I'm happy. I'm sad. And "that's okay."

I've spent a lot of hours and a lot of hundreds of dollars talking about my brain.  I wont bore you with much of that, but it's a strange one and sometimes a hard one to live with. 

One of the most basic points that my counselor helped me understand and learn to be okay with was that it's okay/possible and even normal to be happy and sad at the same time.  It's pretty basic and elementary really, but wow it took some time (and still takes reminders). 

"My husband has a good job," I'd say.  "He loves me.  I don't have to work.  We have a nice place to live.  I have happy, healthy kids. I have no reason to be sad." 

My counselor would respond with good insight that I only half listened to because I was ready for my next round.

"My friend just lost another baby and I've never struggled with that.  I don't have a right to be sad that I'm so sick this pregnancy." 

"Another friend has a baby with cystic fibrosis.  I don't have a right to be sad that mine has to wear a helmet for 3 months." 

"I just met someone who's mom lives in Australia.  I can't be sad that mine seems so far away in Utah."

I had so many reasons why I was failing at happiness that my counselor had to really dumb it down for me. 

"Say we each have one of our kids in a car and we get in a car accident.  My kid breaks his back and has to have surgery and lots of physical therapy.  Your kid breaks his arm and needs a cast.  Do you not have the right to be sad because my kid's injury is worse than your kids?"

I'd gave the wrong answer and he'd get mad at me.  "You have every right to grieve and be sad!"  He did several scenarios before I finally started to say that it was okay to feel sad even if I 'should' feel happy.  We talked about death.  We talked about getting old.  We talked about losing babies.  We talked about losing spouses.  We talked about happy things that have sad parts.  We talked about sad things that have happy parts. We talked about doing things that make us happy while we work through things that make us sad.  We talked about things that make us happy and sad at the same time.  "I'm happy that I get a vacation with Paul.  But I'm sad about the vacation because I'll miss my kids."  The exact same thing making me happy AND sad.  Really basic stuff folks.  But there was an intense emotional battle going on in my brain and I needed help.  And I got help. 

I'm so happy to report that baby number three came with very little postpartum depression. I'm so thankful for that because the chances were good.  And my paper work of medical history at the hospital had a whole team of social workers checking up on me often before they let me take Charlie home.  I was scared for a while.  Wondering every morning for the first couple of months if 'this was the day I'd crash.'  We even joined a service and interviewed several nannies and contacted night nurses for information and pricing when Charlie was just a couple weeks old, just so that if I needed it, we'd be ready with options to hire help.  I had days here and there where I was ready to hire full-time help, but here we are 6 months later and I'm feeling really confident and happy as a mom.

Two weeks ago, about a week into preschool, I overheard a conversation between Garrett and Addie at the coffee table while I was cleaning the kitchen.  They were talking about preschool, just before we were leaving to drop Garrett off.

(conversation translation: my kids often say 'from' instead of 'because')

I typed this out in my phone as I was listening because it kind of made my jaw drop.

A:  Do you like preschool Garrett?
G: I love preschool.
A: I love preschool too.
G: You don't go to preschool.
A: No, I love YOUR preschool but I'm going to miss you. 
G: I love it too but I'm sad from I'm going to miss you.
A: That's okay.  I'm sad from I love you and I'm happy from you love preschool.
G: I'm happy too and I'm gonna hug you and mom and Charlie at preschool from I'm sad.
A: That's okay.                 

I started to cry as I listened, and I cried just now as I read it again and typed it.  Not even three and four years old yet, and they were teaching, and understanding that it's okay to be happy and sad. 

Addie is my "That's okay" kid.  If you don't have one, you should train one.  She calmly, happily, and matter-of-factly says, "That's okay" to just about every stressful or frustrating situation. 

"Oh Addieeeeee, you peed in your underwear!"  --That's okay, I can get another one underwear...with Nemo on it this time.

"DANG IT!  I forgot to grab the bench from our bedroom for our pictures."  --That's okay, maybe Bapa and Gaga have a tiny bench we can use.

"No guys, I didn't want all the markers, chalk, and crayons dumped on the carpet."  --That's okay, we can just use them and pick them up. 

And guess what?  We are at 100% success rate that everything she said was okay, ended up being okay. 

Garrett's picked up on it too, so I get a lot of reminders that "That's okay" even when, in the moment, I act like it might not be.  He even did it in reverse once with me and it was a good reminder that I need to do better at letting them know that it's okay to mess up.  Charlie got a hold of some of Garrett's flashcards and I was too exhausted to take them away.  Garrett found the three soggy ones a few minutes later and said, "oh no mom, what happened to my cards??"  "Umm, Charlie accidentally ate them, sorry pal, I'll buy you some more."  "That's okay" he said, without skipping a beat, "I have some more." 

I've always heard parents and teachers talk about how much adults learn from kids.  It's still amazing to me how young they are, how often I learn, and how important the lessons they teach me really are.   

(Full disclosure: This was written a couple weeks ago and Garrett's feelings about loving preschool have changed a bit this week. But that's life I guess. Always something new to work on.) 

The list on my phone...

I have a list on my phone of things I don't want to forget to mention at some point on my blog, mostly uninteresting stuff, but stuff I want to remember.  Instead of blogging about any of it though, the list just keeps growing.  So this may be my most random post to date, but it's everything on my list!

1.  It takes Garrett about a week to recover after being with my mom.  This last time was the worst one yet. He cries for Mimi.  He wants to call her all the time.  Putting him to bed is usually simple, but after Mimi leaves it's an emotional nightmare, and often I just have to let him cry himself to sleep.  As soon as he wakes up he asks for her.  And he tells me he's sad, just out of the blue.  His bottom lip quivers when I tell him it'll be a few weeks before we can see her again, and when he hears that, the poor little guys eyes well up and he fights back the tears.  When we do talk to her on the phone he won't say good-bye because he doesn't want it to end, so when I finally just give up and hang up he cries and cries...   "No!  Mimi, Mimi! No!  Bye, Bye! No! BYE!"  It kind of breaks my heart.  But the heartless side of me got a picture of the last hang up, ya know, for the memories.

2.  Addie loves her big brother.  If she gets up in the morning before him (which she usually does), she's grumpy and fussy until he's awake.  A few days ago she was driving me nuts.  She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't play, she was getting into everything she shouldn't, and when I stopped her she'd cry and cry.  I finally heard Garrett waking up as I was doing the dishes, so I said, "Lulu, should we see if Garrett's awake?!"  She was digging in the garbage when I asked, and she looked up with a big smile and said, "Yeah!" as she ran past me.  I didn't think she'd go to his room because all the lights were off and the further you go down the hall the darker it gets.  Especially into Garrett's room because he doesn't have windows.  But sure enough, a few seconds later I hear through the monitor, "Hi!  Hi, hi, hi!! HIIIIII!!!!"  Then quietly from Garrett, "Hi, Wu."

2a.  Now whenever Garrett isn't around she runs to his room.  We have to remember to but the security gate in the hall if he's napping because she'll go wake him up if she's bored.

2b.  When I go to get her from her crib she looks past me to see if Garrett is coming in behind me.  And on the days he is there, she gets so excited.  She jumps up and down and laughs and says Hi!  Hi-Hi-yiyiyiyi!!

2c.  I get frustrated when G doesn't share with her or he tries to push her away, but when I sit and watch them, I'd probably do the same thing sometimes...she does not leave him alone!

3.  I never revisited my depression crash from back in October.  Here's the really short version.  The meds made me happy, but it felt like fake/medicated happy.  I can't explain that, so I won't try.  I also hated the weight gain side effect.  That was making me more depressed than depression.  I quit them one day, cold turkey.  If you're on anti-depressants and thinking of stopping, wean off them under doctor supervision.  Don't just stop one day.  Wow.  The withdrawal side effects were like nothing I'd ever experienced, or could describe.  Blurred vision, dizziness, insomnia, anxiety, headaches.  And the worst one, brain tremors.  It was awful and so scary.  And looking back, I'm not sure how I parented for those 2 weeks.  It took about 3 weeks to fully get over the withdrawal, but for about two weeks I laid down a lot, kept the house kind of dark, and didn't drive.  But I'm ok now.  I never took the meds again and I'm not on anything now.  Just taking Cod Liver Oil (awesome stuff) and exercising more.  I always feel a little scared, like, what if a crash is right around the corner.  But I feel really aware of myself and my situation and I feel like I'm managing my hard times better.

4.  And speaking of anti-depressants, (you may want to skip over this one, but I want it for my records).  I nursed Addie exclusively for almost 5 months.  And pumped and froze milk like I was a lone cow responsible for feeding a small village.  I knew I wanted and needed medication, but I put it off as long as I could because nursing was important to me.  When I started the meds, I still nursed for a while, but I'd take them at night right after a feeding and then try and go as long as possible without nursing or pumping, hoping to get them out of my system or something.  My doctor said it was ok to nurse, but I was nervous.  There were too many uneasy things I'd heard her say running through my head, like, "They say if you have to take something, this one's the best while nursing." or "You should be ok to keep nursing."  or "There's not much research about nursing while on this medication, but it's probably the best one for it."  I finally had my friend call her step-mom who is a family practice doctor, just to get more of a personal opinion.  She used similar responses, but when asked if she would nurse while on it, she said, "probably not."  I quit nursing.  I beat myself up and put myself down for needing medication more than wanting my baby to have my milk.  But I know it's what I had to do at that time in my life for myself and my family.  I had enough good milk in my freezer to give Addie formula and breast milk until she was almost 11 months old.  It's a lot better than I did with Garrett, and it's all I could provide for her, and I finally feel ok about it.

5.  My nephew is just over 3 months old and he's still in the NICU.  He's getting stronger everyday, but it's been a really long and slow process.  He still has a bad day from time to time, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel.  They learned a couple of weeks ago that he had Pyloric Stenosis so he had to have a small surgery for that.  He had a pretty bad day right after, but is doing much better now.  He'll go home on oxygen, so right now feeding is the main thing keeping him there.  They started bottle feeding yesterday and he's doing awesome.  He's a little trooper and I'm so proud of him and impressed with my brother and sister in law.  This has been a long hard road for them, and will continue to be for a while.

5a.  Something cool about William's situation.  A few weeks ago they were meeting with a nurse or therapist at the hospital about his future at home plans, and it was mentioned that they typically refer babies in this situation to have some speech therapy and help with feeding at the Learning Center of St. George.  This made Taylor's day because he is THEE Speech Therapist at The Learning Center of St. George and during his schooling he specialized in feeding.  Good career choice!  He'll be able to help William so much on a daily basis, and he knows what he's doing and is really good at it!

6.  I don't think I mentioned much about my mom's trip, other than in my first 365 post.  We didn't do much, but it was great to have her here, and it went by so fast.  We went on walks, played at the park, went out to eat, and she did some sewing for me.  I'd purchased fabric for some little cushion seats for the kids that looked easy enough to make.  I'm so glad she did them for me!  I'm not there yet in my sewing skills,  The kids love them.

7.  The kids love the play kitchen I made them for Christmas.  I may do a more detailed post about how I did it, but not right now.  We spend a lot of time eating plastic eggs and tomatoes, and drinking nothing from our cups, and licking a lot of fake ice cream cones.  Garrett has a great imagination.  I often see him push his sleeves up to "wash his hands" and he always "dries" them off.  He also uses a hot pad to open the oven door.  It's so cute.  He loves to lay his apron and hand towel on the ground and iron them.  I think we'll have years of fun with this addition to our playroom.

8.  Addie thinks all animals make the monkey sound.  It's probably because monkeys are Garrett's favorite animal at the moment and that's the sound he makes the most.  It's so cute though, when there's a dog on TV, Addie bounces up and down and says, "oo, oo, ah, ah."  She does it when she picks up her bunny and even sometimes when she's playing with a doll.  It's too soon to correct her because I like it too much.  I think Addie will talk at a much younger age than Garrett.  I haven't mentioned much about his delayed speech because my brother has worked with him and no one thinks we need to worry.  Garrett has just in the past couple of weeks started to put words together, like, "Mom help please."  "Two more cars."  "Wu go nigh night."  He's still a boy of few words, but it changes everyday and Whites and Greenhalghs have often been late talkers so I'm not worried.  Addie often tries to repeat things she hears and she has a handful of pretty clear words already.  The older they get, the more I feel like they'll learn new things together...like maybe how to pee in the potty...

weekend with Auntie Mara

I mentioned yesterday that Mara booked a moral support flight last minute.  It couldn't have come at a better time.  Paul was going to Utah for 2 days for a meeting and we decided kind of last minute to add Addie to the flight so that Garrett and I could have some one on one time.  Life with only one kid is easy enough I suppose, but the hard days I was having leading up to it had me overwhelmed and worried.  Mara's trip was perfect timing. Not only was it great to have her here to talk late, go on walks, watch chick flicks, etc. But Garrett is in love with her, so she got to do a lot of the diaper changing, loading in the car, bath-time... He picked her, so I got a little break from the everyday and several times a day stuff.  And we had a great time!

We took him to The Aquarium of the Pacific.  He loved every bit of it!  It was the perfect outing.  And I wish you could all hear how he says 'fish'.  After we finished there, we walked around long beach and had some lunch.  When we left, Garrett was asleep in the car before we even made it to the freeway.  Then he slept for 3 more hours once we got home.  So much to see and it all just wore him out.

The next day we went shopping in Huntington Beach.  And that evening we went to a Pumpkin Patch.

And the rest of the time we hung out at home.  Cooked, played games, talked for hours.  And the night before Mara left, Paul was back and he stayed home with the kids so just she and I could go out.  It was such a fun weekend.  Thank you Auntie Mara for coming to California.  Garrett and I both needed it!  We love you!

This was the only picture I got from Paul and Addie's trip.  Looks like it was a party!

I think I'm ok. I think I'm going to be ok.

I started a post two weeks ago called 'Depression'.  It began with me saying how I kind of feel like I owe you, my couple of readers, an update on where I am.  Not because I owe you anything really, but because I opened the depression door to my life several months ago, and some may like to stay informed, and maybe even throw one up for me, ya know...a prayer.  Can you tell I don't like asking for help and I want to be the strong one who doesn't need anyone to pray for me??

I've decided to hold off on that post for now.  But I'll get to it in the coming weeks, because this one was a doozie.

I'd had a rough couple of days, and it was only getting worse.  Paul knew, my mom knew.  I didn't want them to know, but someone had to know.  It was obvious to Paul, and my mom knows everything.  I woke up a couple mornings after my spiral began, and I knew I needed some back up.  A couple people who would be willing to give up a day to listen to me cry and scream and say 'I give up' and send me inspirational thoughts and ideas, and pray for me.  My mom is great for this, but I needed these to be people who knew the non-family member side of me.  The ones who I could say words like 'Shit' to (or worse) as much as I wanted, and it would be welcomed and even encouraged.

I was still in bed, mad that the sun had in fact come up, and that I had to face the day, when I sent a group text to these two.

 Kate (top) Mara (bottom)

These are my best friends.  I still have a high school best friend, a roommate best friend, a college best friend, etc.  But at this adult/wife/parent time in my life, you're looking at 'em.  These two pulled through with flying colors.  I really don't have a lot of friends, but I've learned over the years that quality far outweighs quantity.  I love these ladies.  I don't know how I would have made it through that day and the days that followed, and the ones that are to come, without them.  Kate is in Salt Lake and Mara just moved from Reno to Atlanta, but they still managed to carry me through that day.  We spent the whole day on the phone, email and texts.  Kate is so good with words.  The whole day I was challenged and encouraged by her thoughts and ideas.  Mara never judges and will do anything at anytime for a friend.  Within two hours of my first text, Mara had booked a flight from Atlanta to LAX, all because she could tell that I needed a best friend by my side for a few days.  I can't thank them enough.

It's been just over two weeks since my 'crash'.  I'm finally starting to feel myself again.  Though, I don't really know what 'myself' feels like.  I won't say I see the light at the end of the tunnel, because I don't want to 'get' to the end of something, or be somewhere different necessarily, I'm just wanting where I am to be a little brighter. My depression and the postpartum hormone roller coaster have not been easy on me.  I remind myself often that life has changed a lot over the past three years.  Not to mention that it hasn't even been a year since my body finished making two people at super-human speed.  I'm doing ok.

Thanks for reading.

Me Update

I was going to combine this with the sleep update yesterday, but I wanted to bore you to death two days in a row.

I've been blaming my fatigue on Addison for 4.5 months now. I hate saying 'blame', but it's the only word I can think of. And while these two do a good job at wearing me out, I actually felt more busy when I just had Garrett. We were moving, I was painting and unpacking and decorating and cleaning our apartment, trying to learn my way around California, Garrett had 3 appointments a week, I was dealing with months of fridge, cable, air conditioner, electrical, shower head, internet problems... sounds lame, but for at least 2 months I felt like someone new was here 2 or 3 times a week to 'fix' and 're-fix' and build things. This was the first time that this whole side of the building was 'residential' and there was a lot to do to make it livable. Anyway, and I was pregnant.

So, while Addison isn't the solid sound sleeper that Garrett has been since he was just a few weeks old, (aside from a few rough teething nights), like I said yesterday, she's not as bad as I've made it sound in weeks past. The truth is *I* can't sleep through the night.

I know I'm not depressed because I'm tired. But I know I don't sleep well because I'm depressed.

I've been fighting an internal battle for months about nursing while on an anti-depressant. Literally, months. My doctor and Addison's pediatrician have both stepped in, and even had conversations with each other about me and postpartum depression. They know I've been in counselling, and they both feel that medication will really help me at this point.

My prescription sat filled at the pharmacy for 3 months before I finally gave in a few days ago.

These are some of my battle conversations (with myself).

I need to be here, 100% for my kids. But I'm scared of what the meds might do to my milk. What if my supply drops? What if Addison starts acting different? What if there's a long term side effect on her? Is it better to breastfeed and be really depressed, or bottle feed and be really happy? Or should I take them and keep nursing and stop worrying. If I don't take them now, and then start in a year, and they help, will I look back and wish I'd started sooner, and feel like my kids were without a totally present mom for a year? If I start them now, will I still beat myself up because I need meds to be 'normal'? Why can't I just look at how blessed I am and be HAPPY?! My kids deserve a better mom. I'll give it one more month, and then I'll start... I'll go get the pills, but I won't start until I have a really bad day... I spend so much time thinking about them, that it's obvious that I need them...

These aren't daily thoughts, and sometimes a week or so will go by without thinking about it, and I feel really good. But it happened often enough that I knew it was time to make a decision. And I knew what the decision needed to be. I've (mostly) gotten over all my fears.

I had a little realization this week that really helped me. My 27 year old brother has been diabetic for 16 years. He's insulin dependant. He's not 'normal' without insulin. Without it everyday, several times a day, he would die. Taking medication makes him normal.

It's easy for people who have never battled depression to say it's easy to fix, "just be happy". Oh how I wish it was that easy. I want to be happy. I want to stop fearing the dark cloud. I want to feel balanced and normal. And I need medication to make me feel that way. I know that's pretty elementary sounding, and I kind of suck at analogies, but it helped me.

I've been on it for 4 or 5 days now. 'They' say I won't see a change for 1-2 weeks, and maybe up to a month for the full effect. It made me feel sick the first day, but since then, nothings seemed different.

So I wait...

And just keep loving these yummy babies of mine. If I could have shopped for kids at a store full of a billion babies, I swear I would have picked these two. I love these kids. And they love me.

St. Patrick's Day

I was going to let this holiday slide by unnoticed. Friday was quite possibly one of the most randomly crappy days I've had in a very long time. No reason. Just crappy. So much so, that Paul took the day off at the last minute, just so I could work on getting out from under the dark cloud. By Friday evening I decided to try and think of something fun to do on Saturday to help me snap out of it. Paul had to work all weekend, so it was just me and the kids.

I'd pinned a few ideas on Pinterest. Which, Pinterest, by the way, made the news here in LA a few days ago and the reporter doing the story called it, "Pin-interest", and said it's "Facebook's new social media threat." Ok, not quite.

Anyway, Garrett and I had green french toast and green milk for breakfast. I think he was scared of the milk. I gave him syrup for the first time. For some reason syrup can put me in a sugar induced coma faster than anything, so I only gave Garrett a few drops. But he LOVED it. He (literally) licked his plate clean.
After his morning nap we frosted sugar cookies. (Note to self: Next time, eat lunch before you pull out the cookies.) Syrup for breakfast + frosting for lunch = mother of the year.

I made Irish Stew for dinner, minus the irish. It was so yummy and so easy, and partially made up. Here's what I did if you want an easy crock pot dinner.About a pound of steak (or stew meat) cubed and browned in a couple tbs. oil
4 med potatoes, peeled and cubed
6 med carrots, peeled and sliced
1 lg onion diced
A little diced celery...I don't love cooked celery, but I had some, and my mom always puts it in her stew so I added a little.
2 cans of Cream Of whatever soup. I had one chicken and one celery so I used those.
2 cans of tomato sauce
About 1 tbs minced garlic
About 2 tbs chili powder
About 1/4 cup ketchup

Mix it all in a crock pot, I added about a cup of water. I salted and peppered it a little and let it cook for a few hours. Yummy. Oh and I think if you want it to be Irish, just add some Guinness instead of water.

Poppy had worked with Paul all day so we invited him up to join us. For dessert I made Irish dirt cake. Also, minus the irish. Very easy as well and pretty good. I got the recipe from tablespoon.com via Pinterest.I also dressed my kids festively and took pictures of them being cute. And during nap time I made a handkerchief dress for Addison. I wish I could find smaller handkerchiefs because when I finished this I tried it on Garrett and I bet it won't fit Addie for a couple more years, but if I cut it down I'd lose the pattern in the fabric. Anyway, it took like 15 minutes, I'm going to try it with regular fabric too though, so I can make them any size I want. Total cost, less that $5.00!And when the fun was over and all the messes were cleaned up, I went to find my family because it had been pretty quiet for a while, and this is what I found in our bedroom.Perfect way to end the day.

Depression

I know, two in one day, as if my almost daily posts aren't a little over-kill already. But I wanted to write about this when it was fresh on my mind.

I had a dream last night that I was filling out some new patient paper work at a doctors office. And I got to the page that has 50 or so illnesses/diseases listed and you have to check the ones that you have or a family member has. Most of them are ones you've never heard of, among more common ones like stroke, heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, etc. But in my dream that page was full of types of depression. Some descriptions that didn't even make sense. Chronic Depression, Clinical Depression, Postpartum Depression, Sleep Apnea Depression, Prenatal Depression, Weight Gain due to Depression, Weight Loss due to Depression, etc. The list went on and on. In my dream I felt like I had to check every single one of them or I'd be lying to the doctor.

I haven't talked much about my depression on here and I probably won't too much. But I think I do need to update about it from time to time. Our councillor is really helping me a lot. I feel like I've gotten a bit better over the past couple months. I have down days and weeks. I even have down hours where the day is great and then a 'dark cloud' if you will, comes over me for no reason. I hate it so very bad. Some things that I've discovered that help me are exercise, making time to be creative whether that be a craft or baking something fun, and a clean house. I try hard to have a good balance of these things every week.

I've become more excited about having another baby. But with that excitement comes an equal amount of fear of a major crash postpartum. Paul and I have had a couple real serious talks about me starting some medication after the baby is born. We still don't know how we're going to go about that yet.

On Sunday there was a post secret that I could have written. Probably most people who battle depression but really enjoy life as well will totally get this. It read, "I wish my depression could understand how great my life really is so it would leave me alone."

This may be something I struggle with my entire life in some form or another, but I'm so grateful for the good days, family, good friends, and people who are well trained and willing to help.

The one where I stop being scared to talk about depression.

I've struggled with depression a little bit in the past.

I've had 3 counselors over the years. 4 if you count the one I met with one time before my divorce. But I just say 3.

Although I believe the counselling was helpful, I really only remember one thing from each counselor.

Spencer, my first one, (I was about 13) after asking me what I thought I should do for my dad for fathers day and I said, "buy him a tie" he told me a better idea would be to write him a letter.

My dad and I have always had a rocky relationship. It's been more than a hundred times better the past 10 years or so, but during my teenage years we wanted to kill each other. Every once in a while Spencer's advice would pop into my head. Just remembering that simple advice has slowly helped me learn to understand and communicate better with my dad. I don't think it worked that year on fathers day, but it eventually did.

Dr. Kolby, my second one, (I was 15) she's the only one who I met with in a regular office instead of a home office so I think it made me feel more crazy and I wasn't a fan. It was at some behavioral and mental health clinic in Ogden, Utah. She was also the only female I saw. The thing I remember about her was on my first visit she asked me some leading questions and I said, "You don't know me and I don't know you, so lets not pretend like we do. My parents are going to pay you 90 dollars whether we talk or whether we shut up, so how about we just shut up." I don't remember her response, but I remember it made me completely open up and I started to look forward to the days where I got checked out of high school to go see her.

Woody, my third one, (I was 24) was actually retired, but still met with people for free because he was so passionate about helping others. Now that I'm writing this, I remember two things he said to me. One: "90% of counselling is just hearing ourselves say, out loud, the things we're really feeling and struggling with." I really believe that, because with him, I did most of the talking, but I always left feeling empowered and happy. The other thing he said to me was, "You should write a book someday. So many people could benefit just by hearing your story." My response, "I have a story, but I don't have any profound advice or ways of helping people through similar situations." His response, "You don't need answers, just telling people that you've been through similar things as they're going through is often more helpful than telling them how to fix it." My 'story' that he was helping me deal with wasn't harder or easier than anything that I'm sure every person on earth has dealt with, but it was my trial during that time in my life, and I needed help. And who knows, maybe someday telling that story can help someone else.

I don't really know why I wrote about those 3 experiences, other than that I've been thinking about them and trying to recall those times in my life for the past couple months.

I'm depressed. I have been since I was about half way done cooking Garrett. I never told anyone because I felt so guilty for being depressed. I was about to have what millions of women want but never get. I was surrounded by friends, co-workers, neighbors and fellow bloggers who were struggling with fertility problems, having miscarriages, failing at in vetro over and over, and even starting the adoption process because of all the years and pain and loss they'd experienced. Paul and I had one crazy new years eve where we miscounted days, and 9 months later we had a kid. I didn't have a right or a good reason to be depressed. I thought if I told anyone that they'd think I was an ungrateful b*tch, because I felt like I was. I also thought seeing that little beautiful baby would make it go away. So I waited...

He came, and it didn't go away, in fact, it got worse. 'Postpartum depression' is the term. A term that earlier in my life I thought was a ridiculous cop-out that women who didn't appreciate what they'd been blessed with, used. My apologies.

My thoughts when I tried to face the depression this time around were things like: I have a wonderful hard working husband who would get a second job if he needed to so I could stay home. I have the most beautiful baby I've ever seen and I get to keep him. He's an actual little human being that I grew inside of me, and part of who he is is me! My body grew that body! Those thoughts were always amazing miracles to me. We have a safe place to live. We have supportive family. I have so many things to be thankful for and I shouldn't feel this way. I didn't always feel depressed, in fact, I loved (and still love) being a mom, and I had (and have) a lot of very happy days. But I was always battling a dark and overwhelming place in the back of my mind. I could feel it coming on, sometimes at the strangest times, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

When I look back at my life, and at pictures, (I've always been a picture taker, and a lot of my life can be told through pictures), I can remember times that where much darker than others. I've have wonderfully happy times, for even years at a time, but depression has been a struggle for me from time to time. Not always there, and not always something that I spent much or any time thinking about, just something I knew had been there before and could possibly show itself again.

When I was searching for someone to help Garrett with his torticollis, we went to a massage therapist in Bountiful. She specialized in craniosacral therapy. She did some work on Garrett and when we were about to leave she said to me, "You should make an appointment to come back and have some craniosacral therapy yourself." I said, "why do you say that?" She said, "It would really help you." Then she said, "Brook Shields had craniosacral therapy when she had postpartum depression and it really helped her." My first thought was, who does she think she is, just assuming that I'm depressed?? But my deep down thought was, thank God someone can see that I'm not ok!

I had a few sessions of craniosacral therapy, I enjoyed it, but it didn't 'fix' me. I continued to put Garrett and Paul before myself. I continued to try and fight this depression alone. We moved to California, which was really convenient because I had a new thing to blame my depression on. It didn't get better, and it didn't stay the same. It got worse, and worse, and worse...

Paul knew I was struggling, but I think we both just wanted things to get better on their own. It wasn't until a little over a month ago at a BJ's restaurant in San Diego where I had an epic breakdown that Paul (and I) realized that I needed some help.

I saw a doctor a couple days later, we received two great referrals for psychologists, and we've found one we like, a lot. Paul goes with me. At first I wanted to go alone, but Randy (the therapist) explained to me how important it is that Paul see and hear and understand where I am, and also get educated on how to help me. And help us. Because I'd be a huge liar if I said my depression hasn't had any negative affect on our marriage.

I don't like being like this. I don't like that sometimes the sadness I feel is unexplainable. I don't like how dark my world can be at times. But I like that there are people who will help. I like that I'm learning to make me a priority. And I like that I'm learning not to beat myself up when a new PA at the doctors office looks at my like I'm the worst mom in the world because I don't read books to my baby EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I have the best husband who's assured me he's not going anywhere. I have the cutest baby boy in the world who smiles at me all day long for no reason. I have parents who love me. I have brothers who love me. I have a sister-in-law who sends me TOMS in the mail just for fun. I have a brand new fridge with an ice maker and lights inside that actually work. I have thousands of pictures of incredible places I've been and people I've met that I'll never forget. I have a nice place to live. And I have the best french dip sandwich I've ever tasted at a restaurant right across the street.

If you've made it this far, good for you. I probably wouldn't have made it this far if this was your blog. I'll probably touch back on this topic from time to time, but for the most part I'll try to be my 'normal' happy self.

Also, I'm not contagious, and I still laugh a lot and have fun a lot, so feel free to come visit.