The Psychiatrist and a Break

So the days passed and my psychiatric appointment had arrived.  I was very nervous.  I thought that the Psychiatrist was going to look at me and tell me that I was crazy.  Again, I feel like I didn't even resemble myself.  I figured, well, if you can't tell that I need help just by looking at me, then you're probably not that good of a psychiatrist anyway!  I sat out in the waiting room with a slew of other people.  Some were sitting patiently while others were obviously dealing with extreme anxiety.  I played with my phone to pass the time away.  Before my name was called, a younger woman (probably in her early twenties) walked out from her appointment.  She was surprisingly "normal".  She seemed happy and under control.  This gave me hope.  I was thinking, well, maybe she came in here feeling like I do now, and now she seems to be doing much better...that's what I was hoping anyway!  The Psychiatrist called me back and I nervously walked to his office.  He told me to have a seat and he left the room for a few minutes.  I looked around and saw several plants growing, several books on his bookshelf, and an uncluttered desk.  For those of you that know me, this was a sigh of relief...I don't deal with clutter very well!  I sat there feeling like my world was falling apart.  He entered the room and the appointment began.

He asked me what had been going on with me and I filled him in.  I started to cry a couple of times.  I told him that I hadn't felt like myself since before having my baby.  I told him the thoughts that I had been having and the steps I had taken to address these issues.  He talked to me about a few things and was really down to earth.  I really liked that about him.  He didn't treat me like I was some crazy person who had lost my mind or that I was a wimp and should just suck it up.  He told me that this happens frequently and that we would get it figured out.  He changed me to a different anti-depressant and prescribed me an anxiety medication as well.  We addressed my lack of sleep issue and he made sure that the medication wouldn't make it worse.  He told me to get the prescriptions filled, take them daily as prescribed and to see him again in 2 weeks.  He asked me if I was taking any breaks for myself.  I told him that my friend had taken Seth overnight and it was helpful.  He told me that I needed to have someone watch Seth overnight for at least 2 nights per week.  This really hurt!  I didn't want people thinking that I couldn't take care of my own child!  I also had a lot of anxiety about Seth's sleeping and eating schedule, so putting that into someone else's hands seemed like too much to even think about.  He told me that it would help.  He told me that I needed someone to watch him for at least 1 overnight per week, but it would be best if it were two.  I scheduled my next appointment and left.

I got in my car and called my Mom.  I was crying and was very upset.  I was upset that I was now going to be on 2 medications and that I was going to have to see if someone could watch Seth 2 nights per week.  As I spoke with my Mom about all of this, she was very calm and reassuring.  She said that she and my dad could keep Seth overnight and it would not be a problem.  This did ease some of the anxiety because I knew my Mom would try her best to do things as I would do them.  She joked and said that she would work very hard on those 2 nights to see if she could get his days and nights flipped around so that I might actually get some sleep when he was back home.  Thinking about this made me want to send him to her right then!  Just thinking about him sleeping more at night was encouraging!  We worked out a plan and everything was set.

I got my prescriptions filled and began taking my new medications.  A couple of days later, Stuart and I loaded up Seth's overnight things and headed to my Mom's.  I could feel some of my anxiety leave as we drove there.  This made me mad because again, I wanted to feel sad that he was not going to be with me for the next few days, but instead I felt relief.  We got to her house, stayed for a little while and chatted, and then we left.  As we drove away, it was like life was just pouring back into me.  The guilt from these feelings was overwhelming.  I cried to my husband stating that I wished I felt differently.  I cried because I felt that life would never be the same.  I told him that I wanted to be sad to leave Seth, not happy and relieved.  He told me that it was fine and that I needed a break from time to time.  I told him that Seth was only around 5 or 6 weeks old and that most moms do not let anyone have their child overnight until they are much older (if at all possible).  Again, he said that it was fine.  He said that my Mom would take good care of Seth and that I would be able to rest.

We got home, and again, as I entered the house, I saw all of Seth's toys and baby items and I wanted to cry.  I wanted things to go back to normal, but I knew that regardless, this little baby was going to be with us forever.  I tried to put those thoughts out of my head and just try to enjoy this break.  I slept very good that night.  I called my Mom the next morning to check on things and she gave me the updates.  She said that he was up a lot over the night, but that they were working with him on staying up more during the day.  I thanked her and hung up the phone.  I felt so free.  I had the entire day to myself without any worries about the baby and his constant needs.  I jumped in my car and just did whatever I wanted.  It felt so good.  I did call and check on Seth a few times to be sure everything was fine, but then I went on as if he wasn't even here.  As that second day passed, my anxiety started to rise.  Before I went to bed, I called my Mom.  She knew that I was already worried about having to pick him up the next day.  She told me not to worry about it and to just try to get some good sleep.  Boy did I try, but it just didn't happen.  I woke up several times during the night with panic attacks.  I was having the panic attacks because I knew I had to pick Seth up the next day.  Man, what a horrible feeling!  I was actually panicked because I had to pick up my own son the next day.  What kind of mother was I?  Over the course of the night, I woke up several times and then I was up for good around 6am.  I got up and started busily working around the house preparing for Seth's return.  I cried throughout that morning.  I cried because I had to pick him up.  I cried because I was stressed and felt like crap.  I cried because of my thoughts and feelings, and I cried because I was crying about all of this!  What a circle of guilt...it just never ended.

Well, the time came.  My husband and I drove to my Mom's house and picked Seth up.  I was back to my hopeless state where I felt like I was doomed.  On the drive back home, I sat in the back with Seth and just stared at him.  How could such a small, beautiful baby destroy my life?  I came to the conclusion during that drive that I was just not meant to be a mother.  I was not "mom material".  If all of these other mothers could handle having babies and caring for them, then there was obviously something wrong with me and I was just not fit to play this part.  We got home and the cycle continued.  Seth was still sleeping during the day and was up almost all night.  I thought it would never end!

I really thought that I was at my breaking point and that I was going to lose my mind.  Thankfully I had my husband, my parents, my husband's family, and my church family to help me through.  You don't realize how important it is to have a support network until you reach a point where you feel like you can't do anything on your own.  Even after all of these thoughts and horrible feelings, the main thought I had was, I can't wait until next week when my parents take him again.  There were times that I wished that they would just take him for good.  I was ready to give up, but how could I? 

The whole healing process seemed impossible when I kept going through a cycle of guilt that ate me alive.  I heard everyone saying that it would get better and that being a mom is very tiring, but I felt like they had no idea.  They laughed about how babies sometimes have their nights and days mixed up, but to me, this was no joke.  Several people said, "welcome to motherhood!"  Honestly, I just wanted to slap them!  They had no idea--no idea! 

During this time, there were several people who offered to watch Seth for me.  At times, I was ready to hand him over.  I couldn't believe this either considering some of them I didn't even know very well.  Thankfully, I didn't just hand him over, I stuck with it and pressed through.  I tried to be the mother I was supposed to be while feeling completely empty and depressed inside.  I know that God gave me the strength to make it through those dark days.  I kept telling myself that it would soon be over and things would be back to normal.  Little did I know that I was completely wrong.

The Dreaded Appointment

Soon after Seth's overnight stay with my friend, Stacia, I went to my follow up doctor's appointment with my OB.  I'm sure that if anyone would have seen me, they would not have recognized me.  I was a mess!  I was blank--no emotion, no make up, wearing glasses, and with my hair a mess.  The nurse looked at me when I first came in and asked if I was okay.  I told her that I wasn't.  She showed me which room to enter and followed behind me and closed the door.  She asked me what was going on.  I told her exactly how things had been going.  I told her that I had been having thoughts about not wanting my son and that I had hoped that I would be better by now, but I wasn't.  The nurse looked at me and told me that everything was going to be fine and that this was a very common thing.  I told her that I felt so guilty because I loved my son, but I kept feeling like I didn't want him.  She asked if I had ever had any thoughts of hurting him.  I told her that I did not.  She asked several questions about whether my family lived in town and if anyone could help me with my son.  I told her that my family lived an hour away and that my mother-in-law had been having a lot of medical problems.  I told her that my husband was very helpful, but he was working third shift and that was the worst time for me--when he was gone.  I told her that I had barely slept for the past 4 weeks.  She told me that she wished that she lived in town because she would help me.  I really appreciated her for being so compassionate.  She told me that the doctor would be in the room in a few minutes and that I needed to tell him everything I had told her.  I said that I would.  She left the room and closed the door.

As I sat in that room by myself, I began to think.  I wasn't sure what was about to happen.  I figured that the doctor would suggest medication, and I didn't want to be on medication--I wanted to be healed instantly!  I thought that if I went on medication, I would be considered "weak".  I thought that I would have to be on the medication forever and I didn't want to have to take pills for the rest of my life.  Regardless of all of those thoughts, I knew that I needed to be honest because I truly needed help.  I sat there, with almost no feeling at all--just blah.  I could have been told that something terrible happened and I truly think that I would not have had a response or reaction at all.  I was so numb.  I stared at the small room and wished that things were different.  I wished that I could take everything back.  I wished that I wasn't a mother and that life could go back to "normal". 

The doctor came into the room and talked to me.  He asked a few questions and I was honest.  He completed the necessary medical procedures for my follow up visit and then he asked to see me in his office.  I agreed and absent-mindedly walked to a chair outside of his office and waited for him.  I sat and thought about what I would say.  How was I going to convince this man that I truly loved my son when I didn't feel like I did?  I really wondered if this appointment was really going to help.

The doctor came and I followed him into his office.  He closed the door and started asking me some of the same questions the nurse had asked me.  He asked if I had ever been depressed before.  I told him that I had struggled with depression from time to time, but I had never been treated for depression--it had never become a problem.  He asked about family history and then told me that he was going to prescribe an anti-depressant for me.  I sunk further in my chair and just stared at the floor.  He said that he would give me the lowest dose and that I should start to feel things getting better within a couple of weeks.  I told him that I would take the medication and see if it helped.  Inside I was getting angry.  Was I really going to have to take medication??  Really?  What was wrong with me?

I left that doctor's office with a prescription and battled with whether or not I was going to get it filled.  I eventually went to the pharmacy and got it filled, but I didn't take any of the medication for another week.  I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I didn't want something altering my mind.  I just wanted to be ME.  After talking with some people close to me, they persuaded me to take the medication.  I took it for three days and then stopped.  I had noticed that my panic attacks started to increase, so I convinced myself that it was due to the medication.  After some more persuading, I started to take the medication again.  I stuck with it this time.  The only difference I noticed was that I was losing even more weight (I had already lost all of my baby weight) and instead of feeling sad all of the time, I only felt sad some of the time and the rest of the time I felt numb.  I was not impressed with the medication, but after again talking to those close to me, I went back to the doctor and told him how things were going.  He then told me that I needed to see a psychiatrist.  WHAT??  Now I really felt crazy.  He thought that I was bad enough that I needed to see a psychiatrist?  My doctor even said that he would not prescribe me any type of contraceptive until I was seen by a psychiatrist.  He referred me to a local psychiatrist and they set up an appointment for me.  What a mess--that was all I could think.  So, this is what it is like being a mom?  This is what my life is like from now on.  I was to the point that I didn't think that I could take anything else.  I continued taking the anti-depressant and waited for my upcoming appointment.

What a disappointment!  The medication wasn't working.  My doctor would not allow me to go back on birth control until I saw a psychiatrist.  I was still feeling like I didn't want my baby.  I had no desire to eat or to do much of anything else besides go through the motions...and that's what I did.  I cared for my son and he lacked for nothing (except for a mom who was emotionally there).  This journey of motherhood was not what I expected.  I just wondered when I would ever be myself again...it looked like never.

Don't worry, things did get better, and are still getting better.  This step in going to the doctor was a big one!  I should have gone sooner, but I was too stubborn thinking that I could get better on my own.  If you are currently dealing with Postpartum Depression, make sure you contact your doctor.  Be honest about your feelings even if they are hard to speak.  The only way things will change is if you are honest and seek help whether that is from God, your Pastoral Staff, a friend, family, your doctor, or all of the above.  You need to talk about it!