Are you going to hurt yourself or your children?

Are you going to hurt yourself or your children?  That's the question that made things serious.  Jack was about six weeks old and I finally had everything I ever wanted.  Except I couldn't get it together.  I am an incredibly independent person with a type A personality.  I never want to ask for help and I always want things done my way.  To answer the question....No, I didn't want to hurt myself or my children.  I wanted there to be more of me to give to them because I felt like I didn't have enough to give.  Jack was born the beginning of December.  Everyone came to meet him and then went home for a week or so.  And then everyone came back for Christmas.  And then everyone left for good.  I was alone with two wonderful kids.  Lily was used to all the attention and Jack was a newborn who needed lots of attention...and well I just didn't want to get out of bed in the morning.  I couldn't sleep.  I assumed it was because I had a newborn who wanted to eat a bunch during the night, but even when he wasn't awake, I was.  I laid there dreading the next day because I would have to get out of bed again.  And I cried.  I had heard of the baby blues and assumed this was it, but it just wasn't going away.  I tried taking Lily to daycare an extra day during the week.  When she was home, I was anxious because I couldn't handle everything.  When she was away, I cried because I was lonely.  I don't know who I became, but it was definitely not myself.  I am very lucky to have a mother who experienced post partum depression.  She recognized the symptoms and kept asking if she could come help me.  I kept putting it off because I wanted to look forward to her visit instead of it happening immediately and then being over.  I felt sorry for her children for experiencing what I was doing to my kids without realizing for a moment that one of her kids was me.  I was irrational and unable to make decisions.  I wanted to be exactly the same mom I was before Jack was born, which was impossible.  My life had changed and when change happens you have to roll with the punches.  I would watch the news and they would talk about Haiti.  I knew my life was a million times better than theirs and that I had no right to feel this way, but it still would not go away.  I had no reason to be sad or anxious, but I felt these emotions every moment of every day.  I was fortunate to have three really close pharmacist friends who not only recognized that I was struggling, but that I needed help.  I didn't want to go on medication.  Even though I am a pharmacist myself, there was a stigma in my head about anti-depressants.  Then within two days of each other they each told me that if I didn't go to the doctor immediately, they were going to call her for me.  I called the post partum depression hotline and I "failed" their tests.  They also gave me one day to see my doctor or they would call her for me.  My OB/GYN is incredibly knowledgeable but I have often wondered about her bed side manner.  She often seemed hurried and maybe even aloof.  That day she squeezed me in, hugged me, and spent at least a half hour discussing my issues and my options.  We chose a drug to start me on and discussed my concerns.  I had been struggling with breastfeeding since day one.  My instinct said that Jack wasn't getting enough but everyone said he was.  And I had stopped trusting my instinct.  (Never stop trusting your instinct...it's the only thing that makes you a great mother!!!)  She "forced" me to stop breastfeeding.  I really had wanted to all along but was scared that quitting would make me a failure.  (But quitting made me a much better mom!!)  She also said I couldn't be alone for the next 4-6 weeks.  What????  I can't ask for help.  That's just not me. But between my mom (whom I couldn't have done it without), Scott's mom, and some really amazing friends, I survived.  The original medication didn't really work for me and I was switched to Celexa.  I love you Celexa.  It gave me my life back.  I was so worried I would become someone different yet again, but I became me.  Even though I think that I am better, I have remained on the medication out of fear of becoming that stranger again.
I have tried to write this post at least ten times.  It is the only post I had a hard time sharing and the only one that has made me cry (so far).  Depression is tough.  It is chemical, but when you are experiencing it, you assume it is personal.   And, it can happen to anyone. Even me.