PPD: It’s Hit Me Like a Brick Wall

I thought I was doing really good, and perhaps even out of the clear. Then this past week happened. Bam! PPD has come along and slapped me silly in the face. PPD, for those of you who may not know, is Post Partum Depression, and it affects 15-20% of mothers, first time or otherwise.
Here’s some quick info from http://postpartum.net:

Symptoms can start anytime during pregnancy or the first year postpartum. They differ for everyone, and might include the following:

• Feelings of anger or irritability
• Lack of interest in the baby
• Appetite and sleep disturbance
• Crying and sadness
• Feelings of guilt, shame or hopelessness
• Loss of interest, joy or pleasure in things you used to enjoy
• Possible thoughts of harming the baby or yourself

Check, check, and check. To all of the above.

So, much to my disappointment, my blog couldn’t be filled with funny anecdotes about the adventures I face as a new mommy. I have even considered not sharing this, and to lead everyone on to believe that everything is ok and being a mom is awesome. However, this would not be keeping true to the main goal of this blog. I want to share all my experiences, good, bad and ugly. And trust me, this past week has been extremely ugly.

I’m feeling pretty calm right now, and am able to reflect on the past few days without too much emotion. I think I cried enough yesterday for a week. I feel drained. Emotionally, mentally, physically.

PPD may have been creeping up to me for awhile now, but I believe it’s the attempt to do sleep training to get Nikolas to nap has pushed me over the edge. As frustrating as it is that he doesn’t like to nap and he’s crabby all day long because he’s tired, the sleep training has been 100% times worse and extremely stressful. It’s when I attempt the method of putting him down when he’s first showing signs of tiredness, that he pulls out his big boy lungs and goes to town on the screaming. I used to think it was cute when I’d say “he has his mother’s lungs”. It’s not so cute anymore. Not at all. Nikolas screams so loud, I can’t bear to be around him without earplugs. It is a blood-curtling, someone-is-killing-me-in-here kind of scream. I’m scared the neighbours think I’m hurting my baby.

As the days have gone on and on, he’s not falling asleep any quicker than the “experts” indicate that he should be. It’s a minimum of 30 minutes of SCREAMING. Then if we’re both lucky, he’ll fall into a light nap for anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes. I’ve found myself liking him less and less during these episodes and as he is screaming in his crib, you could find me either on the stairs crying, or down in the basement screaming into a pillow. I just wish he would SHUT UP and GO TO SLEEP.

So, to go back to the symptoms of PPD, I have all the bases covered:

Feelings of anger or irritability: Extreme anger AND irritability. I’ll freak out on anyone these days. Usually it’s some poor unexpecting stranger out in public who may have blinked wrong at me. Or some poor employee at the grocery store who wants to touch my baby just as he has fallen asleep after an hour of screaming while I shopped. Or my poor husband who just can’t seem to do anything right these days.

Lack of interest in the baby: Maybe more like a lack of liking my baby. I haven’t been enjoying his company. In fact, I pretty much dread facing every day that I have to spend with him. And resentful of my husband who gets to leave for work everyday and do grown up, non-baby things.

Appetite and sleep disturbance: I’m hardly eating anymore. I’m just finding I don’t have the time. Everyone else’s needs come before mine, and it’s usually in the evenings when I realize that all I’ve eaten on any given day is a bowl of cereal.

Sleep disturbance: Ha! I learned a new word this week, it’s called momsomnia. I’m constantly lying in bed, anxious about going to sleep. Because I know that just as I’m nodding off, the baby will need me. Or after I feed him in the middle of the night, I lay in bed for up to 2 hours trying to get back to sleep. My mind will be racing from thought to thought. Everything from how bad of a mother I am to how we’re going to manage when I have to go back to work.

Crying and sadness: Not much to say here except a big, fat YES. Usually during these times I fantasize about running away. I’ve even mentioned it to my husband. Now he’s scared I'll actually do it.

Feelings of guilt, shame or hopelessness: Guilt with a capital G. I’ll think or say something horrible about how I don’t like my baby, or how much my life sucks and what the hell was I thinking wanting to have kids. That I’m now just a shell of my former self, and I don’t even want to hang out with kid-less friends, because I can talk about is the damn baby. It’s consumed my life. Then, I see my baby smile at me, and how could I have just thought or said these things, when HE’S JUST A BABY and I’m the best mom he has. I feel like shit several times a day. I really don’t feel like I’m built for motherhood. I don’t feel like I have enough love.

Loss of interest, joy or pleasure in things you used to enjoy: I can barely remember the things I used to enjoy. It's not about me anymore. Yes, I am selfish and resentful.

Possible thoughts of harming the baby or yourself: No, there are no suicidal thoughts, or anything I’d act on. But I do wonder what life would be like again if ‘this problem’ would just go away and we could go back to our old life.

So, onto the positives:

1.I have a good support system around me. I have a very concerned husband and mom. She even called in sick to work yesterday to come up here and spend some time.

2.I know what resources are out there to help me. I’ve made contact with the local health unit here and have spoken to a nurse about the situation. They take PPD VERY seriously. I have an appointment with my Dr. on Tuesday, and she will give me a prescription for antidepressants. I’m very hesitant to take drugs for this, as I have a history of depression and it took alot of will power to get off the drugs so that I could plan to get pregnant. I’ve been informed the drugs used for PPD are of a different family and that they will quickly make a difference. And I'm being strongly encouraged to take them.

3.I’m also being connected with a PPD counsellor as well as support groups in the area.

4.While I was still pregnant, I volunteered to take part in a study of PPD through the University of Alberta. Because I have a personal and family history of depression, it’s something that I’ve been very aware of and knew that I had a very good chance of developing PPD. The study involved bi-weekly interviews and MRI scans up until 13 weeks post partum to measure levels of chemicals in my brain. Unfortunate for the study, I did not develop any symptoms in the first 13 weeks after Nikolas was born. But they do follow up interviews and will also provide me with more resources to help me get through this.

I’m going to use all the available resources to recover from this, as it is temporary, and I want to be the best mother I can be for my baby. At this point, our family plan of having 2 kids is on the back burner. I just don’t feel like I want to go through this whole baby thing again. I don’t know how people go on to have more than one child, and put themselves through this over and over again. It really is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. And the emotional development of my baby is on the line. I’m going to take life one day at a time take any offers of help as they come along.

Frazzled Parents Say the Darndest Things

*Warning: This post contains graphic language*


I freaked out on a stranger today. Big. Bad. Freak. Out. I thought I’d share the story; maybe it can generate a laugh.

Today I drove to down town Edmonton with Nikolas in tow to get his passport application submitted. I was prepared for a long wait in the passport office, so I went prepared with plenty of diapers, bottles and toys. We actually only spent about ½ hour waiting in line to get to the passport desk, and because I had filled out the form electronically, we were free to go after the initial screening. I was amazed! That part was too easy.

So, after feeding, changing and walking Nikolas around a little bit, we walked to the parkade where the truck was parked. He was starting to get tired and pretty cranky. By the time I got him, his diaper bag, his stroller, and my stuff loaded into the truck, he was full on into screaming mode. Let me make a side note that lately when he screams, I usually jam ear plugs in to save my hearing and my sanity. Unfortunately, it’s not very safe to drive with ear plugs. So, as we were driving towards the exit, I had some Black Sabbath blasting on the stereo just to drown out the screaming. All I needed to do was pay, get out, and get moving for him to quiet down and go to sleep. It’s all I needed to do at that moment.

As I pull up to the booth to pay the attendant, I automatically pull out the parking ticket and my credit card. I was ready to pay and get the hell out of there. Over the crying and screaming, here is how our conversation went:

Attendant: “sorry ma’am, we only take cash”.

Me: “Are you fucking kidding me!?!?” From here you can assume I don’t carry cash. This is a cashless society. Everywhere I go, I expect to be able to pay with debit or credit cards. Note that Nikolas is still screaming his face off.

Attendant: “Ok ma’am, you need to calm down. There is no need to swear at me. There are clearly marked signs throughout the parkade stating that we only accept cash.”

Me: “I did not see even one sign. My ticket doesn’t say anything on it. So where can I find an ATM?”

Attendant pointing in the directions of the closest ATM’s: “There is one this way and one that way”.

Me: “So how do I get there?” I had to ask this, because in front of me was a barricade. Behind me was a number of vehicles waiting for me to pay so they could leave. There was nowhere for me to go. I couldn’t turn around, I couldn’t back up.

Attendant: “Like I said, there is one that way, and one over.....”

Me: “I KNOW where the ATM’s are. HOW DO I GET THERE?????”

Attendant: “Please calm down ma’am. I’m trying to tell you where they are, but you keep cutting me off.”

Me (Slamming the truck into park, taking my keys out of the ignition and getting out): “Oh, ok. I’ll just leave my vehicle here, you can watch my baby and I’ll go get some cash!” (This was all extremely sarcastic and I’m sure my face was purple I was so mad. And Nikolas was still SCREAMING.)

Attendant (smirking): “No, I will not babysit for you. You can bring your child with you.”

Me (Now yelling): “How do you expect me to do that!! I am stuck here, I can’t go forward or backward......and can’t you hear what I’m dealing with here!!!! (pointing to the backseat. As if I have to point out what’s going on back there) Just tell me how to get to the ATM!”

Attendant: “Oh, that’s easy. I’ll just tell the vehicles behind you to back up. Then you can back out.”

Fuck, really???? That’s ALL I wanted to know. HOW TO MOVE MY TRUCK. He took that long to tell me he’d get the cars behind me to back up. I’m sure he was taking pleasure in the absolute hell I was going through.

So, after half a dozen cars behind me all had to back up to make room, I was able to make my way out and back into the parking lot and around to where I needed to park to walk to the closest ATM. I park the truck, gather up my purse, get the stroller out and ready to go, open the back door to get Nikolas out.......and somehow in the extremely short drive from the ticket booth to the parking spot, the little bugger FELL ASLEEP. Words cannot even explain how mad/embarrassed I was at the entire situation.

So, I make the short trek up to the nearest hotel lobby, get the cash and make my way back to the truck. Nikolas is still sleeping. By now, I’ve had a few minutes to calm down and am extremely embarrassed by my behaviour. I figure I’ll go out the exit on a different level of the parkade so I can avoid seeing that dude again. I get back in the truck and we start to make our way to the other exit so I don’t have to face him.

No luck.

I get to the exit and there is a big sign saying it’s closed. There is only one other option. Tuck my tail between my legs and go back to the original exit.

I pull up to the window and have my parking ticket with a $20 bill in hand. I hand it over and say nothing.

Attendant: “Thank you. And I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Me: “Sorry for swearing at you.”

Attendant: “Apology accepted.”

Me: “Do you have kids? You’d understand.”

Attendant: “No, but I could feel your pain. Have a nice day.”

And so we were finally able to leave the parkade from hell. The weird thing is that any time I park downtown, I use that parkade. Always. I never go anywhere else. I don’t remember them taking cash only.
 
I honestly don’t.

Money Matters

I’m not due to go back to work until September, and already, I’m stressed out about what I’m going to do. I informed Matt well before we got pregnant that once we had children, I’d be “retiring” from my career in I.T. Having children was a way out for me. Yes, the money in I.T is great, but I HATE the jobs I’ve gotten in the field and really wish I had chosen a career that I was passionate about. I got into I.T because I happened to be good with computers and excelled at any related classes I took. Too bad I dreaded going to work every day and spent the majority of my time watching the clock.

So, during my pregnancy, every time a co-worker asked if I was coming back to work after maternity leave, I’d plaster a fake smile on my face and say “that’s the plan”, while in my head I was thinking “no way in hell”.
Now here I am almost 5 months into my maternity leave and I’m trying to make plans for what I’m going to do come September. The reason why I’m stressing out so early is for a few reasons:

1. There is a long wait list for child care in the town I live in. I’ve heard you can be on the list for over a year. I need to get on this list, but I need to be able to tell them if I require full or part time child care.
    
2. I need to inform my employer that I’m resigning from the position they’ve been holding for me (and keep telling me that they need me back badly) and request a part time position in a different department, doing something completely unrelated to I.T. The company I work for is great and many employees have been there 10+ years. That says alot about the owners and how they treat people. I’m really hoping that we can work something out so I can be able to work 3 days a week and still be making enough money to survive (i.e. make mortgage payments)
    
3. Going back to work and being away from my baby has to be worth it. If I’m going to work just to pay for child care, then it’s not worth it.

It’s been a tough adjustment living on about 40% of my income and adding a new body to our household. I really used to take for granted that we had disposable income and could go out at any time and treat ourselves to a new outfit, a weekend away, or even a hair cut without worrying about how much money we needed to get to the next paycheque. Now, I scour flyers for coupons and sales on diapers, formula, and even toilet paper. Tonight I just got my first hair cut in 6 months, and I didn’t even go to a salon; I found a lady in town who runs her own salon out of her basement. I’ve always told Matt that he was lucky I’m so frugal. I was pretty proud to tell him that I got a haircut for $25, including tip.

I buy a lot of Nikolas’s clothing and gear used through consignment stores and private sellers on Facebook. We really only bought stuff brand new where safety deemed it necessary: crib, stroller, car seat, etc. I drive less and try not to go into the city as often to save on gas, and to put off the next $100 oil change in my vehicle that we bought using a line of credit that we’re not making payments on right now. Instead of going to the gym, I’m making use of my elliptical machine, bike and hand weights that have sat unused in my basement. I buy gas at Superstore so I can use the “superbucks” I’ve earned at the affiliated grocery store to save money on groceries (baby formula). I have cut way back on my spending, but it just doesn’t feel like it’s enough. We’re unable to make RRSP contributions or pay down debt. (Yes, I still have student loans from the college diploma I received to get a job that I hate)

Maybe I am too much of a worrier, but I think there is a good reason. I grew up poor. Raised by my divorced parents, I lived with both my mom and dad at separate times, and they struggled really hard just to get food on the table. I know they did the best they could, but I don’t ever want my children to have to know what it’s like to have to get handouts from the food bank, or to be pulled from sports or be unable to pursue a interest because we can’t afford it.

I’ve been trying to come up with different ideas for ways I can make money and be home with my children:

• I’ve signed up to sell Avon. This will take awhile to start making money at, as I have to build my customer base. Not sure how viable this is, but I’m loving the discounts I get.
• I’d like to be able to get crafty and sell items on www.etsy.com or at a local farmer’s market. I’m attending a workshop in May for learning how to do mosaics. It’s something I’ve wanted to get into for awhile now, but just never got around to it. 
• In a few years I may consider running a day home. At this point in my life, I couldn’t do it. I hate staying home all day and if we’re going to eventually have another baby, I need to be able to earn another mat leave.

So, really, I’m not ranting, or bitching, I guess I just need to get my thoughts sorted out “on paper” and figure out how I can be with my baby as much as possible as well as make a financial contribution to our family. I’ve always been hesitant to be financially reliant on someone else, and I don’t think it’s fair to leave the burden on Matthew (at least until he makes a huge salary or wins the lottery). I guess time will tell; I just need to talk to more moms and find out what they do and how they manage. It really is hard being a woman sometimes; we tend to take on the whole world and try to be everything to everybody.