Living through tornadoes

The morning of Good Friday in 1991, I was sitting at the kitchen table with my mom and my brother, eating breakfast. Breakfast that morning was blueberry poptarts. Dad was in the bathroom at the other end of the house taking a shower. The weather was awful at our house in Marietta, GA. There was a thunderstorm unlike anything I can remember ever seeing before that. Despite being approximately 8:30am, it was as dark as midnight outside, except for the flashes of lightning which were so bright, they lit everything up like it was high noon. It was raining. Specifically, it was raining really hard, and the wind was blowing the rain completely sideways. The thunder seemed nearly constant and shook the house on the foundation. I remember my mom going to the front door to look outside and my brother and I followed her. I remember looking over and seeing our American flag blowing wildly and asking if we should bring it in. The radio was playing in the background but I don't remember what it was saying, it seems like it was the "wah wah wah" that you hear when adults speak in a Charlie Brown cartoon.

Suddenly, Mom said we had to get down to the basement. We lived in Georgia so people actually had basements underneath the house, down in the ground and everything. I remember following her and, despite me going as fast as I could, she was dragging me and I was stumbling. The steps were so steep as they went down into darkness, down into the ground where everything was cool and still.

We sat there in the basement, listening, straining our ears, trying to hear what was going on upstairs as a tornado disrupted our lives and tore up our house. On his website, my dad describes the tornado activity across the county and in our neighborhood/over and around our house:

"We would later find out that six maximum force tornadoes (winds measured well over 250MPH) all touched down in close proximity in the county essentially simultaneously. A friend on the south side of Atlanta (we were north) called because he had seen on eyewitness news there had been a tornado near us, and wondered if we had seen it. Andre', my best friend, called. "Pray for Darlene & the boys - they were hit in the car by a tornado! They're all shaken up; I'm going to try to get to them now." We had to laugh. We'd been through so much with them - here we went again! (They turned out to be fine, other than being shaken up.)

One tornado had come through the neighborhood, straight across the street, tearing up homes left and right. Another had gone right through the woods behind us; they had crossed by our back property line (after, we found, following roughly parallel courses for over a mile). There was a 50 yard swath cut through the woods at about 5 feet off the ground. All the tree tops were laid out nicely in the same direction - like Paul Bunyan and Babe had just gone through or something."

All of this was going on while we sat in the basement, scared of not only the tornado but scared for Dad, who was still in the shower when the tornado hit (an experience described here). We were a little off to the side of the stairs. There was a wooden desk sitting there. It was older, made out of solid wood, and had a little opening for your legs with wood sides all around, totally enclosed but for the front. I remember hunching down and pressing back as hard as I could, trying to get underneath the desk, instinctively feeling that the safest place was to be surrounded by something solid, not liking all the empty cavernous space of the basement and afraid that the ceiling (aka, the rest of the house) would fall down around us. I couldn't get underneath the desk because the leg space was filled with books (that's totally normal, right?) but still pushing back with all my might. I remember what those books felt like against my back. I was terrified.

After what seemed like an eternity, my Dad opened the door to the basement and came down to tell us it was safe to come upstairs. Mom and Josiah went upstairs with Dad. They all stood at the top of the stairs, calling down to try to reassure me it was okay to come back upstairs. Eventually, I had to be carried up the stairs. I still wasn't totally convinced that the tornado wouldn't come back. As far as I was concerned, life had just gone from normal to terrifying in a split second and now, a few minutes later, everyone was trying to convince me that it wouldn't happen again? Ha!

I emerged from the basement to find a world that seemed to me, a 6 year old girl, to be turned totally upside down. Windows were out of their frames and there were broken glass, dirt, and mud everywhere.  Outside, there were trees uprooted, but the glass cake dish on the kitchen counter was untouched. My brother's bedroom was undamaged except for a little spot in the ceiling where some water was leaking (a result of the roof being in less than fantastic shape). Across the hall, my bedroom was a total mess, having been hit the hardest of all the rooms in the house. As with many tornadoes, there were examples of this kind of surreal contrast all throughout the house and the neighborhood, the entire county.

An hour after the tornado ended, I realized I was still holding onto my blueberry poptart. Holding onto it might be a rather mild way of putting it, since my grip was so tight my fingers had made holes clean through and was basically wearing the poptart like some kind of odd ring.

This year, 2014, will be 23 years since the tornado hit our house with us inside. 23 years later, I can still remember clearly what it looked and sounded and felt like when the thunder rolled, the lightning struck, and the wind rattled everything, blowing trees over in half. I didn't get much sleep that weekend, terrified that a tornado would hit again. It was a long time before rain stopped freaking me out. 5 years later, I was still conducting tornado drills and fixing up the closets and bathrooms to be as safe and comfortable as possible if we had to take shelter every time there was a tornado watch or warning (we had moved to Central Texas where the limestone makes basements all but impossible). I think it's safe to say I may have been suffering some PTSD.

Maybe you're thinking "This is a PPD blog. Why am I reading about a tornado from Esther's childhood?". People often ask "What is PPD like?" and it hit me the other day that PPD, at least for me, was exactly like living through that tornado.

One minute, I was celebrating what should have been one of the happiest times of my life, but with a nagging sensation that something was wrong. All of a sudden, there was a storm. A massive and nasty storm, that turns my mental and emotional landscape, my entire life, everything around me, into an unrecognizable and scary scene. Everything becomes total chaos. Terrifying chaos, and I have no clue whether I'll live through it, whether or not my family will come out of it complete. There's noise. Things are light then dark then light, and my whole world is shaking and shaken. I'm utterly terrified, senseless with fear and uncertainty.

But eventually, into the darkness and chaos, light begins to extend. I start to notice that things are quieter, calmer. I'm being told that everything is over, that it's ok to come out of the dark, that life is safe again. It takes some doing but slowly, I emerge from my hiding place. I come out to find that everything in a shambles, that things are broken, but people pick me up and carry me to safety, and then people, loved ones, step in to help clean up the mess that this unasked for storm has made of my life.

When it's all said and done, nothing looked the same again. Nothing has ever been the same, either since the tornado or since PPD. But it is life, and it is put back together, it is mended, and I move on. Sometimes, I still get scared. 23 years after I lived through The Good Friday That Wasn't, I still have trouble sleeping through thunderstorms. I still go into pregnancy a little apprehensive, ever watchful for the symptoms, always on guard for signs that the storm that tore my life apart for those months might be reappearing, but I lived. I SURVIVED. And now, when I look back on both experiences, I see that I have come out of both times stronger and wiser, with more compassion and understanding for others whose lives are rocked by storms, whether physical or otherwise.

For 4 years, I've been trying to figure out why PPD felt so familiar, how to describe PPD, what PPD is like. I finally know.

If you're living through PPD, hang in there. It doesn't last forever (it only feels like it does). Eventually, the storm will let up and you'll be able to come back into the light. I can't guarantee that you'll come out unscathed, you may have some scars after all is said and done, but you will still be alive, you will still be you. The storm will end and you will be ok. There are people here for you to help you, to stand by you, to support you, to offer you a place to rest your head while you fix your roof. You are not alone in this storm or in the aftermath.

*Note* Pictures of the physical aftermath of the tornado that hit our house in 1991 can be seen here. 

Who knows?

Yesterday, a dear friend of mine turned me on to a news story that was featured by Fox 5 out of Atlanta. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get the video to play (my browser is being a little cantankerous) but the story I was able to read grabbed my attention.

The story Fox did covering Sarah Schwartz's fight with PPD is a familiar one. Breastfeeding. Anxiety. Not recognizing what was going on.

There was one thing that stood out in particular, though:

"Sarah says the irony in her story -- and the reason she wants to share it -- is that she works in mental health. She's been a social worker for 20 years and is the director of a nonprofit called Mental Health America of Georgia.

"And yet I was so sick that despite my knowledge, I still didn't recognize myself as being sick," Schwartz said.  "I thought, 'Could this be postpartum depression, could this be postpartum anxiety?'  And I thought, ‘No, I'm just a monster.  I am just a horrible person.' I understood for the first time in my life, why people commit suicide.""

People often say things like "How can you not know you have PPD?", "You must know what's going on with yourself", and all sorts of other phrases along the same line of thinking. The answer? I don't know.

What I do know is that for many of us, we don't recognize what's going on with us. You have to understand, PPD is literally messing with your brain. Me? My thought processes were different. My whole outlook on life was abnormal. I didn't recognize what was going on. It took me finding myself standing at the top of the stairs in the middle of the night thinking "I could just throw myself down the stairs", and then walking away only to think "I could take some pills and just go to sleep and not be hurting anymore and everyone would be rid of me, everyone would be better off without me anyways" before I realized "WHOA! Something is WAY off here, I need to talk to someone...".

I was good at hiding it; partly so others wouldn't think I was a horrible mother and partly, I suspect, so I wouldn't have to face the pain quite as much. Head buried in the sand, you know? I don't think most of my friends or family knew what I was going through. And most of them weren't that well informed and educated about PPMD anyways. Heaven knows I wasn't.

This difficulty that many women face in recognizing our own illness, recognizing that we need help, is why it's so important for everyone to be educated and informed about the realities of Postpartum Mood and Anxiety Disorders. It doesn't matter how well educated a woman is about the symptoms and risks of PPMD, if she's "In the fog", she may not be able to recognize her own symptoms. There are quite a few things from my PPMD months that I don't really remember. Small wonder I couldn't recognize the symptoms. If the woman in your life is suffering, she may need your help to even be able to ask for help from trained medical professionals.

Thankfully, Sarah and I (along with many other women) found help through Postpartum Progress. Postpartum Progress is a WONDERFUL resource on PPMD, for everyone, regardless of whether you are a parent, parent-to-be, or someone who is a friend or family member of a new or soon-to-be-new parent. Please, educate yourself about the realities of PPMD. Know the symptoms. Know the difference between the Baby Blues, Postpartum Depression, and Postpartum Psychosis. Know about Postpartum OCD and Postpartum Anxiety. Know about Prenatal Depression. Know it all. Knowledge saves lives. Postpartum Progress has some very handy lists of symptoms in "Plain Mama English". Read the blogs of women who have survived PPMD (a list of blogs I follow is conveniently located in a tab at the top of this page). Check out resources like Postparum Support International, who has a list of support groups by geographical location and specialized support coordinators for dads, military families, Spanish speaking families, and Arabic speaking families. Online support can be found through PSI, #PPDChat on Twitter, and many other venues (including blogs and Facebook groups and pages).

Learn. Know. Educate yourself. Educate others. One of the biggest obstacles to me getting help once I realized what was going on was shame and stigma, fear of what others would think of me because of so many false ideas. In my opinion, the best ways to fight those nasty monsters are through education and public discussion.

One last note: I'd like to give a HUGE thank you to Fox 5 for doing such a wonderful story. Far too often when I hear about PPMD in the news it's in a negative manner that may have bad/false information and just spreads the stigma. This story gets it right. I'm dancing on my chair in gratefulness. Thank you, Fox. And thank you Sarah, for being willing to speak up and speak out. Warrior Moms unite!

Shout out to a hero, Cristi Comes

I know today is 9/11 and it's expected to talk about the events of that awful day and the people who were lost in those tragic events. But you know what? I want to take today to focus on something positive, talk about someone who is doing great things to help other people.

Picture from Motherhood Unadorned.

One of the lovely things about the internet is that it helps you meet people you might not meet otherwise. Take, for example, Cristi Comes of Motherhood Unadorned. I know Cristi (online) because of both of our involvement in the online PPD community. She's one of my Warrior Mom idols, I really look up to her. She's talented and her passion for advocacy, awareness, education, and support in the PPD community are beyond description. Straight up, she rocks.

This week is National Suicide Prevention Week and Cristi has been hard at work. She's done some fantastic blog posts including a guest post from Leila (who blogs at Life As Leels) and her own blog post about ways we can fight suicide. She's been posting up a storm of links and images, such as the one to the left. She's organized an online Stella and Dot Trunk Show to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. She's been tweeting links and... well... tweets... that are relevant, helpful, etc.

Did I mention that Cristi is fantastic and I absolutely adore her?

Cristi is one of those people who truly embodies what it means to care about other people and work to make the world a better place, to fight against the stigma and myths that surround mental illness, suicide, Postpartum Depression, and related topics. She is a shining beacon of light and hope to people who feel worn out by life, who feel like they're alone, who feel like there is no hope.

There are a lot of people out there who don't get it. WAY too many who don't get it, people who actively fight against the idea that mental illness and suicide are serious, people who think that stigma is a joke and that it's okay to mock and deride those who speak up, people who think that suicide is a joking matter (it's not a joke and it's not a game). In fact, I've got another post cooking about an instance of that exact thing happening, an instance in which Cristi speaks up and people are just inane jerks to her, but I wanted to talk about the good first, because good people like Cristi deserve the spotlight more than the jerks of the world.

Thank you, Cristi, for everything that you do. You may never know how much good you accomplish and how much you and your efforts mean to other people, but your contributions can't be measured by any human markers. Keep up the good work, you inspiring person you.

Be sure to check out Cristi's blog, twitter, and the Stella and Dot show through the links posted throughout the blog.

My mom's thoughts on PPD

In honor of the fact that my mom is celebrating her birthday this week, I thought I'd share a guest post she sent me a little while back. My mom is a wonderful and amazing person; I can't imagine having anyone but her as my mom and I'm so blessed to have such a supportive woman in my life. Please welcome my mother, Sharon O'Neal.

I would like to share some of my thoughts about PPD, in hopes that it'll be helpful.

I experienced some mild baby blues after my second baby's birth. They would happen unexpectedly at the strangest moments, but then pass in a short while. I'm sure my two-year-old daughter wondered why Mommy would tear up while reading about cars, planes, and trains! But, within a few weeks or so, they were gone, and life was wonderful and busy. 

Life happened and time passed, and I didn't think about it very often. Then, when our granddaughter Elizabeth was three months old, we received a call from our son-in-love letting us know that Esther had gone to the hospital to seek help for Postpartum Depression and he was at home with the (breastfeeding) baby. I promised to pack some things and go the next day. I stayed with them, helping with Elizabeth. 

When we got clearance to go visit Esther at the facility, we would go and take turns visiting Esther while the other one waited with Elizabeth in the waiting area. I remember the first time I saw Esther after her admittance. She had the bleakest, most lifeless look in her eyes. The despair in her was almost physically palpable. It broke my heart to think of how much she was and had been suffering. As I think back now, I have tears in my eyes, and I remember thinking, “We will do whatever we need to do to help this daughter and her precious family.” 

The following season was one of the hardest in my life. But, when I see how hard Esther and Eric have fought this disease, and how passionate she has become on behalf of others, I am so thankful that she had the courage to say, “I need help and I deserve help.” And that's the message I now try to pass on to others: no matter what you're dealing with, you are loved, you do deserve help, and there's no reason to feel any shame or guilt for this problem. If there's a family member of a woman with PPMD who needs someone to listen, I'm here for you.

I can't put into words how grateful I am for Mom's love, support, and acceptance during that difficult time, and ever since, extending now to how grateful I am for this post. I love you, Mom!

Yesterday, I cried.

Warning: if you are currently having a rough time with PPMD, you may want to avoid this post. It contains potential triggers.

Yesterday, I cried. It wasn't a messy cry. It was a quiet, gentle, soft cry, with small tears and no snotty nose. But it was still a cry.

Why did I cry?

I cried because Cynthia Wachenheim killed herself.

The story I linked above, from the New York Times, reads:

Sometime before 3:25 p.m. Wednesday, Cynthia Wachenheim, a lawyer who was on child-care leave from her job, wrote out a note. On lined notebook paper, it ran for 13 pages.

According to a law enforcement official who has seen the note, she wrote that her infant son, Keston Bacharach, had previously taken a few tumbles, including “two shameful incidents,” a fall from a Gymini play set onto the wood floor when she walked out of the room for five minutes, and off a bed. She blamed herself, and was convinced that those falls had led to a series of concussions and seizures that aggravated or contributed to maladies that would harm him for the rest of his life.

Her friends, family members and pediatrician did not believe her, she wrote. But she noticed changes in the baby — changes that only a mother who spends all day with her child would notice. For instance, she wrote, her son had grown sleepier and cried more frequently.

She wrote that she could not bear the thought that he might suffer because she had failed to protect him. She wrote that what she was about to do was “evil.” 

She then jumped out of her eighth-floor window. She left behind the note. She did not leave behind her son, strapping him to her body in a Ergobaby carrier, bringing him down with her as she crashed to the ground, the crack sounding like a gunshot to people passing by.

Ms. Wachenheim, 44, died. But her 10-month-old son, apparently cushioned by her body, survived. He bounced out of the carrier and suffered only a bruised cheek.

“I’m sure you understand, I’m absolutely overwhelmed with grief,” her husband, Hal Bacharach, said in a brief telephone conversation Thursday from his apartment at the Sutton, a new sleek building at 147th Street and Bradhurst Avenue in Harlem, where he had lived with his wife.

“I have my son, who was lucky enough to survive, in my lap,” Mr. Bacharach said, sounding in shock as he repeated similar words several times. “It’s unbelievable. Right now my crying son is in my arms.” A child could be heard whimpering as he spoke.

Ms. Wachenheim’s leap was a jarring twist in the life of a highly educated, socially conscious woman who had been active in a women’s group in her synagogue, B’nai Jeshurun on the Upper West Side, and, according to her college class notes, had been a coordinator for a Harlem tutoring program.

She was on leave from her $122,800-a-year job as an associate court attorney in the Manhattan State Supreme Court system, court officials said. She had worked for the courts since 1997, doing legal research and helping judges write opinions.

Christian Johnson, a lawyer who lives a few doors down, said he had seen Ms. Wachenheim twice last week. There was no indication “that anything was askew in their household,” he said. “I was shocked.”

The baby seemed normal, he said. Mr. Johnson would sometimes ride the train with Mr. Bacharach, who never said anything about developmental issues. “Hal never mentioned that to me,” Mr. Johnson said.

But Mr. Bacharach’s mother, Barbara Bacharach, said that her daughter-in-law had not been her usual self lately.

Mr. Johnson said he had overheard the couple arguing — which he said was very unlike them — about two hours before Ms. Wachenheim jumped. He paused in the hallway to make sure it was nothing serious, then moved on when it seemed like a normal marital spat. “He was just asking her why she didn’t answer the phone and why wouldn’t she pick up the phone,” he said. “He just kept asking her and she wouldn’t respond.”

Several times in her note, according to the law enforcement official, Ms. Wachenheim expressed deep love for her son, referring to him as “beautiful.”

She said that she would give her life to bring his health back and that she hated herself for the first time in her life. She believed that her son’s falls might have brought about a serious medical condition, perhaps cerebral palsy or autism, which would have “lifelong consequences.”

Her belief that she failed to prevent it caused her to “crumble.” She wrote that she was depressed and could no longer socialize. She was sure that people would see her behavior as postpartum depression or psychosis.

Dr. Catherine Birndorf, a reproductive psychiatrist at Weill Cornell Medical College, said the word “evil” in the note stood out for her. “Usually these intensely lethal acts happen in the context of losing some kind of touch with reality,” she said. “What mother in their right mind would kill their kid?”

Postpartum depression does not usually lead to suicide and homicide, she said, unless it is left untreated or progresses to more serious mental illness, like psychosis. She compared it to the case of Andrea Yates, the Texas woman who was found not guilty by reason of insanity of drowning her five children in the bathtub. Ms. Yates, who had been struggling with postpartum psychosis, thought that she was a bad mother and that she was protecting her children by killing them, Dr. Birndorf said.

About 10 to 20 percent of new mothers have postpartum depression, according to the state health department, and only 1 or 2 out of 1,000 new mothers have postpartum psychosis. Postpartum psychosis is characterized by delusions, often about the baby, agitation, anger, paranoia, and sometimes commands to harm the infant. It has a 5 percent suicide rate and a 4 percent infanticide rate, according to the health department.

Ms. Wachenheim was valedictorian at Colonie Central High School, near Albany, and graduated from what is now known as the University at Buffalo, and from Columbia University Law School. In 1993, she traveled to Pakistan to work in a law office specializing in women’s rights and worked on subjects like “honor killings” of women suspected of adultery, according to an article at the time in The Times Union of Albany.

Mr. Bacharach said he met his wife on a bus to Boston and was smitten by her “innate kindness.” They were married in 2009, two years after she bought her apartment at the Sutton for $190,750, according to city records.

It is across the street from Jackie Robinson Park, where neighbors said Ms. Wachenheim took her newborn to the outdoor pool in the summer.

Randy Leonard and Sheelagh McNeill contributed reporting.

A version of this article appeared in print on March 15, 2013, on page A19 of the New York edition with the headline: Mother Knew Her Final Act Was Evil One.

I When I read this, I cried for Cynthia. In fact, I'm crying right now while I write this. I don't know that I know the exact pain she was struggling with, but I know the type of pain that leads you to think that maybe the best solution is to kill yourself. I know the kind of pain that makes you feel hopeless and like you're just hurting everyone around you. I know the pain that says "Everyone would be better off if I was gone". I know the pain of "What if I hurt my baby?".

I think it's important to note that this article does not say definitively whether or not Cynthia had a diagnosis of any type of Postpartum Mood and Anxiety Disorders, but the article does list several things that can be symptomatic of PPMD, and there's the fact that the article lists her son as being 10 months old (PPMD can rear their ugly heads at any time in the first 12 months after giving birth, and does not necessarily go away just because a mother and baby hit the baby's first birthday). I feel that it's important to note that I am not diagnosing Cynthia with anything. I'm not an M.D., R.N., C.N.M., or any other type of medical/mental health professional, and I don't know nearly enough about Cynthia and her history/situation to make that call.

Regardless of whether or not Cynthia was suffering from a PPMD, she was obviously hurting and struggling with a great burden. I've never met Cynthia but I know that she was so upset and hurting so much in some way that she decided the best thing for her and her baby was for both of them to die, that that was the best way to protect them. I can't say that I can't imagine what she was going through, but I think I can, just a little bit.

Cynthia is the reason why I blog. Her baby, who could have died with her but didn't, is why I blog. Her husband and the rest of her family and friends are why I blog. They are why I cry now. The world is such a cold hard place and for some people that is more true than it is for others. And when I hear about stories like this, it makes my heart hurt. I wish I could go to New York a few days ago and hug Cynthia. I wish I could tell her "It's okay, Cynthia. You're not a bad mom. You need help, let's go talk to a professional. I'll go with you and hold your hand so you're not alone. But you don't have to do this.". I wish I could save her, save all the people she leaves behind. But I can't. All the wishes in the world won't change that. All I can do is hope that she is at peace now and pray for those she leaves behind.

I can't save Cynthia, and as much as I want to, I don't have the technology to be able to go back in time to tell her those things. But I can tell you. And so, I am.

If you are out there reading this and you are hurting, let me help you. If you feel hopeless, please know that there is hope. There is always hope, even when you can't see it. If you feel like you can't go on, you can, and I will go with you. I HAVE BEEN THERE. I was hospitalized twice after my first daughter was born for that very reason. I have survived Postpartum Depression, Postpartum Anxiety, and Postpartum Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Cynthia's story is how mine could all too easily have ended if I hadn't gotten help.

You do not have to go through PPMD alone. Let me walk with you. You are not alone and you are not a bad anything. You are the most beautiful and fantastic you that could ever exist.

If you need help, let me help you.

Please.

I would not take any of these drugs

Welcome to the second post in my series This So-Called Disease. In the first installment, I talked about the person who left this comment on someone else's status about Zoloft vs. Celexa.

In that first post in the series, I touched on how the use of the phrase "this so-called disease" and others like it trivialize and make light of mental health in general and Postpartum Mood and Anxiety Disorders specifically. I'm still seething about that...

In this post, I'm going to examine the first sentence of this comment and try to express how it makes me feel as a survivor of Postpartum Depression, Postpartum OCD, and Postpartum Anxiety.

"Pardon me, but I would not take any of these drugs."

When I think of how I would respond to someone saying that, I'm torn between "That's nice. Good thing I'm not you" and something slightly less snarky. In my experience, people who say things like this usually respond to a smartaleck response with something along the lines of getting offended and huffing about "Well I'm only trying to help" or "You don't have to be so rude". Alright. First off, it's rude of YOU to come in here and tell me "I wouldn't take that" and act like you know every facet of my situation and medical history, and the factors my doctor and I are looking at. And that's without even starting to look at how incredibly rude it is to make light of someone's illness and basically blow them off. So don't go firing the first shot and then be upset when the person you've just gone after on a very sensitive topic shoots back.

If I were a better person, my first instinct would probably be to respond with something more along the lines of "Thank you for your input but my doctor and I have decided that this is the best course of action for me. Here are some facts and statistics about Postpartum Depression and mental health. Let me educate you.". But by golly, it gets so frustrating to constantly and continuously hear people who have never been in your shoes tell you that they know better than you what you're going through and how you should handle it.

When someone tells you something like "Pardon me, but I would not take any of these drugs", it's very easy to feel like you're being told that you're making the wrong decision and doing the wrong thing. Considering that when I was fighting this nasty battle, one of the worst parts was my brain telling me that I was doing everything wrong and I was a colossal screw-up, I sure as heck didn't need other people (who didn't really know what they were talking about) telling me what I was doing wrong or what I should do better/differently. I was already beating myself to a pulp,; I didn't need any outside help taking a hammer to me or even handing the hammer to me.

On top of that, you're not me. If you've never been in my shoes, you can't know what you would or wouldn't do if you were me. You can THINK you know, but you don't. Not really. Until you're inside my head and my heart, feeling what I feel, thinking my thoughts, seeing things the way I do through my lens of PPMD (and everyone's lens is a little different, no two people have the exact same filter), you don't know, so stop trying to tell me what YOU would do and try supporting me,

If you really feel that your concerns about whatever treatment I'm considering are that big that you really have to say something, do some research first and then come to me privately and say "Hey, so I have some concerns. Here's what they are, here's why I feel this way, and here's what I found when I looked into it. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just want what's best for you and I want you to know that no matter what, I love and support you and I'm always here for you.". Do you see the difference?

It's been my experience that people don't usually like to be told that they're wrong, even about small things. When it comes to something as important and sensitive as how they're considering or choosing to treat an illness, it's even more so.

I don't know many people who go into decisions about things like mental health treatment and antidepressants lightly. I know the person this comment was directed towards certainly isn't. I definitely didn't; not when I was hospitalized the first time, not when I decided to take Zoloft starting at 38 weeks when I was pregnant the second time, and not when I decided to start Zoloft at 35 weeks this last time instead of waiting until 38 weeks. None of these decisions were made lightly. They were all made with a great deal of research and talking to my husband, my medical professionals, and friends who had dealt with similar situations. In my opinion, it is the height of arrogance to set yourself up as an authority on the decisions a person is making about this type of thing when you are anything but, and to tell them loftily "Well that's not what I would do". Not only do you set yourself up to potentially lose a friend and make yourself look like a complete jackass in the process, you can potentially do a lot of damage to the person you're giving this "advice" to.

You wouldn't take these drugs? That's nice. You're not me. You don't know what I'm dealing with. And you're not my doctor. So until you can be supportive instead of being a jerk, just take this particular piece of advice and shove it. I won't tell you exactly where to shove it, I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself.

You just don't realize how lucky you are

As I've said before, a question that I hear a lot is "What can I do to help?" or "What should I say to my friend who's struggling with *insert PPMD here*?". I've written about things that can help; today, I'd like to discuss what NOT to say.

One of the things that irritates me to no end is when people say things like "Well you just don't know how lucky you are that your baby is healthy" or "You're luckier than you realize". That type of statement can get me seeing red and breathing fire in about the same amount of time it takes my dog to jump up on the chair to pull a plate of food off of the middle of the dining room table, which is to say, pretty darned fast. My feelings about that genre of statement are complex and I doubt that I can adequately express why I feel the way I do (or even the extent of how I feel) but I'm going to give it a shot.

Whether or not the person spouting this pearl of wisdom realizes it, this type of statement assigns blame to the mother for feeling the things she feels, for fighting the battle she's fighting. The message is that if you would just REALIZE how lucky you are, your troubles would disappear. For one thing, we're not stupid. For those of us with healthy babies, we know we're lucky. I think mos - if not all - of us know at least one person whose baby had to stay in the NICU with health problems, was stillborn, died after birth, etc. We KNOW how easily it could be us watching our baby fight to survive. For some women, they have been there before, You're not telling us anything we don't know and you're not giving us some great key to unlock the door that will magically release us from whatever battle we're fighting.

If it were as easy as realizing how lucky we were, don't you think that the number of women suffering from PPMD would be significantly lower, if not completely erased? One of the things that made it so hard for me to seek help the first time around was knowing how lucky I was and feeling guilty for not being "more appreciative and grateful for that".

If you say or have said this, you probably didn't even realize that it can (and often does) come across like this. But now that you do know, please don't say it to us any more. Regardless of whether we're dealing with baby blues in the first few weeks postpartum, or a more serious PPMD such as Postpartum Depression, we don't need to hear that we "just need to realize how lucky [we] are". We already know; it doesn't help.

WebMD's baby tracker app talks about PPD

I've written several posts about webpages and programs that have posted various things about PPD that made me angry, whether it's an alleged miracle cure for Postpartum Depression or a website using PPD as a marketing tool for nursing clothing. Today, though, I'd like to talk about a website that is getting something very right in the PPD arena.

During pregnancy, I have a few "pregnancy tracker" applications that I download to my iPhone. One allows me to track my appointments, weight, and symptoms. The other two are from What To Expect and Babycenter and give me countdowns to my EDD and weekly/daily information on my pregnancy, the baby's development, articles about various pregnancy and childbirth topics, and a plethora of other information. These apps have been very informative and helpful to me throughout my pregnancies and I really enjoy reading about the changes my body and my baby are going through that I can't see.

After Aaron was born, I had the idea to check and see if there were any apps that would allow me to track the growth and progress of my children once they were no longer inhabiting my uterus. Lo and behold, there's an app for that (there really is an app for everything). Best of all, it's free! I downloaded WebMD's baby growth tracker not really expecting anything too terribly spectacular because it was a free app; this was one occasion when I was very happy to be wrong.

The app allows me to switch between multiple children, put in their height and weight (and then calculates their growth chart percentile according to the World Health Organizations growth charts), put in milestones, has a "Baby Book" function, gives me a weekly reminder to take a picture of my baby so I can look back over the first year and watch him change, and a myriad of other useful and helpful functions, as well as having a very large selection of articles on a variety of baby, children, parenting, and health related topics.

It was while I was browsing the articles that I found what was (to me) the crown jewel. I was reading through a section for moms (there's also a section labeled for dads) when I discovered an article about Postpartum Depression! I thought "Oh cool, they have PPD info, I wonder what they have to say". I can't tell you how happy I was to discover that the information they have in the app is concise, well-written, educational, easy to understand, and emphasizes that it's nothing to be ashamed of and encourages women to talk to their doctors and seek help if they think they might have some symptoms of PPD. They even talk about Postpartum Psychosis and the differences between PPP and PPD, as well as symptoms of PPP.

This application was a wonderful find. It makes me so happy that someone at WebMD took the time to put effort into putting information about PPD in this app; information that is written in a manner that new moms can really understand and in a tone that is non-judgmental. I smile every time I think about it. THIS is the type of approach that I wish more companies and websites would take. WebMD, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Suggestions for battling PostPartum Depression

Today, I read a comment on my Strong Start blog post, asking for suggestions on how to overcome the Postpartum Depression. At first, I was just going to respond in the comments but then I thought that maybe this would be blog post material.

I feel that it's important to keep in mind that there is no one single right method for beating PPD. Not everyone responds the same way to the same things so not every suggestion or method will work for everyone. However, I'm more than happy to share some suggestions that work for me or that have helped other people I know. Please note that these are not in any particular order of preference or recommendation.

1. Therapy - Therapy was immensely helpful for me, both group and individual. It was good to be able to voice my thoughts and feelings to people I wasn't worried about offending or hurting, and to get the feedback and perspectives of people outside of my situation. And of course, the therapists often had good input and suggestions for coping mechanisms.
2. Medication - When I was admitted to the hospital the first time (after the night I wanted to kill myself), the doctor was willing to try a course of only talk therapy before putting me on medication, in hopes of being able to continue breastfeeding. In my situation, talk therapy alone wasn't enough and the medication I needed that time required that I stop breastfeeding so I wouldn't pass the medication to my daughter through my breastmilk. The medication got me leveled out. Bear in mind though, taking medication for PPD does not automatically mean you need to stop nursing. There are medications the doctor can prescribe that will still allow you to continue breastfeeding your baby, they just weren't what I needed in that specific situation.
3. Yoga - Several friends of mine have found yoga to be helpful to them in battling PPD. I haven't ever tried it but if I can make it work with my schedule, I hope to give it a go once my doctor gives me the all clear at my 6 week postpartum checkup.
4. Exercise - This one was tricky for me because it was hard to find the motivation or energy to get out and exercise. There were no shortage of excuses for why I couldn't get out and do it. However, when I actually did get off my butt and work out, it helped me feel so much better, it helped me have MORE energy, and of course, helped me lose my baby weight which helped me to feel better about myself and how I looked.
5. Music - I had to be careful of what kind of music I listened to because sad stuff would just perpetuate my mood and prolong it. However, listening to calm music of the variety you hear at a spa helped me center myself and regain a sense of peace. If I had no energy, listening to upbeat music could help me find a spark.
6. Massage - Who doesn't love a good massage? A massage helped me to feel better physically, which lifted my spirits. It also helped me focus on relaxing and taking care of myself.
7. Me Time - It's always hard to make time for myself but it is such a necessary thing. By Me Time, I don't mean going to the grocery store by myself to do the shopping, but doing something away from the house by myself that makes me feel better. If grocery shopping is your hobby then by all means, go at it, but I personally don't consider it quite the same thing. For me, it would be something more along the lines of going to the beach, going for a drive along the coast (except for right now when the gas prices alone are enough to induce stress and anxiety), going to the salon for a pedicure, or even just going to Ulta and wandering around drooling over the nail polish selection (have you SEEN the collections OPI is coming out with this year?!? GORGEOUS!!!).
8. Hobbies - I had to put some thought into this one since hobbies aren't something I have a lot of time for right now... haha. But seriously, engaging in a hobby is a big one for me.
9. Scripture study/church - For me, as a Christian, making sure to take the time to read the scriptures, listen to some worship music/hymns, and go to church were very helpful. Prayer isn't the only solution and it does irritate me when people say things like "Just have more faith" or "Just pray more", but that doesn't change the fact that for me, prayer does help.
10. Writing - Go figure. A blogger who likes to write. Seriously though, writing about PPD has been a fantastic outlet for me and I've heard many other people say that it helps them too. For me, it helps me to regain control and take back the power because *I* am the one deciding what I say, rather than letting the PPD and negative emotions decide that. Even before I felt comfortable being open about my experiences, writing in a journal was still something that was a huge help. Journaling has always been a catharsis for me, regardless of whether or not I plan on ever letting anyone read what I write. 

There you have it. This is by no means an exhaustive list. There are as many different ways to combat PPD as there are people in the world and different things will (or won't) work differently for different people. However, these are some of the things that I found helpful or know that others have benefited from.

What outlets or methods have you or your loved one had success with? Let's exchange ideas!

Pink is everywhere.

In honor of Strong Start Day, I'm doing a second blog post. I was inspired when I received yet another private message on Facebook requesting that all of the recipients participate in a game where the idea is to use a particular set of criteria to make up the status and then specifically NOT tell any males what the status is about when they ask. Here's the text of the one I've been getting the most often this year.

"Okay ladies it's that time of year again, in support of breast cancer awareness!! So, we all remember last year's game of writing a color as your status?.....or the way we like to have our handbag handy? Well this year, it's slightly different. You need to write your shoe size ( just the number) followed by the word 'inches' and how long it takes to do your hair... Remember last year so many people took part it made national news and, the constant updating of status reminded everyone why we're doing this and helped raise awareness!! Do NOT tell any males what the status means, keep them guessing!! And please copy and paste (in inbox) this to all your female friends to see if we can make a bigger fuss this year than last year!!! I did my part... now it's YOUR turn! Go on ladies...and let's have all the men wonder."

Being secretive about it and not telling males what your status means doesn't raise awareness. My recommendation would be that if you truly want to raise awareness, post statistics that make women aware that it could realistically happen to them, stories that illustrate that it is no respecter of persons and strikes people of all walks of life, facts (ex: men can get breast cancer too!!!), reminders of the importance of doing self-exams and what to do if you find a lump, current recommendations for when you should get mammograms and how often, risk factors, etc.


Beyond that though, where are the awareness efforts and widespread status games in the name of raising awareness for postpartum mood and anxiety disorders? Whenever I question the breast cancer awareness chain message status games and ask "Why do these not get sent for other forms of cancer?", the answer I get is usually that breast cancer is more prevalent, and more easily detected, than other forms of cancer. That may be true for breast cancer vs. other forms of cancer (although I still don't think it's a valid reason to totally ignore other forms and, in fact, is a perfect example of why more attention should be given to raising awareness about thyroid cancer, cervical cancer, prostate cancer, ovarian cancer, etc.). However, it's certainly not true for postpartum mood and anxiety disorders.

As I wrote about in my earlier Strong Start Day 2012 post, Katherine Stone of Postpartum Progress estimates that each year, in the United States of America alone, the number of women who suffer PostPartum Depression is approximately 950,000 women; she also estimates that approximately 1.3 million women suffer from postpartum mood and anxiety disorders, expanding from PPD to include those such as PostPartum OCD and PostPartum Psychosis. That's more women than are diagnosed annually with Breast Cancer (the National Cancer Institute puts that number at approximately 230,000 women).

PostPartum Mood and Anxiety Disorders can be diagnosed easily and early, but it requires education and awareness as to the realities and symptoms, and a departure from the stigma and myths that are so prevalent in today's society. Breast Cancer Awareness is a huge deal in the United States. Stores sell special pink merchandise to benefit various programs and groups. Sports teams have special jerseys. Pink is everywhere. I have no issue with the fact that people want to raise awareness of breast cancer. The issue I have is that sometimes it seems to be at the exclusion of other conditions and illnesses.

Someone asked me this evening why I would make it a contest. I don't see it as a contest at all. What I do see it as is yet another sign of the appalling lack of education and awareness regarding postpartum mood disorders. If the numbers Katherine has estimated are correct, a woman is more than 5 times more likely to suffer from postpartum mood and anxiety disorders (whether one or more) than she is to be diagnosed with breast cancer. And even worse, that doesn't negate the risk of breast cancer, you can obviously end up "double tapped".

All the women I know are very aware of breast cancer. Many, though, are not nearly as aware of the symptoms and realities of PPMAD. That bothers me to no end because I know first hand exactly how devastating and crippling they can be. I was one of the lucky ones. I was able to get treatment and had the support my of family and the few friends who knew what I was dealing with. I almost killed myself but I didn't. Too many women don't get that treatment. Some of them don't know it can be treated. Some keep quiet out of fear, guilt and shame. Some don't have access to resources to get treatment. Some don't have insurance that covers it and some don't have insurance at all. Some have no idea that PPMAD exist. 

These are some of the reasons why I speak up. These are some of the reasons why I'm so vocal in my support of education and awareness. These are some of the reasons why I participate in Strong Start Day in hopes of raising money for Postpartum Progress to be able to expand their resources and efforts for education and awareness, to be able to help and support more women in more ways (Katherine Stone has 6 other great reasons). These are some of the reasons why I'm asking people to join me in supporting Postpartum Progress. Pink is everywhere in America and I want to see that same level of awareness for PPMAD.

Happy 100th Blog Post and Happy Strong Start Day 2012

Today I have hit a milestone in my blogging. This is the 100th post that I've published to Through The Tunnel. My first post was on December 14, 2009. I had recently found out that my pregnancy with Elizabeth had caused me to develop hypothyroidism. Depression can be a symptom of hypothyroidism and the doctor and I were confident that 

if we could get my thyroid levels back within normal limits the PPD would clear up.

Knowing that there was a medical reason for the PPD was freeing for me; it was a huge relief to know that there was something we could do to actually fix the problem. I literally cried tears of joy when the nurse called and told me that my lab results showed my TSH and T-4 levels as being so far outside the range of Normal Limits that my thyroid had practically stopped working at all. 

I started taking Synthroid and sure enough, within just a few weeks there was a noticeable difference. 3 months of thyroid medication did what 6 months of antidepressants, antianxiety medication, and sleep aids had not and I was able to come off of all my medication except, of course, the Synthroid. I can't express how much relief I felt at hearing the doctor say that I was "considered successfully treated". 

When I received that diagnosis of PostPartum Depression and was hospitalized, the shame and guilt that I felt were overwhelming. I was sure that I would never be able to tell anyone my terrible secret. I limited the people who knew to only those who HAD to know. I asked my parents not to tell anyone else in the family. My husband, being in the military, had to tell his Chain of Command, there was no way around that, but I asked that the information be limited to only those who absolutely HAD to know. I was terrified that people would find out and look at me differently, that they would be horrified and think the same thing I did, that I was a terrible wife and mother, that I was a failure. I was sure that nobody I knew had ever gone through anything like this and there was nobody else who would understand.

I know differently now. I know that none of what happened was my fault and that there was nothing to be ashamed of, that it didn't make me a failure. I know that there are other people who have been through the same thing. Some of those are people I know in person. Some of them are people I know solely from online interactions but I love and respect them just as much as anyone I've ever met in real life.

One of those people is Katherine Stone. Katherine is an absolutely wonderful person, and one of the strongest people I know. From her website,

Katherine Stone (@postpartumprog) is the founder and editor of Postpartum Progress, the leading blog on postpartum depression, and a parenting columnist for Disney’s Babble.com.  She’s also the founder of Postpartum Progress Inc., a national nonprofit focused on vastly improving support for women with perinatal mood and anxiety disorders.

Katherine and PostPartum Progress were my inspiration for starting my own blog about my journey. PostPartum Progress was a wonderful resource for me when I was in the midst of my PPD and has continued to be a wealth of information; I frequently link the blog posts on my Facebook and Twitter because they are so well written and have such an important message. PostPartum Progress is where I found the link to My PostPartum Voice, which led me to the Twitter community #PPDChat and a whole world of support that I never dreamed existed.

The work that PostPartum Progress does is beyond calculable value. In a post titled How Many Women Get PostPartum Depression? The Statistics on PPD, Katherine estimates that each year in the United States of America alone, the number of women who suffer PostPartum Depression is approximately 950,000 women with approximately 1.3 million women suffering from postpartum mood and anxiety disorders, expanding from PPD to include those such as PostPartum OCD and PostPartum Psychosis. That's more women than are diagnosed annually with Breast Cancer (the National Cancer Institute puts that number at approximately 230,000 women). October is well known for being Breast Cancer Awareness month with chain stores selling pink merchandise to benefit breast cancer research and awareness, teams like the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders doing special routines with special costumes for BCA, celebrities doing major breast cancer awareness campaigns, and so much more. Breast Cancer Awareness is well and good but where are the major awareness, education, and outreach campaigns for PPMD?

The shame and guilt that I felt, that so many other women feel every day, is largely due to the lack of public awareness and education, to the stigma, misconceptions, misunderstandings, and myths that are so prevalent in our society. PostPartum Progress is working actively to combat that and change the tide, to make people aware of the realities of PPMD and to let women like me know that we're not alone. When you feel like you're floating alone at sea, struggling to keep your head above water, that realization is like a life preserver being thrown to you by the Coast Guard to keep you afloat until the rescue swimmers can get you to safety.

PostPartum Progress can't do it alone though. Last year, Katherine came up with the idea to do Strong Start Day. The idea behind Strong Start Day is that since October 5 is the day of the year that, statistically, the most babies are born, it makes sense to have that  be a day to focus fundraising efforts towards raising money to help PostPartum Progress expand their capabilities and improve their resources so that they can help give more new moms and babies a strong start.

PostPartum Progress helps and supports so many women and families. It seems appropriate to me to dedicate my 100th blog post to supporting someone who has supported me and supports so many other women who are in similar situations or worse. I'm asking that my friends, family, and anyone else who's reading consider supporting PostPartum Progress. As stated in her post about Strong Start Day 2012, 

My goal for Strong Start Day 2012 is to raise enough money to allow Postpartum Progress Inc. to translate what we have done online into offline materials. I am asked all the time by nurses, doulas, physicians’ offices and if they can use the words we have created here to help mothers understand what they’re going through and that they can get better. They want our words because they believe we reach moms in a safe and accessible way. They want and need materials from us, materials that I have yet been able to give them because I haven’t had the funding to create them. Not every new mom is online. Plenty don’t have Twitter accounts. They aren’t on Pinterest. We need more ways to reach moms who need help.

This Friday, October 5th, is the 2nd annual Strong Start Day for Postpartum Progress. We only ask for your help one day a year because we don’t believe in bombarding our friends with continual requests for donations. I know I get zillions of them — in my inbox, my mailbox. We want this one day — October 5th, the day each year on which more babies are born than any other — to be the one day you are reminded to give whatever support you can to Postpartum Progress, and to encourage everyone who loves you and who believes moms should know more about postpartum depression to support us too. I hope you’ll join us.

If you'd like to donate to PostPartum Progress, you can follow the link or click the red button below. I hope you'll consider joining me in donating to this cause that has meant so much to me and to so many other women. Regardless of whether you can donate monetarily, please spread the word in some way, whether it's sharing the link to this blog post or sharing Katherine's links.

Over the last 3 years and 100 blog posts, so much has changed for me. New babies, a cross-country move, and so much more. What hasn't changed is that many many many other women are suffering, some in silence, from PPMD, and that PostPartum Progress is there to provide support, education, and a variety of resources. What does need to change is the lack of awareness in today's society. Today, we have the chance to help power that change. Will you join me in supporting Katherine and PostPartum Progress?

P.S.
As another show of support, if you're reading this, will you leave a comment below encouraging Katherine in her efforts to advocate for Warrior Moms everywhere?

How do you deal with the shame and guilt?

Last night as I was lying in bed wishing I were asleep (but instead listening to a very noisy 2 week old scoot, grunt, squirm, sigh, squeak, belch, fart, and make every other noise you can think of), I logged on to Twitter. As I looked through my feed, I saw that someone who has just been diagnosed with PostPartum Depression had tweeted me asking how I deal with the guilt and shame.

My heart immediately went out to her. I know exactly where she's coming from. I'm fairly certain that I asked the exact same question when I was diagnosed with PPD. At the time, it seemed like the worst thing in the world. I felt like the biggest loser ever to walk the face of the earth, like I was a shoe-in for the Worst Mom of the Century award, like an utter and complete failure at everything. What had I done wrong? How did I get to such a dark place? I must have screwed up somewhere, right?

I know now that every single bit of that was a lie. There is no one right way to deal with the shame and guilt, no single answer that is the magic formula for everyone, but there are some important things to keep in mind, things that helped me to cope.

You have nothing to be ashamed of, you are not guilty of anything. You haven't done anything wrong. You didn't screw up somehow or commit some grave error that resulted in your diagnosis. It is absolutely not your fault that you are struggling with this nasty critter. Guilt means you did something wrong. You didn't. Don't let society tell you otherwise. Don't let yourself give in to the line of thought that if you just make up your mind to be happy, start praying more, etc. you will miraculously be cured. Don't give in to the negative ideas that society throws at us. It is not your fault.

Having PPD doesn't say anything about you as a wife or mother. It doesn't mean you're a failure or say anything about your success in any area. The only thing PPD indicates is that your body has betrayed you. It doesn't mean you suck and it certainly doesn't mean you are lacking.

It's normal to be scared, worried, angry, or any other of a whole myriad of emotions. Don't think that because of whatever it is you're feeling you are anything less than a wonderful person. You are beautiful, brave, and strong. You will get through this and you don't even have to do it alone. You are a wonderful person. Don't let what society tells us about PPD and mental health get you down. You are a fighter and a survivor. Don't be ashamed, don't feel guilty. Just take it one day, hour, or minute at a time. Be patient and kind to yourself and don't beat yourself up. You are beautiful, inside and out, and you are loved. Don't be afraid to reach out for help and support. You are wonderful. Never forget that.

Lady sings the (baby) blues

Today, I'm sad. And mad... and grumpy, angry, cranky, happy, irritated, and gloomy, depending on what minute you catch me in. I've cried at the drop of a hat, been laughing 5 minutes later at an e-card a friend sent me, and been in tears for no apparent reason 30 seconds after that. I've been on an emotional roller coaster the hormonal equivalent of the famous real-life roller coaster The Cyclone on Coney Island. Straight up, I have been a mess today. My eyes are red and puffy, my nose is stuffy (and a little raw from wiping), and I have that good old Crying Headache. If you looked up "Mess" in the dictionary, you'd probably find my picture. Why? Simple... I've got the Baby Blues.

"Baby blues" is a term used to describe the mood swings that new moms may experience in the first few weeks after giving birth. According to the American Pregnancy Association's information page about the baby blues,

"approximately 70-80% of all new mothers experience some negative feelings or mood swings after the birth of their child". 

The baby blues themselves are not an uncommon experience for new moms (and yes, you are a new mom after the birth of every child, no matter how many times you've given birth before). As long as the baby blues aren't accompanied by symptoms such as thoughts of hurting myself or my baby, and they go away by 2-3 weeks postpartum, there's really no need for me to be concerned unless I or someone else feels like it's just getting worse and/or staying bad all the time instead of  being an ebb-and-flow type thing. I'm already on Zoloft and have been since I hit 35 weeks pregnant. The baby blues, although commonly confused as being the same thing as PostPartum Depression, are not PPD and while it sucks to be up-and-down, is not necessarily a cause for me to be concerned.

I know the facts, I know the statistics, I know "The drill". Call the doctor if things get bad, don't be afraid to reach out for help if I need it, don't hesitate to talk to my friends and family about what I'm feeling, it's all perfectly normal, etc. etc. etc. I wish it were that easy, though. Because of what I went through with the PPD after Elizabeth was born, I tend to be a little on the "overly vigilant" side of things, super aware, shall we say, of my moods and emotions with regard to mental and emotional health.

It's hard to have days like today and NOT immediately go "Oh my gosh, what if it's PPD again!". You try and you try not to let fear run your life but sometimes, it kicks in and you start to worry. So here I sit, hoping that typing out this blog post will help me to process what I'm feeling and refocus on the fact that what I'm going through is normal and I don't need to go check myself into the hospital.

I'm lucky to have some great friends and family. I posted about how I was feeling ("Baby blues: like PMS on Steroids" was my Facebook status) and immediately had people giving me support and encouragement. Some of the wonderful ladies from #PPDChat hit me with the same. My mom got home from the grocery store and gave me a huge hug (I'm about to start crying typing that but I suspect that has as much to do with her flying back home as with anything else). My husband brought me supper and a drink and was just his usual sweet self, taking care of me. One of my cats came and loved on me. Some of my friends jumped in with dumb jokes and funny e-cards to cheer me up.

It's that type of love and support that keeps me going, that helps me get through the rough patches. That type of encouragement reassures me that I'll be okay no matter what and that my dramatic feelings of... well, dramatic maudlin-ness, will pass with people loving on me and holding me up when all I want to do is to collapse and wail "I hate the world!". And then, there's the knowledge that it really is okay to just hole up in my room, bury my face in a pillow, bawl my eyes out without even being sure of why I'm crying in the first place, and then go blow my nose and eat an ice cream bar or 10.

You do what you have to get by and try not to feel bad about it. It's easier said than done but it can be done. The baby blues suck but they're not the end of the world, they're not the same thing as PostPartum Depression, they don't mean I'll end up with PPD again, and they really will go away. All I have to do, all YOU have to do, is hang in there and keep on keeping on, trying not to beat ourselves up in the process. Because really, there's nothing to beat ourselves up for. We have no control over what our bodies do as far as hormonal changes, it's not our fault, and there's nothing wrong with us. At the end of the day, we're still humans and moms and nothing we feel can ever change that.


To learn more about the baby blues, I recommend these links.

• http://www.babycenter.com/0_the-baby-blues_11704.bc
• http://www.americanpregnancy.org/firstyearoflife/babyblues.htm
• http://www.marchofdimes.com/pregnancy/faq_whatarebabyblues.html

Sometimes people just do bad things.

Over the last few days, two news stories in particular have been coming across my news feed a lot. One is about Terrence Tyler, a 23 year old Marine (no longer in the Corps) who shot and killed two fellow store employees before killing himself at a New Jersey supermarket. According to the news story, 

"Tyler, formerly of Brooklyn but living in Old Ridge, served in the U.S. Marine Corps from 2008 to 2010, a Marines spokesman said. Tyler was a lance corporal and rifleman, who received two medals and never served overseas, the spokesman said.". 

I have not been able to find any information as to what kind of discharge he received (Honorable or otherwise). The news story also states that, according to a law enforcement source, 

"Tyler may have had a history of depression or mental illness".

Naturally, plenty of reactions seem to be "He must have had PTSD". Another opinion I've seen floating around is that "He couldn't have had PTSD, he never deployed". These are both inaccurate. As to the first, no, he does NOT have to have had PTSD. For one thing, if it's true that he had a past history of depression//mental illness, why could it have been that instead? Are we assuming that since he served in the military any mental issues that caused something like this have to automatically be PTSD?

As to the second, PTSD is not something that is reserved specifically for troops who deploy to combat, it's not something exclusive to overseas military service. PTSD stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. We usually hear about it in the news most often in relation to servicemembers and veterans but it is hardly exclusive to the military community. PTSD can come about as a result of any traumatic event. Rape and abuse survivors, vehicle accident survivors, someone who was caught in a fire, people who are onlookers witnessing an event that is traumatic to them, people who have lost a loved one, anyone who experiences anything that is traumatic to them can suffer from PTSD. PTSD can occur after a woman has a childbirth that was traumatic to her. Someone living with a spouse or loved one with PTSD can develop their own PTSD. According to PostPartum Support International,

"Approximately 1-6% of women experience postpartum post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) following childbirth. Most often, this illness is caused by a real or perceived trauma during delivery or postpartum. "

Women who have survived a PostPartum Mood Disorder can struggle with PTSD as a part of the aftermath. 911 personnel can develop PTSD due to the situations they may be put in as part of their work. PTSD is not exclusive to any one community, nor is it limited to a specific type of situation. If Terrence Tyler experienced something that was traumatic to him during boot camp or any part of his time in the U. S. Marine Corps, he could most certainly have developed PTSD and it is certainly possible that that could have been linked to his actions in shooting and killing two others in addition to himself. The thing is, we just don't know.

The other story I've been hearing a lot about it that of Tiffany Klapheke, a woman arrested after her 22 month old daughter died, apparently from extreme neglect. Her other two children, a 3 year old and a 6 month old, are currently in the hospital, apparently also suffering from the same. And of course, as is the norm when a mother is responsible for the death of her child, many people are jumping straight to "Oh, well, since it's a mom who killed her child, it must be PostPartum Depression".

NO. It does NOT have to be PostPartum Depression. Again, it could be another mental illness. It could be totally unrelated to mental health altogether and be the result of bad parenting or other factors. Just because a mother is responsible for the death and/or injury of her children does not mean it's automatically a PPMD. This isn't even getting deep into the fact that most of the time, when people refer to "PPD" as the reason a mother kills her child (usually citing the cases of Andrea Yates and/or Otty Sanchez), they are actually referring to PostPartum Psychosis, another PPMD but a separate and different illness than PostPartum Depression. PPD and PPP are not the same and can not/should not be used interchangeably. If you're going to toss around "So-and-so must have *insert mental health problem*, please, at least know what it is you're actually talking about.

But beyond that, it is injurious and unfair to automatically assume that someone who does something bad must be suffering from a mental illness. It makes it harder for people who are suffering to ask for help. To focus specifically on servicemembers who are dealing with PTSD, it's already incredibly difficult for them to go talk to someone about it. Among other things, they fear being seen as weak, as not being able to do their job, as not being good Soldiers/Airmen/Marines/Sailors/Coasties. They worry that if they speak up about their problems, they will automatically lose their security clearance, be reclassed to a different job, be discharged from the military altogether. They worry about being mocked and made fun of by their coworkers, about being looked down on and told to "Suck it up and stop being a pansy" and of being seen as malingerers by their Chain of Command. They already fight these stigmas, concerns, and myths. People automatically jumping to the conclusion that servicemembers who do bad things must be the result of PTSD add another layer of fear to it: the fear that they may be immediately seen as a threat and a potential monster. This is all aside from whatever internal pain and traumatic events are causing them to suffer in the first place.

Assault/abuse survivors may already be wrestling with unnecessary guilt over "Was this my fault? Could I have done something different to prevent this?", or with people being suspicious that they somehow brought it on themselves or are lying about what happened to them. People who are dealing with PTSD as a result of anything other than military service may not even be aware that PTSD could be something they face, or they may worry that people will laugh and bring the exact attitude of "You're not military, you weren't deployed, you don't have PTSD". Women who are struggling with PTSD after childbirth face those who have the attitude that "Childbirth couldn't possibly be traumatic" (and yes, I have personally heard/seen that said and that attitude thrown around).

With regards to a PPMD, I can't stress enough how terrifying it was to be suffering from PPD. To feel like I wasn't in control of my emotions and, to some extent, my actions and reactions, to have thoughts that popped unbidden into my head of hurting/killing myself, to constantly feel numb and dulled and in a fog and not even know why, to feel those waves of anger and sadness, to know deep down inside that something was wrong but not know what or why, and to feel like it must have been something I was doing wrong. It was beyond scary. Once I realized that I had all the symptoms of PostPartum Depression and NEEDED to get help, that was a whole new dimension of fear. Fear that it meant I was a horrible mom and a failure as a wife and mother, fear that it meant I was a monster, worry that when I went in and said "I need help, here's what I'm dealing with" CPS would be called in to take my baby girl away so that I couldn't try to kill her. After I was released from the hospital I dealt with the concern that if I told anyone what was going on, they would look down on me, mock me, laugh at me, judge me, criticize me, not trust me, and assume that I must be like Andrea Yates, that I must be on the verge of killing my child in some horrific manner.

These stigmas and fears are perfectly normal for anyone who is dealing with PTSD, PPD, or any other mental illness. These stigmas are exactly what I and so many others are trying to fight, why we work so hard to educate people, why public discussion, education, and advocacy are so vital. Steps in the right direction are being taken and forward progress is being made. However, sadly, when people hear about stories like this and start talking about what mental illness must have caused the person in question to have done whatever they did, it is a step in the wrong direction, movement backwards, and adds to those stigmas and myths we all work to combat and dispell. It's not harmless to toss around these attitudes and assumptions, it hurts people who are dealing with these issues and makes people who need treatment more afraid to ask for help. It hurts the loved ones who are tying to support them and see the pain they're going through. It hurts everyone who has suffered, is suffering, and will suffer.

It also does a disservice to those who are doing the spreading. You don't deserve to believe false things, you deserve to be educated and knowledgeable about these issues that society is dealing with. You deserve to know what the symptoms of PostPartum Depression is and exactly how many women suffer. You deserve to have the confidence to be able to ask for help if you need it someday instead of ignoring your own problems because you believe the stigmas you've helped to perpetuate and spread.

Today, you're the one saying that Terrence Tyler must have had PTSD or Tiffany Klapheke must have had PostPartum Depression. But remember, one day you could be the one dealing with your own inner demons and not wanting to reach out for help because you don't want to be seen as the monster you have labeled Andrea Yates and Otty Sanchez as. It could be your son who comes back from combat with more wounds on the inside than the outside or your daughter who can't find her way out of the darkness after she has a baby. It could be you who suddenly has to fight the very attitudes you've helped foster. Why not do yourself and your loved ones a favor and take some time to educate yourself about the causes, symptoms, victims, and survivors of the various mental illnesses you think you know so much about? Educate yourself, educate your loved ones, educate the world, and maybe as that happens you'll help someone who is suffering to get help before they become a news story.