Good Days

I have good moments, which have slowly progressed into good days.  I know the mornings are the toughest.  I never know what feelings, thoughts or emotions will be there when I open my eyes (not to mention the nausea and morning sickness that make me feel even worse!)  The evenings can also get iffy, depending on what we are doing or what lies ahead the next day.  But between the two, I can often have very good days.  I take care of Carter, hang out with my Mom, find projects to keep me busy whether at home, Mom's house or the church.  I have learned that keeping my mind and hands busy is one of the best ways to avoid the anxiety.  The only thing I can't and won't think about is going back to work.  And I have yet to trust myself alone yet, since my greatest fear remains having an attack or an episode when I am by myself with Carter.

I still feel very numb, even on my best day.  I'm very much going through the motions of what is typically normal and pleasant for me. To be honest, I don't look forward to very much, which stinks.  Everything in me just wants to lay in bed and not think about anything, but I know how bad that is for me and how it would send me in the other direction.

Even as I type this, I feel empty.  Like, I'm just a shell of myself.  I feel like I've gotten my emotions nearly completely under control, but I've been working so hard to make that happen that I've become drained, exhausted and numb in the process.  I am praying every minute of every day that my REAL joy will return.  I can feel happy or even laugh when Carter does something funny or when someone says something funny to me, but it's not the same as it used to be.  I want my joy back more than I have ever wanted anything for myself.  I feel like I'm wandering, picking up pieces of me along the way...but very, very slowly.  I know these things I am praying for will not happen overnight, but I do pray that every day God will show me that He is still working on me and that He will give me glimpses of progress so that I do not lose hope.

Good Mom

When I first started my other blog for my family, I had just given birth to Carter.  While it was a VERY happy time in my life, I was hit with a very unexpected wallop of crazy hormones that resulted in Baby Blues/Postpartum/whatever you want to call it.  I wrote about it for my blog at the time, but never posted it because I didn't think it fit the purpose of my blog.  It was also not something I wanted to remember.  I went back and found that post the other day:

The Unexpected  (May 6, 2010)

There is a part of my "baby experience" that I haven't shared with too many people. I honestly never thought I would, but I want to write about it for a few reasons. First, I always do better at communicating my thoughts in writing...I've learned through this blog that it's good for me. Second, I've always believed that God brings people through trials (and tribulations) so we can help someone else down the road. And third, I want to remember what God has brought me through.

When I was pregnant, I heard a lot of women talk about the postpartum part of having a baby. I heard people mention postpartum depression, incessant crying, uncontrollable mood swings, etc. But I literally tuned all of that out. I told myself that it would never happen to me because I would be able to control my emotions no matter what. Ha. :) I also thought about how excited I would be to take Carter places, especially to church. I just knew I would be chomping at the bit to take him as soon as possible. So I did not expect what actually happened after Carter was born.

When we came home from the hospital, I was on some good pain medicine. :) Among other side effects, it almost made me feel like I was in a state of euphoria. I was deliriously happy and content. Well, eventually I came off that medicine and my new reality hit. I started feeling very sad and I couldn't explain why...I had everything. What was I feeling sad about? I would burst into tears about silly things...like, thinking about Carter getting bigger and growing up or about something happening to him. The thoughts would consume me at times and it became very hard to think positively.

But more than the sadness, I was afraid. I had very strong, very real fears about taking Carter into public or even just being in a social setting (like, someone coming over to visit.) I started to have panic attacks and it was very hard for me to be around other people, outside of my family. But it was almost a Catch 22. I had a hard time being around people, but yet when I was alone, the sadness got worse and deeper. While Dave was at work, my mom, dad and sister would sometimes rotate coming to be with me. The thought of taking Carter anywhere...Target, the grocery store, church...terrified me. I would envision people swarming around us and I even had nightmares of people taking him from me.

I started realizing something more than just "hormones" was going on, but I didn't want to say anything to anyone. I felt like it made me a bad mom to have these feelings and that it would all just go away in time. I didn't even tell Dave. It wasn't until my mom found me sobbing one day that I let it all come out. She convinced me to go see the doctor, and I am so glad I did.

That's all I wrote for some reason.  I remember writing it after I had been prescribed some anxiety/depression medication that eventually helped stablize me and get me back on my feet.  It was a scary, unexpected season in my life that thankfully, God has let me use several times to help some other new moms who had the same thoughts/worries/fear but had no idea what they were.  That is what gives me hope that He will let me use THIS season, which is harder and even darker than the other, to help others.

All I remember at the time, which is similar to what I feel now, is wondering if I was ever going to climb out of it.  Was I going to be like this forever?  Was my baby going to grow up with a mom who couldn't do anything for herself and who cried ALL the time?  Was I ever going to feel like a REAL mom?  I find it interesting that my fears then were all about Carter, whereas now, my fears are mostly about me, but with a lot of the same underlying thoughts.  This sickness keeps telling me that I'm a bad mom, that if I can't even handle my current life with one, how on earth am I going to handle life with two?  What if this happens again when I have two little lives depending on me?  But that thought alone is what reminds me of the truth...I AM a good mom.  I'm not Super Woman, I'm not Julia Child, I'm not the mom on Pinterest with all the amazing ideas to boost her child's intellect and creativity...but I AM a good mom.  It's because I love my child(ren) that I have continued to fight this battle in my life.  It's because I love them that I got help as soon as I did.  It's all because I love them...and I think that makes me a good mom.

What I Need

Not a lot of people know about the battle I am fighting.  I'm just not that kind of person and besides, I'm a really good faker.  But, thankfully I learned through my postpartum experience that you cannot go it alone...especially when you have a young child who depends on stability.  Dave, my parents, my sister, Ryan and my Aunt Julie have all rallied around me and have helped and supported me in their own ways.  They have all been amazing and I feel awful for the pain that I have caused them in seeing me this way.  And while they have all been what I need, when I need it, I know they are often left feeling helpless because the ways that they can help are limited.

And then there are others who know a little less about my current struggles, but are still well-meaning in their attempts to help me "feel better."  I don't expect them to understand what I'm going through, but I do hope that they will just understand that I am going through something.  

My mom and my counselor both said it would be good to figure out what I need from those around me who are closest to my situation.  I don't want it to sound rude or ungrateful, but I am hoping it will be helpful.

• I need affirmation...of my feelings and my thoughts (which are both out of my control right now.)  Don't tell me "it will be OK" or "You're fine" because obviously it isn't and I'm not.  Yes, speak truth to me, especially when the negativity outweighs rational thinking, but don't minimize or sugar-coat what is very real to me at the moment.
• I need to be with others.  In other words, don't leave me.  I feel so incompetent and unstable right now, that the thought of being alone for even just a short amount of time sends me into a panic.  It's when I'm alone that the negative thoughts consume me.
• I need normalcy, which kind of goes hand in hand with the above need.  I crave normal conversation and familiar environments.  
• I need to be pushed, not forced.  Yes, I know I need to get out of bed but there are mornings where that one task is as daunting as hiking a steep mountain.  Yes, I'm sure taking a walk would feel nice, but the fear of a panic attack while out with my two-year old just doesn't sound very relaxing.  Don't make me do what I'm uncomfortable doing, especially by myself, but gently help me do what I feel I can do or try. And ask me what I feel up to doing...don't tell me.
• I need understanding.  This isn't just a "bad day" or "moodiness"...this is a medical condition, a sickness, that is consuming my life right now.  I know it's not comfortable for the people around me, but it's real and it's not just going to go away because I "change my thoughts."  
• I need you to listen.  Don't pretend that the elephant is not in the room.  It is and it's huge.  Changing the subject or trying to make me laugh will not make it disappear.  Let me get it out so that maybe, just maybe, it won't find it's way back in.
• I need prayer.  This is bigger than me, but thankfully it's not bigger than God.  If He's not going to let me out of it right now, please pray that He will use it.
• I need YOU.  If you are reading this, thank you.  You have been everything I need and I don't know how I would survive this without you.  I thank God for you.

Depression

I hate, hate, HATE that word.  For me it screams troubled, insecure, moody, weak, helpless and worst of all, hopeless.  I have been refusing to use the word when I describe what I'm feeling or what I'm going through...but I think I have to realize that, along with the anxiety, it's the only word to describe what I'm going through.

The waves of sadness that crash over me are greater than you could ever imagine.  One minute, I'll be fine, feeling relatively normal...when it comes over me like a monsoon.  It makes my body hurt and sends my mind and my heart into overdrive, often resulting in a panic attack.  This is what happened tonight.  I was helping my mom at church while Carter was in his childcare class.  I was in her office when I started to feel very weak and very down.  I called Dave right away because I wasn't sure if I was going to pass out or not.  He talked me through it and by the end of our phone call, he was standing right beside me with a Sprite and crackers since I had not eaten in several hours.  Thinking all was well, but still not feeling exactly right, I got up, picked up Carter, and went on home with my mom.  I was on the verge of tears, but since I hate for Carter or anyone to see me that way, I fought them with every ounce of myself.  As we were eating dinner, the waves got bigger and crashed down harder than ever before.  Uncontrollable sobs resulted in a panic attack, all the while I am feeling like a horrible mom, an incompetent person and overwhelmed with thoughts of returning to work, being alone the next day and adding another child to my life when I can't even handle the current life I have.  Fortunately, my mom was there to talk me through the attack and my dad had just shown up and took over with Carter.

I HATE what depression is doing to me.  HATE it.  This is NO way to live life, no matter if it's just for a season or longer.  It makes you afraid to wake up in the morning because you know that the sadness, fears, and negativity are what are going to greet you when you open your eyes.  It makes you hurt from the tension and the chest pains that join in with the panic.  It makes you feel so distant, from others and from your real self.  I asked Dave the other day if he even still saw me because I didn't even feel like Amy existed anymore.  And it makes you nervewrecked because you know eventually another wave is going to swell and come crashing down, ususally when you least expect it.  You become jealous of people that you see around you who are smiling, seemingly unaware that there is even a condition called depression.  They laugh, they joke around, they do what they gotta do on their own...heck, I'm even envious of my two year old.  His only definition of sad is a puckered-out lip and the cause of it is usually just being told "No."  I long for his joy...something I know I had not too long ago, but right now it seems further away than the middle of the ocean.

I keep begging God to take it away and I keep questioning Him over and over as to why He just hasn't taken it yet.  I feel like I have released it to Him, so why is He continuing to make me endure it?  I even told Him that if I must, I can handle the anxiety...just take away the depression.  Give me back my ability to live, not just survive.

I don't know why He is keeping me here, with little to no progress being made.  But I do know that He IS there because I always emerge from under the waves.  And I guess if He keeps pulling me out, then I can trust that He is not going to leave me here forever.

On the plane to Florida, I listened to Dave's mp3 player and I only listened to one song, called "God Is Able" by Hillsong.  The chorus echos through my heart every day and is often what I am chanting when a wave of sadness hits me or another panic attack threatens to take me out.  His promises continue to be my comfort.

God is AbleHe will never failHe is almighty God
Greater than all we seekGreater than all we askHe has done great things
Lifted up, He defeated the graveraised to life, our God is ableIn His name, we overcomeFor the Lord, our God is able
God is with usGod is on our sideHe will make a way
Far above all we knowFar above all we hopeHe has done great things
God is with usHe will go beforeHe will never leave usHe will never leave us
God is for usHe has open armsHe will never fail usHe will never fail us
Lifted up, He defeated the graveraised to life, our God is ableIn His name, we overcomeFor the Lord, our God is able

The Darkness

Writing has always been what I do.  Words come very easily to me and things often write themselves in my head before they ever get put on paper.  So, as I'm going through what is possibly the darkest time of my life as of yet, I figured what better way to help me than to do what comes natural.

I am six weeks pregnant with my second child.  I have a two year old little boy who is smart, sweet, completely healthy and hilariously funny.  I have a husband who loves me so well.  I have a job, my husband has a job, we have a home, two cars in the drivcway, a wonderful family...I have everything.  So why the darkness?  I've been asking myself that for nearly three weeks now. 

It's hard to explain exactly what I'm feeling and even harder to explain why I'm feeling it.  Almost a month ago, I started feeling an overwhelming sadness and even greater anxiety.  I started crying 24 hours a day, sometimes about nothing...sometimes about everything.  My chest hurt from the panic I felt and my heart hurt from the sadness.  I felt like I was losing it and I have never felt more unlike myself.  We told my parents I was pregnant and then I burst into tears.  Dave and I went on our anniversary date and I cried the ENTIRE time.  I wanted to do nothing but lay in bed but mostly all I wanted to do was sleep.  Because when I slept, it didn't hurt as much.  I didn't have to think or worry or stress...which is what my mind was doing all day, every day.

During the first week of this madness, we were scheduled to fly out to Florida at the end of the same week.  I was scared to death.  Getting on a plane seemed as crazy to me as getting on a spaceship.  I did NOT want to do it.  I would wake up in the middle of the night in a full-on panic attack or work myself into an attack during the day.  I was terrified of what could happen but I was also scared of having an attack on the plane and having no where to go.  Having gone through postpartum with Carter, I have learned some ways to calm myself down.  But only a few of them would have worked 50,000 feet in the air.  I had ridden airplanes before and NEVER felt what I was experiencing then. I was in and out of the doctor all week...between bloodwork, two EKG's and a thyroid test, it was determined  that all of it was caused by hormones, but funny how that realization just didn't take it all away.  Instead, it made me feel even more hopeless because it meant there was nothing I could do or take to rid myself of the horrible, incessant feelings I was feeling.  The doctors tried convincing me to take medication to ease the anxiety, but no one could prescribe something that wouldn't cause harm to the baby. (Fortunately, the last doctor I saw before we left mentioned an anxiety pill that has zero effect on the baby.  I take it three times a day and it has a calming effect.) The morning of our flight, I BEGGED Dave not to make me go.  He says he has never seen me like that.  But what I already knew, deep down, was that it was my ultimately my choice.  So, we went and it was ONLY by the grace of God that I did.  Was it easy? Heck no. Was I determined to prove to myself that I could do it? I could have cared less.  But I did not want to disappoint my husband or family...and in the end, God showed me what HE could do. 

I  cannot downplay the presence of God in all of this.  Nothing has brought me greater comfort than scripture, the prayers of others and hearing His promises played out in praise music.  While there are many moments when I feel like He has forgotten me, there are other moments when I know He is carrying me in His hands. He has a reason for bringing me through this, so I will trust Him, cling to Him and hang on for rest of the ride...as miserable and hard as it might be.

This blog is my journey out of the darkness because I know God will not keep me here.  It is mostly for me, but I pray that God has a purpose for it...just like I know He has a purpose for my struggle. 

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10