My Postpartum Depression Story – The Biggest Mistake of My Life

Jan 20, 2015 by

(My story …continued)

1month

Like all forms of depression, there are varying degrees of postpartum depression. It can fluctuate from of a mild case of the “baby blues” to a crippling case of serious depression, or a million situations in between.  To be honest, I don’t know where my case fell on that spectrum as it’s difficult to objectively diagnose one’s self.   I can tell you this: I never wanted to physically hurt my baby or myself.  But I did regret having a baby.  I felt no connection to him.  Only regret.  And hopelessness. I made the biggest mistake of my life and there was no way out.  I wanted someone to take my baby away and take care of him.

When I got home from the hospital, I was still physically a mess.  But that was nothing compared to the paralyzing fear I had of this tiny little person.

Motherhood: the Good, the Gross, and Everything in Between

Jan 6, 2015 by

Last night I was in full-blown Super Mom mode, multi-tasking like a pro.  Seriously, you should have seen me: feeding the baby, playing with my three-year old, changing diapers, preparing clothes and food for the next day, all while cooking a New Year’s resolution-inspired healthy dinner for Hub and me.  Then in a second it all changed.

 The baby started crying, I picked him up and…

 Explosive diarrhea.  Projectile vomit.  EVERYWHERE.

I stood there in shock for a moment, dripping from head to toe in puke (not even an exaggeration; I have never seen so much bodily fluid come out of someone so tiny).  I looked down at him and he looked up at me.  He looked so scared, so I just held him to my chest as he grasped my soaked shirt.  I held him tight, kissed his wet hair and sticky cheek and promised him he was alright.  Mommy’s here, everything is ok baby.  In that brief, vomit-drenched moment, making him feel safe was all that mattered.  Shhh my baby boy, I got you….shhh.

Worry about your OWN SELF! (My 2015 Resolution)

Dec 17, 2014 by

It’s that time of year. The holidays are just around the corner, and after that comes the promises. “This year, I’ll work out more!” “I will job hunt to make the money I deserve!” “I’ll go back to school and further my education!” or maybe just “This year, I will be healthier.” My resolution is a simple one that I hope can inspire many of you to follow suit (to be fair, I stole the wording from my three-year-old):

“This year, I will worry about my OWN SELF* for once.”

Life is a marathon, not a sprint!

Oct 7, 2014 by

“It’s a marathon, not a sprint”, is my comment when asked how my day is going. This has become a theme running through my life lately. I’ve only been cleared to run for the past six weeks, so I’m not referring to my exercise routine. Let me explain what I mean. I have a new job, my dream job really, and developing a new program is both exciting and tedious. I can clearly envision the end goal, but it simply takes time and a lot of determination to develop ‘something new’.

My health needs have become a necessary and ongoing focus in my life. In my twenties I could care less about yearly check ups or the quality of the food I ate. Now that I have a family that depends on me daily for basic needs, love and support, I have to care about myself in ways I never imagine. After we committed our family to one month of ‘clean’ eating, I discovered that I am the person with the most food allergies. Go figure! I now research dairy-free, nut-free, and soy-free organic recipes. I often cook two hours before going to work, after an hour at the gym. So I realize my health is not a short-term fix, it’s a long-term commitment.

“I found a lump…”

Sep 16, 2014 by

images[5]This past week I had a minor health scare. “I found a lump…” I repeated to my wife, my mother and the receptionist answering the phone at my doctor’s office. After a previously scheduled visit for other health related concerns, I had an order for more tests.

“I found a lump.” I explained to my new boss because I needed to reschedule our meeting. “This is perhaps one of the few reasons I would reschedule!” Her response was everything a woman wants to hear. “Of course it is! How are you doing?”

I texted my brother. It’s rather convenient to have a doctor in the family who researches cancer and can read those mysterious test results.

Me: Is it okay to have test results sent to you?

Brother: Do you have a lump?

Me: Yes.

As we texted back and forth, he reminded me that there are a number of false positives and not to worry. I was comforted, but I still worried.

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