Friends & Family,
As you may or may not know, that I was not
here in late July and most of August. When I say HERE, I mean Heide Joy Fraley was not mentally on this planet. Kaput. La la land. In orbit. In bed. Unshowered. Crying. Sobbing. Wringing my hands. Rocking back and forth. Hyperventalating. Unable to do anything but sit and stare at a spot on the wall. Or the clock tick tick tick. If I was not sitting, I was pacing, or dry heaving. Looking at food made me nauseous.
I was suffering from an acute bout of Post Partum Depression. I think I am over it for the most part, but for while there my hormones did a number on me.
When Hazel was born in 2004, I definitely suffered from a couple weeks of the "Baby Blues," but my second time around was different. Not only did I have two babies this time, but they came ten weeks early and had to spend time in the NICU. One was home and one was still in the hospital. Winter was to come home with a apnea monitor that beeps all the time. I thought I had accepted the fact that my life will be VERY different with two more, but I had fooled myself. As time passed while they were in the NICU, my anxiety built and built trying to figure out how am I going to care for two newborns and a three your old. How would feeding work? What are the logistics of getting in and out of the minivan? How can I do simple things like pick up some groceries? How can I take Hazel into her school with two babies in the car with me? Can I survive the oncoming sleep deprivation? I started wishing I had a huge rewind button so I can go back to my old life.
I was pumping breastmilk every three hours around the clock from the time they were born. I had every intention of breastfeeding them when they came home. Then I realized that, as with Hazel, I was not producing enough for even one baby. I did everything I could to increase my production, including taking prescription medication, to no avail. Once Simone came home after 30 some days, I started to come to the conclusion that trying to breastfeed two babies, continue pumping (to keep production as high as possible), and supplement with formula was too daunting a task for me. The decision was made, I would stop breastfeeding and only formula feed. This way, Daniel, friends, and family can also help feed them. Plus, Winter was put in a special formula to help control is reflux. So after six weeks of giving them the liquid gold, I put my nursing bras and breast pump away in the closet. It was one of the happiest and saddest decisions I have made as a parent.
Now with the mix of post-partum hormones, the drop of hormones associated with breastfeeding, the increasing anxiety I felt with one baby home and one still in the hospital, my mind and body literally got sick.
My mom and the fabulous nurses in the NICU saw the signs and rallied around me. At Pennsylvania Hospital's NICU, I met with the most amazing social worker (I love you, Debbie!) who sat with me for what seemed like hours as I mentally imploded while holding Winter in my arms. She assured me over and over again that it will not last forever and to do the following things: make plans for family to take full care of Simone for the time being, get at least four nights of uninterrupted sleep, hire a nurse to do a couple overnights with Simone, get on anti-depression medication, make an appointment to see a therapist, and force myself to get sun (vitamin D) and take walks, even if its the last thing I feel like doing.
I felt better once I learned what I was experiencing was "classic" post-partum depression and that if I take action, I will feel a little better each day. The rub was that anti-depression medication takes two or three weeks to kick in. Sometimes up to six weeks. I started my daily countdown. No, I started counting the hours.
In the meantime, I was in email contact with a new friend I had made at the SJMOMs club (South Jersey Moms of Multiples). Lisa has two-year-old triplets and noticed the PPD signs I was experiencing
just by reading my email messages to her. She was the first one to help me realize I was not alone and that I should get on meds asap. Thank you, Lisa! She mentioned she had waited too long when having symptoms and regretted not taking action sooner.
While my mind checked out, Daniel and my mom took charge. I could not have managed without them. It was so comforting knowing I could lean on my mom for the slightest thing and everything would be ok. I could tell Daniel did not recognize his wife (I did not recognize myself!) but teamed up with my mom and my in-laws to make sure Simone and Hazel got the care they needed. Each evening I would see a glimpse of my normal self and we would sit at the dining room table and count our blessings that I had at least an hour or two of energy and normalcy. It was scary knowing that once my head hit the pillow, it would start all over again. Insomnia (another cruel joke!) and racing thoughts would fill my nights. I started to understand why some people turn to drugs to escape their life.
I wanted out. I wanted to escape my life. I felt like a prisoner in my own home. The future looked bleak stuck in the house with three kids and no adult interaction. I saw no pleasure in the new chapter of life that was dealt me. I remember I had read about a woman who suffered from PPD and she could not even look or care for her baby for a month. I was determined not to let myself get that bad. I knew that you could become suicidal, but luckily, I was not heading in that direction.
I finally found a therapist that specialized in PPD and also took my insurance (not an easy task). After an hour with her I felt much better. Many of the things she told me were things that Daniel had said or I already knew, but coming from an outsider, it really hit home. I asked her if my symptoms were normal. She said I had "text book" PPD. Whew! At least I was not alone and my diagnosis was "defined."
My second visit with her really helped me snap out of it more. We came to the realization that I needed to mourn the loss of my old life and embrace the new chapter in front of me. This fact I knew, but all along I was denying and rejecting the notion. Ok. There was no going back. Suck it up and embrace my new babies and family. I am a strong woman and I can do anything. Right?
So now I am 90% back to my old self and I feel a little like a surviver. Each day did get better and I do find pleasure in taking care of my beautiful and healthy children. I wake up each morning counting my blessings that each tick of the clock is not a living hell and that I actually want to get out of bed and get the day started. Praise the heavens.
Up until this week I did not think it was relevant to let everyone know what I am going through until I realized that part of the problem of PPD is the unecessary suffering some women go through because they do not take action to get care early on. One reason this happens is because PPD carries a social stigma along with it. Having a baby (or babies) is suppoed to be the most glorious time of your life. The media makes sure we feel this way. If its not easy and wonderful, then you must not be cut out for being a mother, right?
I decided to not contribute to the stigma of PPD and stay silent. Its a real syndrome and a cruel joke on the mind and body. Its debilitating. It happens at a time when your baby (or babies) need you most. Nature's cruel, cruel joke, I say.
I would like to thank everyone who supported me during my crisis, especially Daniel and my mom. Thank you to my in-laws Suzanne, Steve, Leon, and Rhonda for their unjudgemental support. Thanks to my dear friend, Danna, for delving into the depths of my rattled mind, helping me understand it was not really "me," for the walks, and luxurious bubble bath. Jess, thanks for your practical insight and neighborhood walks. There were so many other friends and family who jumped at the chance to offer support and kind words that I cannot thank everyone here on the blog, but you know who you are.
I do have one last thank you. Its for my dear daughter, Hazel. While I was trying to hide my tears from her when she was around, she did notice that I was not myself. She offered the most fabulous words of wisdom that really hit home. She had no idea that she was offering them at the time, but somehow she said the right things at the right time. She was my rock, a constant in my daily life. I knew what to expect from her and I was able to experience a piece of my original self when she was a around. Thank you, Sugar Plum.
