For the men...

This post is a tribute to all the men who love and support women as they enter motherhood. And specifically to my husband, Tim, who has endured so much while at my side. I am so grateful for the knowledge that we are sealed together for all time and eternity. Thanks for sticking this out with me babe, I'm so glad we get to do this together.
Tim has endured my irritation, my mood swings, my weepy and melancholy days. My diagnosis, my medical bills, my therapists, my search for treatments, my attempts at self care, my failures and frustrations. While reading a bedtime story with our kids one night, we came across the phrase "kaleidoscope of mope." Tim teased that it was describing me! He, on the other hand is as happy as a clam. Especially when he gets "Tim time" outside hunting, fishing and hiking. So to live with the emotional roller coaster I have been these last 3 years has been very trying for him. Not to mention the worry, the constant fear for his wife's sanity. Will she ever be better? What can I do? Why is this happening? Is she safe? Is our baby safe?
After one night of constant crying, (me and the baby) I was so low, so dark and so angry. I was afraid I would shake our baby in my frustration. I put her in her swing, still crying, and I ran outside. I paced back and forth on our patio under the full moon. I longed to bash my head in. To just grab the corner of the house and bang my head into it repeatedly. I longed to find the release that seemed to wait for me in ending my life.
Tim came and got the baby but I'm sure he was so torn; he had to care for the baby but I was clearly acting crazy and couldn't be left alone. I remember pacing and panting and deciding to go into the garage to get in the car. Tim came after me, wide-eyed, holding our firstborn. "You're not well right now and you need to come in the house right now" he said in an authoritative voice. I rushed into my bedroom, through our bathroom and into my closet. I flipped on the light and crumpled to the floor. I was going insane. I knew it. I knew I was crazy and I would have to be committed to a hospital. I may never see my family again or my home. I didn't want to go crazy, I hadn't done anything to provoke this departure from reality and sanity. Yet, here I was, on the floor of my closet, wrapping my arms around myself trying to hold the pieces together. I sobbed out a prayer for relief from the darkness encompassing me. Soon, a warm, calming, comforting reassurance came to me. I knew I would survive this night. I was strengthened by the memory of my Grandma Jensen. She passed away a couple of years ago and we weren't even all that close, but I know I felt her presence, her reassurance and love that dark and lonely night.
The next morning Tim urged me to set up an appointment with my OBGYN. Luckily, he could take care of Hazel while I went to my appointment. He encouraged me to be open and honest about my thoughts and feelings and to ask for her help. His mantra that got us through the months after our first baby was "lots of people have done this, we can do this." He sensed my feelings were not unusual and hoped they were treatable.
We weren't taken completely by surprise when I started experiencing postpartum depression. I had struggled with depression and anxiety my whole life which made me more susceptible to postpartum episodes. Also, Tim has a sister who struggled with postpartum depression. I remember talking to her about it and Tim saying "You're a dead-ringer for that." I resented his prognosis and hoped to prove him wrong. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
My OBGYN was very understanding and reassuring. She diagnosed me with postpartum depression and prescribed 50 mg of Zoloft. She said I should feel a big difference right away and to call daily to report my mood. She also gave me the name and number of a Licensed Clinical Social Worker or LCSW. At the time our insurance wouldn't cover much of the cost of visits to a LCSW so I decided I would just take the medicine and hope for the best. It helped right away. No more dark doubting days, no more longing to end my life. No more pacing and crying and willing the hours away. It was still hard, my baby still wanted to eat every 2 hours and it took her 45 minutes to eat so I was only sleeping for an hour at a time. But that only lasted about 8 weeks and then she would go 3 hours at night and then 4 hours without eating. Tim and I still joke about the steep learning curve that we experienced with our first newborn. Soon, life gets back to normal. A new normal, one with a sweet chubby cherub of a baby that we both love more than we ever knew we could love anything.
So here's to the men and to my man for riding the waves and enjoying the peaks and holding my hand through the valleys.

A village? I say it takes an army!

Two things happened recently that reminded me of how fortunate I am and how indebted I am to so many people who have seen me through my darkest days over the past few years. First, a boy I grew up with took his own life. It is shocking and incredibly sad to know someone who was in so much pain or who was so sick that ending his life seemed like his only option. I don't know very much about the circumstances surrounding his death but my heart goes out to his family for the pain and confusion they must be experiencing. I feel some survivor's guilt knowing I was there, I was right there. I have been so close to taking my own life and I was saved. So why not him? I don't know what I have done to deserve to be surrounded by so many saviors, to be saved time and again from myself. I wish I could have helped him, I wish I could have shared the army of strength and encouragement I have received with him and his family.

His circumstances have motivated me to share more about my experiences with postpartum depression in an effort to tear down some of the misconceptions about mental health and to encourage people to reach out to others. You really don't know how influential you can be in someone else's life.

The second thing that happened is I saw this video on my church's website entitled Sitting on the Bench: Thoughts on Suicide Prevention. I've watched it again and again. It is so comforting to know other people have felt what I have felt, that I'm not alone and that there's help for me. To be reassured that there are people who love me unconditionally, who will "sit on the bench" with me. People who won't shy away from my scary thoughts, people who will advocate for me and my health, people who are cheering me on, who believe in me, that I can make it, that I can get better and be better. People who can see me separate from my depression.

I remember one night last fall when I was driving back to my parent's home, pregnant, with my two little girls in their carseats in the back, and I couldn't stop crying. I was so overwhelmingly sad. Depression has been the most powerful emotion I've ever experienced. I could not stop sobbing and I was so scared. I knew from previous experience that I should not be alone. I tried to muster up the courage to drive home alone, to be alone, to get my girls in jammies and diapers and bed. I just couldn't do it. I find that depression is so powerful and overwhelming that it compromises my ability to do even the most menial tasks. I needed help. So I called for help. I called my aunt, I called my sister, I asked for help. I was embarrassed and confused; I couldn't really explain why I was so sad, I was just really depressed and terrified of being alone. My sister and brother-in-law were at my parent's house when I got home. They helped me get the girls to bed and then we just sat together and watched HGTV. We didn't talk about my sporadic sobbing, they didn't try to console me or hush my fears, they just sat with me. When I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer my sister came downstairs and laid by me until I fell asleep. It's still one of the most touching things anyone has ever done for me. I don't know how they felt about being with me, but they didn't seem uncomfortable. I hope they didn't worry about saying the right thing, they just stayed with me until the storm of sadness had passed. They didn't chide me for being so emotional or tell me to just snap out of it. They reassured me that what I was feeling was real and that I didn't have to weather the storm alone. 

When I had my third baby we were all apprehensive about how I would feel afterwards. Especially since I had been depressed on and off throughout my pregnancy. The Relief Society President from my church worked with me and my mom to organize volunteers from our church to come and help me while my parents worked and went to school. (My mom was pursuing a Bachelor's Degree from BYU-Provo and my step-dad was working from home). For two months ladies came almost every day and cared for my two girls or sat and visited with me or fed my baby boy. Their visits bolstered my strength, they told me stories of having their own babies, of grand-babies and hopes of future babies to be born. They took my girls to the park and into their own homes to play with their children. Meals came every night from ladies ready and willing to help me and my family. I can honestly say my children have a mother because of the strength, the service and the love of my family and the women of the Relief Society. I will never be able to repay all the people who have reached out to me with reassurance, encouraging words and loving kindness. I hope to be able to be an influence for good in the lives of others and to inspire people to notice those around them who may be suffering and to look for ways to help. 

So if you know someone who is suffering or if you feel prompted to visit someone, give someone a call or send a text, do it! Your words may be just what they need to tip the balance from despair and desperation to peace and calm. 

Is breast always best?

A few weeks ago, I was warming up for a Crossfit class when the subject of breastfeeding came up. One of the men in the class was telling us about his new baby and how his wife was really struggling with breastfeeding. The women in the class let out a collective moan. We all agreed breastfeeding a newborn was incredibly painful. The instructor, my friend Bev, admitted she had tried breastfeeding once, not with one kid but one single time and just hated it. She felt like it would trap her even more than having a baby already did. She also felt like there was something wrong with her if she didn't want to breastfeed. Like maybe she wasn't a good mother. I struggled with some of these same feelings after I had Hazel and breastfeeding was so stressful and surprisingly painful. I had only seen women breastfeed older babies like 3 month old and it seemed effortless, they just draped a blanket over themselves, unhooked a few things and let the baby go to town. Some women even seemed to find it relaxing. I wondered what I was doing wrong because I hated breastfeeding and dreaded it every time my baby would cry. I've talked to many women who have struggled with feelings of inadequacy and guilt about breastfeeding their babies and I'd like to diffuse some of the pressure surrounding the breast vs. bottle debate. This is not a report of statistics or facts about how breastfed babies do in comparison to bottle fed babies, this is just my experience, take it or leave it.
First, the pain. For those of you who have not breastfed a newborn, imagine attaching a tiny vacuum hose to your most tender body parts for up to 12 times in a 24 hour period. The suction a newborn is able to produce is nothing short of amazing. If my milk hadn't let down before I started nursing, I would feel the pulling all the way to my armpits, sometimes even across my back! Before I had babies, I thought my breasts would release milk in a sort of stream, like a faucet. Now, that does happen occasionally, but most of the time it is more like a sprinkler, with the nipples releasing many tiny droplets from many parts. Each of these droplets feels like needles coming out of again, a very small and tender body part. Besides the pain, I think the worst part of breastfeeding my first was the confusion and frustration of not knowing how to do it. I thought breastfeeding would be so natural, that my baby would just latch on and my body would automatically produce enough milk for her. I was wrong on both counts. Babies have no idea how to do anything but suck, poop and cry and sometimes they even struggle with those few things. They will latch on to almost anything, as evidenced by this picture of my husband teasing our firstborn. He was surprised by how strong the suction was from such a little mouth.

And they want to suck all the time! I think Hazel was rooting day and night for the first few weeks of her life. She was always hungry! I used to cry right along with her when she woke up because I knew she was hungry and I was going to have to try to get her to latch on again. Now, I had read all the books and talked to the lactation consultant and they all said breastfeeding shouldn't hurt if you are doing it right. Talk to any mom and she'll tell you the truth, it sucks, literally. My mom told me about when she went to see her big sister, my aunt, in the hospital after she had her third baby. She said she could hear my Aunt Malinda yelling in pain as soon as she stepped off the elevator on the maternity unit. She was surprised to find her sister writhing in pain as she tried to nurse her newborn. My mom was reaching the end of her own pregnancy and was scared to death. 

So breastfeeding is really, really painful. 

But it doesn't stay that way. Women's bodies do miraculous things, as evidenced by pregnancy, and something magically happens after about 2 months of nursing, it doesn't hurt anymore. There's probably some science to it but I have no idea what it is, all I know is it stops hurting and becomes second nature quickly. So I think if you can survive the first 2 months, 8 tortuously long weeks, then breastfeeding seems to get much easier and actually be preferable to bottle feeding. 

Besides being essentially free and universally safe for your baby, breastfeeding will help you lose weight. 

Now, my third pregnancy was different for many reasons, I gained twice as much weight this time. I was so sick while pregnant with the girls that I only gained 26 and 28 lbs respectively. Also, because I finally saw a psychiatrist after my second bout of postpartum depression, I was on a slew of drugs during my third pregnancy which made me crave carbs incessantly and retain water. After I had the girls, my pregnancy weight essentially melted away just from nursing and going for walks with friends. Not so after the boy. I can now say I have lost 10 lbs since Hyrum was born but that's after 2 months of CrossFit and slowly cutting back on my medications. Because of the heavy doses of medication I was on when I found out I was pregnant, my Dr. warned me I should not breastfeed. At first I felt a little guilty, I even considered going off my medication completely just so I could breastfeed the little guy. I felt so incredibly selfish that I wouldn't be able to provide this great thing for my baby because I was unwell. I thought maybe I could just exercise a lot and eat really well and maybe I didn't need all that medication. I even saw a chiropractor who encouraged me to stop my medication cold turkey. But my husband warned me that breastfeeding my baby wasn't worth risking my life and that it wasn't fair to him and the girls for me to jeopardize my health by going off my medication without my Dr.'s consent. So I resigned myself to bottle feeding my little man and the more I thought about it, the better bottle feeding seemed. Minus the inconvenience of making up a bottle at night, which I solved by buying a nice bottle warmer that kept bottles cool until it was time to feed the baby, then I could safely warm them in a steam bath. So I've been bottle feeding Hyrum for 6 months now and I absolutely LOVE IT! It is amazing! I wish I had bottle fed my other kids that is, unless the girls turn out to be brilliant and Hyrum's just normal, I don't know, it still might be worth it. I cannot believe how much easier it is to bottle feed. Hyrum slept longer than my girls ever did, going 5 hours by the time he was only 1 month old, he gained weight faster whereas my girls were both "failure to thrive." (terrible words for a new mom to hear). And the best part was how much help I could get. It wasn't all up to me to feed this new baby, anybody could do it. I had the help of my husband and my parents, my sisters and many of my friends, it was so much easier than my first two babies. Now, I know bottle feeding wasn't the only reason I haven't lost much weight yet and baby number 3 is probably easier for most moms but I really want to encourage moms to let go of guilt over not being good enough, not doing enough or being everything for their kids. Something baby number 3 has taught me is that there are a lot of ways to feed a baby and getting support makes everyone happier. So long story short, don't be afraid to hand over your little one to someone with a bottle and get some rest once in a awhile.

You are not alone

When I had Hazel, I had so many doubts. Doubts about myself as a mother, my ability to do the right thing, my efforts to care for this vulnerable little person. My doubts were ever present but not always at the forefront of my thoughts. It was like having an old, hideously ugly great aunt staying with me. I didn't want to interact with her or really even look her way but I had to, she's a part of my family and therefore a part of me. And sometimes she was so demanding! Right in my face, all warty and wrinkly with foul smelling breath. She would block out everything else, all other thoughts, desires, actions. I would be completely consumed by her presence. But sometimes I could keep her in my peripheral vision, just on the outskirts of my awareness. And I would think, "This isn't so bad, I can handle this." As long as I didn't look at her, I could almost forget she was there. But late at night or after a day filled with crying, pooping and isolation, she would be right in my face again, haunting me with racing thoughts and dark feelings.
If you have struggled with this, even if you don't struggle all the time, I'm here to tell you two things: you are not alone and there is help for you. 
Before I had kids, I had no idea how taxing a newborn could be. I'd never been so sleep deprived, so stretched to my limits and so worried. I would see other moms taking care of numerous children and think I was inferior in some way because one baby was so hard for me. In America we value independence almost above all else and sometimes it can be to our detriment. I'm realizing now that it really does take a village to raise a child. I cannot possibly be everything for my kids, they need other responsible adults in their lives in order to grow up and be well adjusted people. I have loved living by family, it has eased some of the immense burden of child rearing. If you don't live by your family, I suggest you build a network of friends who can love and support you and your children. We really do need each other. Tim always says economies of scale work well with child care. Also, don't forget you have a loving Heavenly Father who is rooting for you and will send angels down to buoy you up. (Motherhood: An Eternal Partnership with God.) I remember a talk by Elder Holland in which he said "Christ knows better than all others that the trials of life can be very deep and we are not shallow people if we struggle with them." (An High Priest of Good Things to Come, Elder Holland, October 1999) He is there for you always, pray to Him for help and He will not let you down.
In regards to getting help, you have to ask. Nobody can read your thoughts (you probably wouldn't want them to anyway) and you can seem surprisingly put together even when you're coming apart at the seams inside. You aren't doing anybody any favors by pretending you're fine when you're really struggling. So be honest when people ask you how you're doing. Say things like "I'm not getting any sleep and nursing is so painful." I've been surprised how empathetic and helpful people can be when they know you're suffering. When people offer to help you, tell them what they can do. I used to hate it when people would say "Call me if you need anything." Because I didn't think they really meant it. Well, most of the time they really do want you to call, they may want to help but aren't sure how. Don't feel like you're putting anybody out by asking someone to come over and hold your baby while you shower or take a nap or get out of the house. People love babies, especially other people's babies. And don't worry that something will go wrong, most women have raised children to adulthood with little to no tragedies. Your baby will not stop breathing the minute you leave the house, she probably won't even notice you are gone. Plan breaks when you are doing well. I'm terrible at this. I wait until I can't stand one more minute of crying, pulling, demanding baby behavior and then I try to call someone. It's incredibly frustrating when you're so frazzled and you can't get a hold of anybody to come help you. So plan to take time for yourself before you're at your wits end. If you have more than one kid, farm them out to several people. They'll love playing with friends and you'll be a better mom because of the break. And don't worry about not being able to reciprocate child care. I felt guilty about this for months. I didn't want to trade with any of my friends because I was having a hard enough time with my own children, let alone adding some one else's kids in the mix. Also, I didn't trust myself with other people's kids, I wouldn't want someone struggling with postpartum depression to watch my kids so I got comfortable being on the receiving end of service. I know my turn will come again to be on the giving end of service but for now, I need a lot of help.
I hope you can benefit from my insights, experiences and testimony of Jesus Christ. I love reading your comments and feeling your support. Thanks for reading my thoughts.
PS- I just found this Ted Talk that speaks volumes about depression. It's by a teenager named Kevin Breel and it's entitled Confessions of a Depressed Comic.

Well

I am doing well. So well in fact I've started to wonder if I might be able to have even more kids. But then reality sets in, Emma poops on the floor or Hazel pulls Hyrum out of his bassinet and plops him on the floor, and all I can say is I'm happy we all survived today! But I do want to give hope to all of you who have struggled with postpartum depression or just struggled to be a good mom. It gets easier. Or maybe we just get better at this mom thing.
With my first baby, my depression came on quickly and was very intense. I had thoughts of hurting myself and disturbing images and ideas about hurting my baby. I didn't trust myself to be alone with her and I couldn't stop crying. All this was quickly remedied by a visit to my OB. She sympathetically listened to me describe my psychosis and promptly prescribed an antidepressant, Sertraline (Zoloft). She reassured me that postpartum depression is very common and very treatable and it does not mean I don't love my baby or I won't be a good mom. I kept in close contact with her over the next few months and upped my dose once or twice. When we found out we were pregnant again, I was ecstatic! I doted on my sweet baby girl so much, I couldn't believe I was lucky enough to have another adorable baby to love. My pregnancy and delivery were a breeze and all was well until she was about 3 months old. Then I started to collapse. My husband was traveling for work, my hormones were a mess and I had two babies to care for. Another trip to my OB and more Sertraline helped stabilize me. I also started seeing a therapist which was immensely helpful. I highly recommend therapy, I have really enjoyed having someone who I'm not worried about damaging our relationship, she already knows I'm kinda crazy so no worries there, and an outside perspective is so reassuring. Therapy is very expensive so if you don't have insurance or not very good insurance, I suggest finding a very understanding and very forgiving friend who will listen to and keep all your secrets, it is so cathartic. After another relapse in December, I went down to Utah to stay with my parents for a few months. Buspar, an anti-anxiety medication prescribed by my OB helped keep me calm and quelled some of my paranoia. I also started taking more Sertraline. I finally saw a psychiatrist in Billings who diagnosed me with Bipolar Type II as well as postpartum depression and prescribed Risperidone, an anti-psychotic. I was finally able to sleep for more than 2 hours at a time, what a relief! When we moved to Utah I had to find a new psychiatrist which was a monumental task and a new therapist which was tricky but doable. I'll post again about that process because it can be daunting.
Sorry for so much back story but I really want to be transparent about where I've been and what has helped me through this whirlwind.
I was so very nervous that I would be right back where I started and that there was nothing I could do about it. But I'm here to tell you there's so much you can do! After my third baby I only had a few sad days where I was on the verge of tears for hours or couldn't find the energy to get out of my robe. I think I just experienced the "baby blues" that most moms have after giving birth. Don't get me wrong, the first 8 weeks were really rough but rough as in "I'm so tired I feel sick to my stomach" rough not "I want to kill myself" rough.
So here are some things that helped me:
Medication--don't be afraid of it, if you had high blood pressure you would take medication for it. Depression is a chemical imbalance in your brain that medication can correct. Taking medication can actually help your brain to heal itself.
Exercise--I cannot tell you how much moving, especially outside, has helped elevate my mood and increase my confidence. I'm currently trying out CrossFit with my hubby but I also enjoy Zumba, swimming, riding my bike, jumping on the tramp and just taking my kids for walks around the neighborhood.
The Gospel--I know Jesus Christ is our savior, that he suffered not only for our sins but also our hardships so he can perfectly relate, understand, and heal us. I've received many powerful priesthood blessings from my husband and my stepdad. I study the gospel everyday, without fail, no matter how tired or busy I am because I NEED it so desperately. I need to feel the Holy Ghost and I need to feel God's love everyday.
Support--I have had so much help from my parents, my siblings, my husband, my ward and my friends. Do not underestimate people, they can be so uplifting and encouraging and reassuring if they know you're having a hard time. I am lucky enough to be living with my parents right now, in the ward I grew up in, so I've had past girls camp leaders, young women leaders, and neighbors reach out to me and offer babysitting, meals,visits, and endless encouragement. No one expects you to do this alone. Realize when you need help and ask for it.
So, I'm doing well. My kids still stay in their pajamas most the time and I'm still packing too much pregnancy weight but I'm doing well.

happiness

When depression overwhelms me, I want to fling the feelings away, splatter droplets of sorrow all around me. Melancholy pours out of me like a river damned only by the passing of time. I'm frightened of drowning in the deluge and think to warn others to seek higher ground before they are inundated with the seemingly endless flow of sadness that surrounds me.
But when I find happiness I want to hold it close, savoring the feeling, breathing it in, embracing the joy, wrapping myself in warmth and light. I relish the sensation and roll around in it, bliss soothing my battered soul.
Ebbing and flowing, my emotions are changing. The darkness is no longer so menacing, tamed by prescription drugs, therapy and love. The light is more powerful and pervasive, my strength and self-confidence blossoming in the warmth of loved ones.
I thank  you for your supportive comments. I cherish your words of praise and encouragement. I am writing a memoir but it will remain a skeleton until my time is my own again. I am so grateful to those who have offered words of comfort and cheer. I hope my fight offers insight, fosters understanding and compassion for all who read it. I am delighted that I seem to be emerging from the storm. I don't know if it will rage again after Hyrum arrives, but if it does I will weather it one final time with courage and support from those around me.

My Story

My dear friend Sophia Fogt has a blog dedicated to understanding and treating postpartum depression and anxiety. She has great ideas and relates her story very well. She asked if I would do a guest post on her blog telling of my struggles with postpartum depression. I gladly obliged, this is the link to her blog.

path to the light

ps-sorry for the typos, it was written in a rush of emotions

bare naked

Sometimes people see me naked. Not in the just- got-out-of-the-shower-way; in the emotionally raw, intensely intimate way. Need strips away my inhibitions and I am left open, real and vulnerable. Social politeness is cast aside and I am exposed; my fears, my dreams, my feelings all laid out for everyone to see. I hope I am with people who know me well enough to realize this isn't how I always am, a tangle of emotions, fears and all-encompassing sadness. Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am balanced and brave and in control. But often my thoughts run away with me and I am taken for a dangerous and scary ride. Who knows why these emotional storms beset me? Why I become languid, heavyhearted and weighed down by the sorrow? I don't. I don't know why. I can't figure it out but I can fight it. I fight against the tidal wave of sadness with everything I've got. Throwing medicine, supplements, therapy, doctors, family and friends at the rising swell of depression that threatens to engulf me. Elder Holland's General Conference address a few weeks ago has been a lifeline for me. Tossed out by a loving Heavenly Father. http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/10/like-a-broken-vessel?lang=eng  Family and friends encourage me that I won't always be this way. My children will grow and flourish and one day will barely need me at all. My hormones will stabilize, my body won't be so wracked with this disease. But for now I hang on, I cling to the hope of a better day.