? Why was I failing at life?

Not 5 minutes after Wes and Emma left, Jackson started screaming. I couldn't get him to stop. He ate. He burped. We rocked. We walked. We changed diapers. You name it. He just wouldn't stop screaming. This was the first night that he really started with colic. On top of how I was already feeling, it was too much. I finally, after what seemed like an eternity, got him to sleep and I just broke in half. I handed Jackson off to my dad, and just cried in my mom's arms. I stayed at my parent's house with Jackson until Sunday afternoon and headed back home. Since then it's been a struggle. There have been good days, there have been bad days, there have been good days with bad parts, or even good days with horrible parts, but we are still here. Emma is as crazy as ever, Jackson is getting chunkier by the day, Wes is starting to understand more and more about what is going on and I am making it through each day, one day at a time. This is something that we will get through, even though there are nights where I curl up in a ball in my bed, with my pillow over my head trying not to hear the sound of Jackson screaming. We will get through this and I will become the mom that I want to be again.

Therapy has been helping a lot though. I am able now to identify a lot of my triggers and I am finding ways to deal with my anxiety. Its also been a process of giving my permission that it's okay to not be perfect. It's okay that I don't have that instant connection with Jackson because I now know why. We spent weeks worrying about him and thinking the worst when I was pregnant because of him measuring so small, and the cysts in his brain. I spent 9 months almost preparing for the worst and building a wall so that if something did happen, I wasn't attached. Day by day though, we are building that bond, and I know feel okay knowing that it will take some time. I had 9 months to bond with Emma before she was born, and I felt like I didn't have that with Jackson. But there is no rush...he isn't going anywhere.