My Story

September 1, 2011 § 4 Comments

Part of this comes from my other site: Really? I’m A Mom?

I gave birth to this beautiful baby girl…

Even as I write that…I dont believe it. Everyone keeps telling me how beautiful she is and I just dont see it. I dont see me in her and I think thats why.

Am I normal? Is that selfish? Is that self-centered?

I don’t know.

When I gave birth to her..dang. gotta remember to write that story. Anyhow, when I gave birth to her I cried. I was so happy I gave birth to a baby girl.

Or maybe I was just happy that she finally came out. Seriously 59hrs of labor sucks.

Then they took her away, see she was born with the cord around her neck and wasn’t breathing right. I got to hold her for less than a minute.

I told her how happy I was she was here and they took her away. My husband, of course, followed after to make sure she started breathing ok.

I was left w the doctor and nurses cleaning me up.

My mom couldn’t be there cause she was watching monkey man.

I was alone.

Then after the doctor finished w me, Mr. Man came back. Said Diva was breathing was getting better. That her O2 stats were normal, they were just keeping an eye on her for a little. I was relieved. But not happy.

He then left….the nurses left.

I was alone.

I started sending messages from my phone to family. Then I stopped. Thought…hmm, I think I should rest.

Tried to rest…but couldn’t.

My night nurse came in. Asked if I needed anything. I begged for french fries. She said she would get some for me.

I was indebted to her. During those 59hrs of labor I got maybe 2 meals.

She left, I started to resent Mr. Man. Shouldn’t he be the one to get me fries?

Mr. Man came in and out of my room. Kept asking me to rest. I couldn’t. He kept going back to check on baby girl.

I got mad. How come he got to spend that time with her? Why couldn’t I?

Why didn’t he spend that time with me? I was the one that pushed her out after all.

My mom finally was able to come. She saw baby girl, but spent the time with me.

Mr. Man? Still w baby girl…and his parents.

I still had yet to see her.

They cleaned me up and moved me to post partum. Mr. Man didn’t even know they were moving me.

We passed by Mr. Man and his parents. They all got to see baby girl. me? Still waiting.

We went to my small post partum room. All of them – my mom, his parents and Mr. Man.

I wanted them all out (except for Mr. Man). But they all stayed.

My daughter finally came in the room.

I finally was able to hold her….and nothing. I expected freaking angels to sing. Seriously…I did. I mean this was my baby girl. The first girl. Now…most probably my last.

But I felt nothing. I looked at her smiled….said hello beautiful.

Felt nothing.

Coupla days in the hospital. I felt absolutely nothing. I didn’t even want to hold her. She was a weight that was too much for me to bear.

Coupla weeks at home and I felt nothing toward her. She was on the Bili-lights treatment and I thought that was it. Thats why I was feeling nothing. I was annoyed at the machine we had to lug around with her.

Nope. Once she was off the machine….still nothing.

I mean…I loved her. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her…but I was kinda upset she’s here.

She’s changed everything.

At night I got mad at her….for crying. She wasn’t a good sleeper.

During the day…if she cried, I let her cry a little before I picked her up. Still do actually.

I loved her though. I was (and still am) fiercely protective of her from monkey’s prying little fingers. I swear this kid thought she was a doll.

But still there were times when I felt nothing toward her.

Its not like I didn’t like her. Its not like anything. I felt nothing.

Wait…here is exactly what I mean……I hated taking care of her. Most of the time I didn’t even wanna hold her.

Man. I cant believe I just said that.

Then we went to her doctor. I put her down on the exam table and let the doctor check her out. Once he was done? I left her there. I totally forgot about her.

Thats when I knew something was up.

Then the arguments started. I literally accused my husband of loving Diva more than me. that he was favoring Diva over monkeyman.

Still thought it was just the hormones, but I knew something was not right. Prayed that it was just me being my old hypochondriac self.

Then there was that night. The night where I manhandled her and then had that crazy thought.

The thought was evil. It was so evil I dont even remember it, but it involved hurting Diva. I got scared. I felt that anger surge up inside of me. I thought what the heck is wrong with me.

I held her close to my body and knew I needed help. I started crying hysterically.

I went to the doctor.

She prescribed medicine.

I feel better and have not had that type of anger again, but I am calling the therapist today.

But now? I love her. When did I fall in love? When she cooed at me…and then smiled.

I am definitely in love w this little girl.

This Face…

August 31, 2011 § 17 Comments

…is tired

…is scared

…is hurting

…is confused

…is old

…hates being alone

…is in pain

…is riddled with years of self-loathing, doubt, fear, anguish and resentment

…misses chocolate

…is suffering through postpartum depresssion

…will not give up, no matter how much I want to

…will no longer feel ashamed

…is a survivor

…will make it

This face is me

This pic was taken with a HTC Hero on August 31, 2011. It was processed with the C-41 filter on Picplz.

parenting BY dummiesiPhone Photo PhunLive and Love...Out Loud

Support – where is it?

August 30, 2011 § 8 Comments

I was told – why do you need medicine? You don’t need medicine to make you feel better. You just need to pray more.

Sigh.

Where is my support?

So, I believed them and started taking St. John’s Wort. It helped for a little…then I started to realize – it wasn’t.

I was arguing just as much with Mr. Man, I was anxious all the time…it wasn’t helping. I felt like I wasn’t taking anything.

So I started taking my Zoloft again.

To which the response was: you should wait longer. Take your St. John’s Wort for like a month and see.

Really? Ya’ll want me to do this and stay suffering?

Where is my support?

I feel like there is such a shame with taking medicine for this.

I have Postpartum Depression – I’m not psychotic.

But I am apart of that group too. The group who doesn’t believe I really have PPD. I mean… hello? I am listening to them.

I am the one believing them, thinking that this is all in my head. Well, that was until yesterday.

yesterday I was on the great blog: Postpartum Progress; and I found this entry:

The Symptoms of Postpartum Depression & Anxiety (In Plain Mama English)

I was hysterical crying, cause this was me.

Almost every single thing on those lists – is me.

I have PostPartum Depression with anxiety issues.

I feel hopeless, like this situation will never ever get better. I feel weak and defective. I feel like a failure. I feel irritated or angry. I have little patience. Everything annoys me. I feel resentment towards my baby, and my partner, and my friends who don’t have babies. My thoughts are racing sometimes. I can’t quiet your mind enough to sleep. I can’t settle down. It takes me forever to relax. I am afraid that this is my new reality and that I’ve lost the “old me” forever. I am very much afraid that if I reach out for help people will judge me.

No way to escape it now….no matter how much I try.

But you know what? Its all good. I am going to talk to a therapist…and I am gonna be open and honest to everyone of my friends and family.

I will no longer fear the judging. Judge on if you want peoples. Judge on….just dont tell me nothing.

I wasn’t gonna link this blog to my facebook page, cause well…I have some friends from church who are friends with me on there. I didn’t want them to know.

Now…I still kinda don’t – but I wont be ashamed of who I am anymore.

I am a tired mama of two under two, who needs some help.

Sweet Lord….now if only I could hit the publish button.

 

Freedom, will it ever come?

August 29, 2011 § 1 Comment

Freedom.

Perfectly symbolized in the Shawshank Redemption.

Ya know that scene where Tim Robbins character finally breaks out of jail? Where he’s just standing in the creek/river/pond/thing during a rainstorm, letting the clean free rain just flow over him? Washing away the years of injustice he endured, he was finally free.

Yeah.

I want that.

I want to be free of this all encompassing sadness, free from this anxiety.

I will be free to be happy. I know this.

I know that day will come. I know I will be me again…but when?

Why can’t I just be me now? Especially when my kids … and my husband need me to be?

And why can’t people be more supportive in the meantime? They act like I want to be sad like this. I mean, of course I am choosing to be sad and freak out over stupid things – doesn’t everybody? Of course I have a choice but don’t shut me down when I am trying to talk things out! I am trying to reach out people!

I swear, if one more person says “well you can be happy, just stop dwelling in your sadness”….I’m a deck ’em.

I swear.

And if one more person says “you just need to pray more” … they are on my freakin list. Next to their name will be written NEXT.

I’m just saying… be patient with me people.

I will be free again! I will. Man…I wish I could have some chocolate right now.

My Deep Dark Addiction…

August 29, 2011 § 2 Comments

Oh it is a sad day indeed here at the Zoo household.

My deep dark obsession to all things caffeinated must come to an end.

I realized today that my body can no longer take it. It sets off my anxiety issues.

But lemme tell you how deep my obsession really is.

When I told my husband I loved him (for the first time), I said it like this:

I love you almost as much as I love chocolate.

And I really meant it…then. Now? I’m not sure.

I mean we have been married for 5 yrs. The honeymoon is definitely over.

Anyhow, back to what I was saying.

So long dark dark chocolate (the only and best type of chocolate there is)

So long Venti Soy Extra Caramel Caramel Macchiato

So long…wait those are the only caffeinated things that I care about.

Pardon me while we endure a moment of silence.

———- Shoo…enough of that. I’m gonna have decaf ….

I know it ain’t the same…but something is something right?

Dear Diva and Monkey Man

August 26, 2011 § 1 Comment

Dear Diva,

I love you. So very much.

Just because I have depression and anxiety issues does not mean that I don’t love you.

You are a perfect angel.

I am so blessed to have you in my life.

And you know those days that I cry and then scream and yell? Dont you ever think it’s because of you.

I want you to know that no matter what…I have always wanted you in my life. Yes…screams and all I have always wanted you.

Know this…I have looked forward to meeting you my entire life. You are my first born daughter.

I know right now we are still getting to know each other…but I love everything about you. From your straight black hair that you get from daddy to your long toes – that you get from me.

 

I love you my perfect little screamer

Dear MonkeyMan,

Oh my dear monkeyman, how much I love you.

I first want to say how sorry I am that I am not the same mommy you knew just a few months ago.

I know you notice how Nana is over a lot more often now.

I am sorry.

Mommy has been a little sad lately, but that has nothing to do with you. I love you so very much.

And when you see mommy cry? I am sorry that it worries you.

Please know that this will not last too long. I love you and am working to make myself better for you and Diva.

Just remember this has nothing to do with you. When you see mommy scream, cry & yell? It has nothing to do with you.

I love you and have always wanted you in my life.

You are my first born – I looked forward to you my entire life.

I love you from your curly head to your stubby toes. And when you are being a monsterman? I do love it. I love your huge kind heart. I love how much you care for your sister. I love how when she cries – you try to pick her up. I just love that.

Never lose that affection. Never.

I love you my little monsterman

I had a Bad Day again….

August 25, 2011 § 7 Comments

I am sitting here typing on the computer…watching North by Northwest. One of my favorite Hitchcock movies & all I want to do is cry.

Cry cause I feel so alone.

cry cause I hate my life.

cry cause I just said that out loud.

cry cause I just want to run away.

cry cause that means I would hafta leave my kids.

cry cause Diva screams so loudly my head hurts so much.

cry cause of freakin crickets!

cry cause I know tonight my husband wont help.

cry cause I’m tired.

cry cause I don’t want to be a mother sometimes.

cry cause people think I’m crazy.

cry cause I have no one to talk to (our insurance sucks).

cry cause my husband isn’t really that supportive.

cry cause no one really understands me right now.

cry cause we have such debt, Mr. Man is forced to work 2 jobs.

cry cause I feel like no one likes me.

cry cause I feel stupid for saying that.

I just wanna cry.

 

How do people do this? How am I supposed to just grin and bear it? Why is it so wrong for me to cry?

Another thing I want to know – why do people think PPD means something is wrong with someone? It just means I’m tired, and frustrated and sad.

Why can’t I be sad?

Even another thing – why do I care so much what people think of me? I went to church on Sunday for the first time since Diva was born. Everyone kept asking me how I was. I couldn’t bring myself to answer them. I just kept saying: tired.

Why couldn’t I be honest? Why did I hafta say tired? Why couldn’t I say terrible?

I even struggled to tell my best friend Mrs. Awesome. It was like I thought she was gonna judge me. There is one woman at church who does know…besides Mrs. Awesome.

We’ll call her K.

I dreaded seeing her. Like she was gonna give me that pathetic look. You know that look…that aww you are one sick puppy and you can’t even handle being a mom.

The same look I thought Mrs. Awesome was gonna give me. Mrs. Awesome didn’t give me that look but K did. I hate that look so much. I know she didn’t mean to. She suffered from depression as well. She knew what I was going through…ugh. I hate that look.

I have a twitter account … family follows me on it. I don’t want to share this blog on that site because I don’t want them to know what I am going through.

Why? Cause they’ll treat me differently.

God why do I care?

Sigh….I better go diva is about to get up for her bottle. And Lord knows I am the only one that can feed her.

God, I hate my life sometimes. It’s so boring. So predictable.