The Big "D"

I've battled depression my whole life, so when we began planning for a family, I knew that I was a prime candidate for postpartum.  Maybe that's why I never wanted kids (or thought I never wanted kids).  Maybe there was a subconscious knowledge within myself that having a baby would be very, VERY difficult, challenging and potentially damaging for me and my offspring.  Maybe my own nature was encouraging me to tie my tubes and just adopt a whole crap load of animals instead.  I have thought a lot about all of this since becoming pregnant and especially since Peanut arrived on the scene.  The thing is, she is here now; there is no going back. ("You can't take it back; it's already out there.")

Before I got pregnant, I talked with my psychiatrist at the time about getting ready to have a family.  He knew about my battles with depression and acknowledged that we'd have to keep a close eye on my postpartum health, yet he never actually spoke with me about what specifically I might face with postpartum.  I have blamed myself for not doing more research about postpartum before I got pregnant.  I guess I just assumed PPD would just be a severe case of the blues for a more extended period of time than I had experienced previously.

Little did I know what actually awaited me.  I spent several of Peanut's first months wishing she weren't here.  And then feeling gut-wrenchingly guilty for feeling that way.  That's the thing about PPD - there is a lot of guilt that comes along with the feelings that keeps the vicious cycle churning.  In those first few months, I wanted so badly to escape my situation, to not be a mom, to somehow go back in time and make a different decision.  I felt completely helpless and, despite my team of friends and family around me, completely alone.  My fight or flight instinct was screaming, "FLIGHT!  FLIGHT!  Cut and run!"  I truly believed I had made the wrong decision.  It felt like I was not only doomed to a life of unhappiness, but also I was now dragging my spouse and a whole new human being into the mess.

In the early stages of parenthood, your internal resources are just too tapped to deal with these feelings in any rational way.  THERE IS A REASON THAT SLEEP DEPRIVATION IS USED AS A TORTURE TECHNIQUE.  Dealing with the combo of sleep deprivation and surging hormones all while trying to take care of a baby (and yourself), would challenge even the sturdiest of folk.  I felt like I had agreed to try out a new job that I ended up hating only to find myself stuck in that job forever and unable to resign.  Well, I could have resigned, I suppose, and trust me I did think about it... but I just couldn't bring myself to bail.  This was the first and most visceral lesson I learned about parenting:  I am not first.

The first 35 years of my life were all about me.  Now, even when things get ugly and uncomfortable, I am unable to run away because I have someone else to think about.  I am now making all my decisions for her.  After 35 years, this is a very difficult transition to make.  I'm not sure that I'll ever get used to being a "Mom", but I believe I'm on the road to finding peace with my position.

Here's the After School Special portion of this post:  If you or someone you know has a history of depression and is thinking about conceiving or is currently on the nest, PLEASE take some time to research the symptoms of postpartum and make a list of resources for help (here is an excellent start: http://www.postpartumprogress.com/).  The best thing I ever did for myself and my family was to go get help.  You've heard it before, but you'll need to repeat it to yourself OFTEN:  There's no shame in asking for help.  And also, THIS TOO SHALL PASS.  It might take a while, but I'm living proof that it does get better.

Research, My Censor, and Me

I keep losing sleep because I'm writing and rewriting posts in my head when I should be sleeping.  I need to train myself to just get up and WRITE them already instead of trying to quiet my brain by ignoring the thoughts and beating myself up about not sleeping when I should be (self-defeatist, but I'm so GOOD at that!).


I've recently hit a road block of sorts (in case you hadn't noticed the lack of posting recently).  It's not just because I'm a busy mom, it's because I started doing research and ran smack dab into my Censor.  The Censor, for those of you unfamiliar with The Artist's Way, is that little (or in my case, BOOMING) voice in your head that sometimes (or in my case, CONSTANTLY) tells you that you suck, that you're not good enough or smart enough or pretty enough or ENOUGH enough.  The Censor is a big bully that convinces you that you have nothing of value to share with others and you should therefore just shut up, stop typing, put away your paints, burn your headshots, etc.

I've been doing research partly for personal support in dealing with my postpartum, and also see if anyone out there on the interwebs or good old-fashioned printing press has really discussed some of the issues relating to motherhood, depression and postpartum, and identity that I have been struggling with.  I've come across some really great blogs (my favorite right now:  TheBloggess.com), and have a stack of books (Anne Lamott's "Operating Instructions" for one) I'm slowly working through with the 15 minutes I'm able to stay awake and read at the end of the night.

Yesterday, I also came across a few articles specifically about "Mommy Bloggers", including some do's and don'ts (i.e. don't overshare).  The specifics aren't really important at this point, but it got me thinking... doing too much thinking, in fact, and it brought my Censor roaring back into play.  I couldn't even motivate myself to write an unpublished blow-off post.  I've come to hefty blows with my Censor in the past (there will likely be more on this in subsequent posts), and I'm not anxious to step into the ring again, but I have no choice.  There is no other way to get rid of the Censor.  You must fight or flee, and I have too much I need to get off my chest to run away right now.

Some who read these posts may think I am oversharing, but the only thing I'm really worried about with that is what Maggie will think when she reads all this one day.  So I am writing as honestly and openly as I can, but there will still be thoughts, feelings and observations that I keep to myself.  Ultimately, I need to protect my daughter and my family, and though I believe in the long run this blog will be good for all of us, I'm not doing this to air all my dirty laundry or to purposely shock or surprise anyone.

There will always be others out there doing the same thing I am - blogging about challenges with mommyhood (and life in general) - and being more informative, funnier, and more clever than I (again:  TheBloggess.com).  I can't focus on that.  I'm not writing this blog for them.  As my therapist constantly reminds me, "What you think of me is none of my business".  I'm not really writing this blog for anyone but myself right now.  Selfish?  Perhaps.  Cathartic?  Definitely, and I'm in a great deal of catharsis after the past year and a half.  If anyone else happens to find the contents of this blog to be helpful, enlightening, inspiring, whatever, that is just icing on the cake (although the icing is usually my favorite part, so perhaps that analogy isn't appropriate in this context, but you get what I mean, yeah?).

Where to begin? Statement of goals.

I seriously need to stop thinking about this and just write it, because with the way my memory works (or doesn't, these days), I'm going to forget everything before I can get it all down. I use the word "forget" quite loosely, as there are many things about my experience of becoming a mom I will never be able to forget. Sure, many details are already gone or slipping away, but the memory of the pain, anguish, heartbreak, devastation, hopelessness (need I go on?), will remain for years to come, I believe - reverberating like aftershocks from an earthquake.

Actually, the recent earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan is a good example of what my internal world felt like for the first several months after Maggie was born. I know this may seem overly dramatic to many, but my goal in blogging my experiences is to be as completely honest as I can be. I have yet to encounter (and to be fair, I'm still just starting my research) anyone who has expressed as brutal an experience as I have had. I am here to share the dark and debilitating world that I am only recently emerging from. I don't believe there will be a lot of humor to be found, so perhaps it will seem like an exaggeration or over-dramatization. I hope to find the balance between the truth and emotion and to bring clarity to my experience for myself and hopefully for other women who feel similarly.

Slippery slope...

At the encouragement of my therapist, Maggie is currently watching her first TV program. Something called "Word World" on PBS. She's exhausted and still wouldn't nap (shocker) this afternoon. She's been crabby all day, too. In order to give myself a break, I've put the TV on and stood her at her play table. She is really digging it. She's mesmerized by the telly, but is still breaking focus to look at me, look around the room, and play with her table.

I, however, still feel like I'm cheating. Like I'm being a lazy slacker mom and any day now everyone will find out. I'll be exposed for the layabout Facebook addict that I am. I also feel like I can see Maggie's brain melting with each second her eyes are glued to the tube.  It wigs me out completely, but as usual, I'm sure it's more about MY issues than about Maggie at all.

Motivation

I don't know why, even when inspiration strikes, I have such a hard time sitting down and writing when I have a minute. It's partly because the distraction of TV and internet makes it all too easy to goof off. Okay, that's probably most of it. That's also probably what has killed my focus and creativity.

I really WANT to create something. I want to write and draw and paint and sculpt, but my laziness and censor keep getting in the way.