1. Facebook. Within a few hours of posting about my misery, and my friends - old and new, near and far - rush to offer me support, guidance, and love. They uplift me with their courage and faith in my ability to overcome adversity. They tell me stories about what worked for them when pregnancy got rough. They follow up one and even two days later! One friend leaves the conversation altogether because she hasn't the strength or faith to give support right now. And, that's okay. Another friend calls me on the phone (!) and we talk about "stuff." I feel almost human again.
2. My cell phone. Calls and texts to mothers and mentors ground me back in the present reality and let me know I will not be alone through this. Together we are formulating a plan. It will be up to me to implement it. Today, I'm confident I can. I won't yet worry about tomorrow.
3. My husband. Making jokes, tickling me, and telling me ridiculous stories about random people he meets, he attempts to usher me back into our family life, our daily routine, and the love we share. He takes her majesty out and about so I can rest. He listens when I tell him I am so exhausted I cannot go on, and he takes action. Shortly thereafter, he passes out on the sofa at 8 o'clock.
4. My daughter. Her presence; her laughter; her hugs and kisses; the tender way she says, "Mommy;" all of her mannerisms, creativity, and, yes, even her tantrums, ground me back to reality. She (literally) wakes me to the present moment several times a day.
5. My brain. The new med schedule and slightly increased dose has evened out the ups and downs. Even one week makes a huge difference. The research I've done using a lactation app has given me new insight into and comfort for the effects my medications will have on my baby. Signing up for a Mental Health During and After Pregnancy class in a few weeks will help give me further guidance, resources, and strategies to cope with and make our first weeks together memorable and loving.
Today is a good day.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Some other beginning's end, or 12 Steps
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." - Semisonic - Closing Time Lyrics | MetroLyrics
If you've known me long, you know I went through and through the twelve steps. If you've never done them or are not familiar with them, the 12 Steps were initially created as part of Alcoholics Anonymous and have been used by support groups worldwide to overcome a wide variety of addictions like gambling, sex, and narcotics, in addition to alcohol.
Everything I needed to know, I learned in 12 Step recovery.
1. I am powerless over my disease (Bipolar Disorder II).
2. I believe a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity.
3. I made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of god as I understand her.
4. I have made (numerous attempts at) a fearless and searching moral inventory of myself.
5. I have admitted to myself, to god, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.
6. I am entirely ready for god to remove all these defects of character.
7. I humbly ask her every day to remove my shortcomings.
8. I have a list of all the people I have harmed and am willing to make amends to them.
9. I have made direct amends to these people except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. I continue to take personal inventory, and, when I am wrong, I promptly admit it.
11. I seek through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with God as I understand her praying only for the knowledge of her will for me and the power to carry it out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, I try to carry this message to others and to practice these principles in all my affairs.
I'm not sure where I'm headed from here, but I once again stand on the precipice of a new beginning. Maya's birth was my rebirth. I'm starting to realize that I may be more like a phoenix who rises from ashes than a cat who always lands on her feet.
I can sense that the beginning that started with Maya is coming to its conclusion. The end of what's become "daily life." My faith is being put to the test. My faith in myself, in our family, in god as I understand her.
Lila will give us all a new beginning.
Today, I'm starting to look forward to that and trying to let go of my fear and trepidation.
If you've known me long, you know I went through and through the twelve steps. If you've never done them or are not familiar with them, the 12 Steps were initially created as part of Alcoholics Anonymous and have been used by support groups worldwide to overcome a wide variety of addictions like gambling, sex, and narcotics, in addition to alcohol.
Everything I needed to know, I learned in 12 Step recovery.
1. I am powerless over my disease (Bipolar Disorder II).
2. I believe a power greater than myself can restore me to sanity.
3. I made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of god as I understand her.
4. I have made (numerous attempts at) a fearless and searching moral inventory of myself.
5. I have admitted to myself, to god, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.
6. I am entirely ready for god to remove all these defects of character.
7. I humbly ask her every day to remove my shortcomings.
8. I have a list of all the people I have harmed and am willing to make amends to them.
9. I have made direct amends to these people except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. I continue to take personal inventory, and, when I am wrong, I promptly admit it.
11. I seek through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with God as I understand her praying only for the knowledge of her will for me and the power to carry it out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, I try to carry this message to others and to practice these principles in all my affairs.
I'm not sure where I'm headed from here, but I once again stand on the precipice of a new beginning. Maya's birth was my rebirth. I'm starting to realize that I may be more like a phoenix who rises from ashes than a cat who always lands on her feet.
I can sense that the beginning that started with Maya is coming to its conclusion. The end of what's become "daily life." My faith is being put to the test. My faith in myself, in our family, in god as I understand her.
Lila will give us all a new beginning.
Today, I'm starting to look forward to that and trying to let go of my fear and trepidation.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Pinterest Saved My Life
Something I need to tell you. I am depressed. I am pregnant. I am depressed because I am pregnant.
By depressed, I don't mean I feel sad a little bit because I'm uncomfortable in my own skin and have to pee every five minutes or because my life is changing every day and I can't go back and change my decision now.
By depressed, I mean I talk to myself out loud about everything that's bothering me, then I realize my daughter can hear me; I try to comfort her and assure her mommy's not mad at her; she ends up comforting me to the best of her ability, and I just sit in a chair sobbing into her long hair.
My husband comes home and says, "Maya, let's go get Starbucks!" but she's so cozy with me and uncomprehending of the agony I'm feeling that she won't leave. So, I pry her off, go hide in the bathroom, and sob into a dirty towel I've been meaning to clean for days, but I haven't. And, I don't care.
Only, I do.
I try to tell myself I don't care. I blame other people for my hurts. I think this will make me feel better.
It doesn't because I also know it's a lie.
I sleep, but can't sleep well. I dream terrible dreams. I dream of losing my baby, of having her stolen from me, of losing my family, of moving away or being sent away.
By depressed, I mean I stayed home and allowed him to take her out to get junk food while I attempted to sleep. But I couldn't. So, I drank a glass of red wine. I curled up in a cozy blanket. I closed my eyes. I counted to 100 and back.
I felt guilty for drinking that glass of wine.
I thought, 'I am a bad mother.'
I thought, 'I am not fit to carry a child inside me.'
I felt angry at my husband for insisting that a biological child was the only way I'd get my dream of growing our family even though I have been steadfast in my desire to adopt.
I feel angry that the meds aren't working as well as they would if I weren't hormonal. I feel resentful that my doctor wants me to increase the meds because I already feel guilty using them while I'm pregnant.
By depressed, I mean that within one hour of trying to find a comfortable spot to lie in and trying to count as high as I could to numb out my mind, I finally started thinking about putting a gun to my head or a knife in my arm. Anything to bring release.
According to my pregnancy journal, my fetus would survive okay without me at this point. Medicine and machinery could take care of her. But, what about my husband? What about my daughter? What about my babies growing up without their mother?
As flawed as I am, wouldn't it be better for them to have their mother? I have good times. I have healthy times. I just have to get through this.
I decided to read articles on pregnancy and depression. Oh, joy, I'm the one in ten again. Oh, and it's a sure shot I'll have PPD again.
So, I tore through my drawers and unearthed some old t-shirts. I found my sharpest pair of scissors, put on some tunes, and surfed Pinterest for t-shirt projects.
I made three balls of t-shirt yarn, four t-shirt sleeve burp clothes for baby, and two braided belts Maya can use as a headband or tie around her precious, little waist.
When hubby and princess came back, I went with them to Pinballz and played Skee Ball. I let Maya eat candy. Then, we went to the bookstore. James offered to get what I needed at the grocery store so I could come home and pee (for the millionth time today). We ate dinner and watched Snow White and the Seven Dwarves while I cut up more t-shirts and searched for more projects I could do with them.
I decided to live another day. Sometimes, that's the best I can do.
By depressed, I don't mean I feel sad a little bit because I'm uncomfortable in my own skin and have to pee every five minutes or because my life is changing every day and I can't go back and change my decision now.
By depressed, I mean I talk to myself out loud about everything that's bothering me, then I realize my daughter can hear me; I try to comfort her and assure her mommy's not mad at her; she ends up comforting me to the best of her ability, and I just sit in a chair sobbing into her long hair.
My husband comes home and says, "Maya, let's go get Starbucks!" but she's so cozy with me and uncomprehending of the agony I'm feeling that she won't leave. So, I pry her off, go hide in the bathroom, and sob into a dirty towel I've been meaning to clean for days, but I haven't. And, I don't care.
Only, I do.
I try to tell myself I don't care. I blame other people for my hurts. I think this will make me feel better.
It doesn't because I also know it's a lie.
I sleep, but can't sleep well. I dream terrible dreams. I dream of losing my baby, of having her stolen from me, of losing my family, of moving away or being sent away.
By depressed, I mean I stayed home and allowed him to take her out to get junk food while I attempted to sleep. But I couldn't. So, I drank a glass of red wine. I curled up in a cozy blanket. I closed my eyes. I counted to 100 and back.
I felt guilty for drinking that glass of wine.
I thought, 'I am a bad mother.'
I thought, 'I am not fit to carry a child inside me.'
I felt angry at my husband for insisting that a biological child was the only way I'd get my dream of growing our family even though I have been steadfast in my desire to adopt.
I feel angry that the meds aren't working as well as they would if I weren't hormonal. I feel resentful that my doctor wants me to increase the meds because I already feel guilty using them while I'm pregnant.
By depressed, I mean that within one hour of trying to find a comfortable spot to lie in and trying to count as high as I could to numb out my mind, I finally started thinking about putting a gun to my head or a knife in my arm. Anything to bring release.
According to my pregnancy journal, my fetus would survive okay without me at this point. Medicine and machinery could take care of her. But, what about my husband? What about my daughter? What about my babies growing up without their mother?
As flawed as I am, wouldn't it be better for them to have their mother? I have good times. I have healthy times. I just have to get through this.
I decided to read articles on pregnancy and depression. Oh, joy, I'm the one in ten again. Oh, and it's a sure shot I'll have PPD again.
So, I tore through my drawers and unearthed some old t-shirts. I found my sharpest pair of scissors, put on some tunes, and surfed Pinterest for t-shirt projects.
I made three balls of t-shirt yarn, four t-shirt sleeve burp clothes for baby, and two braided belts Maya can use as a headband or tie around her precious, little waist.
When hubby and princess came back, I went with them to Pinballz and played Skee Ball. I let Maya eat candy. Then, we went to the bookstore. James offered to get what I needed at the grocery store so I could come home and pee (for the millionth time today). We ate dinner and watched Snow White and the Seven Dwarves while I cut up more t-shirts and searched for more projects I could do with them.
I decided to live another day. Sometimes, that's the best I can do.
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