PPD is a tough nut to crack...and more music finds

I've been dying to post all weekend, but it's been a rough one. The little one is teething (I didn't know it would be so bad!) and my PPD went to new lows. At the worst of it, I asked dh if he wanted me to leave the house and stay with my mother. I  had to leave my daughter's care up to him last night, I simply couldn't cope. I feel horrible about my inability to deal with my little girl at times like this.  I am terrified that she's going to remember these times, when I go numb and cold and speak harshly to her.  I am grateful that I have a psychiatrist appt tomorrow and I'm going to call this new therapist my support group told me about. I know I need help, and I want to be a kind, gentle, and loving parent. I don't understand why I can't cope. As awful as it sounds, I do much better during the weeks when I work and have those 10 hours away. Then I pick her up from daycare and we spend a pleasant (or fussy) evening together and I can cope. The weekends are awful. There's no respite. Even though dh takes her most of the time, I feel obliged to be around constantly, to be cleaning the house if I'm not taking care of her, or something.

I feel like I am a cold bitch. Uncaring and narcissistic. And of course, you know where that thinking leads. I think most people who know me would say I'm not these things, but I feel like those negative parts that I inherited from my parents are alive and in control right now.

Dh doesn't understand about PPD. He didn't understand the hormonal changes I went through during the pregnancy, or the breastfeeding pain and bond, and now he thinks if I just sleep for a few nights, I'll be fine. Sleep is part of it, of course, but I sometimes think he looks at me as if I'm just making these things up.

I am grateful though, that he is such a wonderful, patient father. I hope that makes up for me not being 100 percent right now.

During the night when my daughter was sleeping and I was awake (can you say insomia!), I did some searching and listening to music again and I found some gems I want to share.

Did you know there's a demo of Marko Saaresto's first solo album out there? This song is incredible for a DEMO! It's beautiful!  What an amazing voice, wowwowowowowow!!!

Poets of the Fall mentored a band called Phoenix Effect--and their first album released by POTF's independent label, Insomniac, is striking. You can hear POTF's influence--they collaborated on this album, but at the same time, there's raw talent here, too. Two of their songs: the first, King See No Evil (with Marko) and then A Light to Guide You, something that seems to have more of an independent style from POTF. This stuff is pure gold. Everything POTF touches in any way is pure gold!

Good news for a change

It's 3am and I can't sleep. I feel very blessed right now-this PPD support group I tried out is absolutely perfect. Exactly what I need. Compassionate moderators, understanding participants, resources that I've desperately needed. A place to cry and express the unsayable without judgment. A warm community of women of all different ages, and we are all experiencing the same thing! I've missed this kind of companionship. I feel so much better just having listened and been heard.

I asked, and God provided, in His own time, yet again.

Not only that, and it would have been more than enough, but dh got an incredible annual review and a substantial raise. Very unexpected in this time of fiscal austerity, and very welcome. We don't have to worry about money so much; that's a huge relief.

When my daughter returned to her daycare today, we found it completely changed for the worse. And yet again, the timing was perfect, for today I signed a contract for a new home daycare that will be so much better for her. Our doctor had told us two weeks ago to get her out of the old one, and a connection of mine recommended her sons' daycare, and there was one opening. Perfect. My pastor was right : ) God is there and opens up the door when needed-not when wanted. I guess God wanted me to experience and learn a lot before deciding these lessons were finished, as usual.

I am grateful. Lost sleep is no big deal in the face of these huge blessings!

PPD strikes again

I found a group. Not the same as before, but something to try, that is more targeted. PPD is serious, my friends. And I didn't realize this is the problem now (yet again). My hormones are a wreck and I've been trying to self-medicate; that's what a lot of this has been. I thought that ten months in, PPD wouldn't be an issue, but it most certainly is. I realized this when, two nights ago, my daughter wouldn't stop crying for four hours. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, and my nerves were torn to shreds. I yelled at her. God. I had put her down on the bed and looked at the pillows above her head, and terrifying thoughts began. I can't even write about them without such shame. I decided that I needed to get away, and I went to the basement where my husband was sleeping and wanted to ask him to take over, but he was so peacefully asleep, I just couldn't get myself to wake him. So, I went back up and became very stoic and detached and closed my mind to her cries and tried for the hundredth time to rock her to sleep. Luckily, dh had heard me coming downstairs and raced up to the nursery to see what was going on. He took over and I went to the basement and cried. My fury and anger scared me. I was afraid I had ruined her. I thought for the hundredth time that I should take my own life to protect my daughter's.

He told me I need to get help. I know this. And I am.

How can it be that I love her so much, but I still have these thoughts? She is the happiest, cutest, sweetest baby I could have imagined. What is wrong with me? No, I am not handling motherhood gracefully. I hope she doesn't remember. I want the best best for her, despite myself. Dh warned me that he will take her away if he must. Dh's loyalty is to our daughter, he made that perfectly clear. And I am glad she has such a father. Me, I'm just a wreck and what I need to do is get back on schedule, with work and meetings and talk to my psychiatrist about adjusting meds. I am really scared sometimes.

PPD ten months in...

I received a comment today on emptiness and the need to use addictions to fill it. In that moment, I realized just how empty I feel, and just how hard I'm trying to fill that hole. I haven't been able to find a 12-step group since we moved here. I can't make the hour drive to see my therapist anymore, not with a baby.  And I know a baby isn't meant to fill my emptiness--I am strongly aware of that, and I keep a level of detachment in that area. Not that I am not loving and caring of my child, but I realize that I must keep my self separate and not enmesh like my father did with me. That's the reason I continue working full time, and volunteering until I am so fatigued that I can't see straight. I try to do it ALL-keep myself intact, keep my child emotionally and physically safe and it's sapping the life out of me. I am not the same person I was just ten months ago. I feel sadder, more burdened, and unfortunately, more prone to my addictive tendencies. I find myself sometimes thinking too much about my lover, unable to detach as I need to. I keep myself up at night reading and rereading his emails and stories, forgetting at times the nature of this. I get sad, angry, then try to detach out of frustration. He doesn't fall for any of it, and I end up feeling helpless and depressed at times. Then I repair myself, become consumed with my everyday life, and it starts all over again. This is called obsession, I believe.

One of the emptinesses right now is that my daughter weaned herself very recently, about perhaps two weeks ago. It was gradual and I felt I was losing her. I had come to love breastfeeding, the closeness it brought to us, the earthy womanliness I discovered in myself, and the sense of worth and self-sufficiency I had gained through the act of being able to provide sustenance for this beautiful, dependent creature; how she grew plump and healthy on my milk. And now, it's all gone. I am left with a depression and a loss that I don't know how to cope with, aside from indulging myself with fantasies. Sexual fantasies and plans for a meeting, these things keep me going now. The fact that he will appreciate my body, as changed as it is; that he still wants my breasts in his mouth, that he makes me feel sexy and gorgeous and alive, the opposite of my feeling on most days. I'm clinging to this like a life raft, and I am so sad.

A Mother's Day Tribute

 The entire process of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum came as a shock. I was not prepared. I did not know the harsh truth about the earthiness of the process, the physicality of it, the discomfort and pain. These things are closely guarded secrets and perhaps I am breaking the womanly code of silence by admitting I was thoroughly miserable during this supposed best time of my life, but I do believe, in retrospect, I would have coped better had I understood the realities. As it was and still is, I struggle with anger, fear, and resentment, along with an overwhelming sense of trauma. Don't get me wrong, I adore my child and do not regret bringing her into the world, which amazes me after "suffering" a Western, medicalized birth, but that is the POWER of a mother's love, a God-given gift indeed.

The idea of passing along a genetic and experiential heritage was a huge factor in my decision to play "Russian roulette" with my fertility at this stage of my life. Most influential in my thinking was my father-in-law's struggle with an extremely quick and debilitating form of Parkinson's disease. We had waited nearly twenty years to reproduce, thinking we would all live forever and reproduction really wasn't a priority in any case. Now that I seem how much my daughter looks so like her grandfather, it humbles me to have thought that way. To see his pleasure and curiosity the past two days has made me realize how precious and crucial are the physical sacrifices women make in carrying and birthing their children. The reward, it seems to me, is after the birth; way after the whole affair is done and over with. And I still don't feel that happy yet, mostly due to suffering a nasty case of postpartum depression consisting of suicidal thoughts and a deep blackness that an extra twenty mg of Prozac only helps to part. But when I see my husband with his daughter, how he coos over her and his face lights up, and my parents- in-law's smiles and eagerness to accept this child, I feel that my suffering was worthwhile--undoubtedly the most worthwhile action I have ever taken. I wish I could FEEL more, though; I am still numb and walk in a fog, but it hit me over the weekend that what I have done will live on long after me, and will carry my daughter's grandfather's and her father's physical and spiritual legacy on long after they have passed. In this, I feel more spiritually at peace than I ever have.

God bless all mothers for the pain they have suffered and the sacrifices they have made to ensure the legacies of their loved ones carry on. Amen.