Noah was born December 26, 2011. What should have been an exciting, joyous time was overcast by a little cloud of anxiety and fear. Fear of going into my 3rd C-section. All went smoothly, without complications. Thanks God for answering that prayer! Later that evening I could not get to sleep... I just kept replaying surgery over and over in my head. I was extremely anxious. I was anxious enough that the nurse noticed and suggested that I begin Zoloft the next day. Yes, I was going to talk to the nurse or doctor about my friend, Zoloft.
In case you didn't know, Zoloft used to be my best friend. We go back to when Luke was born. Well, about 8 months after he was born. I experienced Postpartum depression and that is when the love hate relationship began with Zoloft. I decided in 2000 I would remain on the drug throughout my childbearing years. Over the past 4 years I had tried to wean off of it but kept going back to it.
So, when the nurse suggested I start Zoloft the day after Noah was born, I was comforted that I would be reunited with my old, trusty friend. That was the beginning of the end of my relationship with Zoloft. About 2 days after coming home, I began noticing heart palpitations. At one point it was so bad I was coughing and taking gasping, deep breaths. I was freaked out. My mom died at the age of 46 of a heart attack. Anything that messes with my heart sets me on edge! I suspected my friend was to blame. I felt betrayed. I read the side effects list and all of the possible but rare side effects. I had almost all of them plus the ones that read, "call your doctor immediately if...." ZOLOFT, how could you???" After all these years... It is over.
I felt great once it was out of my system. Maybe I didn't need anything. Maybe I was going to be great. Then, little by little, so subtly, weeping crept in. Irritability crept in. Then shortness with everyone and feeling overwhelmed by simple tasks. Do I dare say it? Suicidal thoughts. I have absolutely no desire to end my life but the thoughts randomly pop into my head, "my husband would be better without me." "My kids deserve a mom who loves them and cares for them better than what I can." I loved how a friend stated it. They are escape thoughts.
It is like a dark cloud resides over me. I can't really describe what this kind of suffering is like. Yes, I use the word suffering. When someone asks, "How are you?" it makes me kind of cringe. Do they really want to know what is going on??? I can walk into a room, see clutter and it makes me irrationally cry. I have cussed more in the past 2 months than in my entire life. Just the simple tasks of folding laundry or cleaning up the kitchen seems almost impossible. Overwhelmed and agitated are the two words I would use to describe me. Just the voices of the kids or even hubby can send me over the edge. The sound of "Mom!" being yelled or the kids just picking at each other. The dog begging for his food or water... oh boy, that one... Isolated, lonely. A homework assignment that needs help, at supper prep time, baby starts crying... let's just say, Mommy has more than one meltdown over the past two months. Then, the guilt sets in. What kind of example am I setting for my children? Really? I need to feel guilty on top of all of this. Yes, there is this thing called Mommy Guilt and let me tell you, it is amplified when you are hitting rock bottom. It feels like I have lost the ability to respond appropriately to anything. It feels like I have no control over my emotions. There are so many emotions and feelings going at once that it cannot be conveyed into words. Simple, everyday life seems so daunting and overwhelming on most days.
It's not about my spirits being lifted. When I was much younger and went through this with Luke, someone suggested I was under attack by the enemy. Don't get me wrong, I am a strong believer in the Lord and have been on the frontlines of spiritual warfare. However, there are times, things just go crazy in our bodies. Now is one of those times. I have clung to Jesus so much over the past months I think my knuckles are scabby from clinging so tightly. When I was younger I believed it was all because I was not a strong enough Christian.
Just to feel normal. Enough to function properly. That's my desire. The term "happy pills" was used recently. Really? Happy? I don't care about being happy. I want to just feel normal. I have been following http://www.facebook.com/PostpartumProgress and have been encouraged by knowing that what I have been feeling and experiencing is very real. There are some very helpful tools and resources on the site. It also explains why it is so hard, so hard to make the first call for help.
I made the call. I made the call yesterday and took the first step. I saw my ob/gyn doctor today. I will be starting Lexapro and he also suggested counseling. I was relieved to hear him say that a pill (by itself) most likely won't fix it! In my previous dealings of depression, the doctors were quick to push the pills but not offer help or even chat there may be other things involved. He ordered a blood draw to check thyroid and my iron levels. I was so excited... hope... hope that I might be feeling better in the near future.
I decided to wait until evening to go pick up the medication. So, I found a small window to run to the drug store. Apparently, my busy Dr. forgot to call it in. Really??? REALLY??? I found myself standing at the drugstore weeping. I left thinking, maybe he misunderstood and called it into the neighboring drug store. I drive over and waited in line. I was just short of emotionally losing it when the tech said "no." I, thankfully, made it to the van BEFORE I broke down. I came home crying. Once I calmed down I was able to rationalize that I can just call the doctor office tomorrow.
I am hoping that Lexapro would like to be friends.
