PPD

Ever feel like we as a society have an abbreviation for everything?  For instance, how often do you type "lol" in a 24 hour period?  We all seem like mad men, laughing out loud at everything.  Or PTSD.  It's no longer "I feel sad because something bad just happened to me."  It's POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER.  We live in a world filled with ADD.  ADHD.  PCOS.  IVF.  I'm sure there are more.

Especially in pregnancy, there's always an abbreviation to be concerned about.  One of them is PPD.  Postpartum Depression.

As soon as you pop that baby out, they stick this paper in your hands with a test for PPD.  Mine was a "scale of 1-10" jobbie.  And it asks you things like, "I am able to view life as positively as before giving birth."  "I find as much joy in doing my favorite things as I did before giving birth."

You're literally sitting in your hospital gown, exhausted beyond measure, and your husband is reading you this list.  And you're like, "I haven't slept in 24 hours.  No.  I'm not going to find much joy in hiking and kickboxing as I did before giving birth."

So they give you the same test about 6 weeks later.  This time you're sitting naked from the waist down with a purple drape over your knees and they give you a pen, and after the third time of poking a hole in your test sheet, you kind of give up and answer all the questions "5."  The doctor is like, "Ah, no real problems here!"  And you're on your way.

I want to make sure you know that there is a real stage after pregnancy called "The Baby Blues."  They WILL happen, and essentially it's just this huge letdown of hormones.  It's like your body turns on this waterfall of emotions and you're scared and happy and depressed and in love and in hate and everything in one moment.  It's like a whole Spanish soap opera in about 30 seconds.

PPD is not "Baby Blues."  Sometimes PPD will sneak up on you later- months later.  Up to a year later.  And suddenly you're crying for no reason.  You want to divorce your husband- quite literally.  You consider yourself such an unfit mother, you consider giving your child to someone who can raise him better.  You think you're fat.  You think you're ugly.  You avoid any pictures being taken.  Your stomach is constantly in knots, and your appetite is nowhere to be found.  You can't sleep.  You're too sleepy to stay awake.  You cannot hold two thoughts together.  You stare at something for minutes, wondering how you did it before.  Everything looks foreign to you.  You drive somewhere and you don't remember getting there.  You can't remember how to get back.

And then it gets worse.  You envision the worst possible things happening to your baby.  You'll be walking down the stairs and you're like, "What if I drop him?  What if he breaks his neck?  What if he cuts his head and bleeds all over the floor?  Who am I going to call?  Will the police take me in for questioning?  Would we move because we couldn't live in the house where our son died?  Would we get a divorce?  Would my husband then commit suicide because he can't live without our son?"  And that all happens within an instant of thought.  Or you'll be making supper with the baby in the front pack, and you'll be cutting up carrots and you'll start to think, "What if I accidentally slip with this knife and it cuts his arm?  Could it cut it off do you think?  Would I call 911?  Would he need stitches?  Do you think they would take him away from me?  Would I be able to ride in the ambulance with him?"

This happens literally all the time.  Bath time (what if his head goes under?).  Car rides (if we're in an accident, and I black out, what's going to happen to him?).  Bed time (What happens if he suffocates while he's sleeping?  Would he turn blue?)  When others hold him (what if they just drop him?  Or shake him?  Or throw him?)  And it's literally paralyzing.  For a moment- a brief moment- you know where the women who kill themselves and their children are coming from.  Not that you'd act on it...but you get it.  The mental pressure is just...overwhelming, like that.

Symptoms of PPD include:

• Agitation or irritability
• Changes in appetite
• Feelings worthless or guilty
• Feeling withdrawn or unconnected
• Lack of pleasure or interest in most or all activities
• Loss of concentration
• Loss of energy
• Problems doing tasks at home or work
• Significant anxiety
• Thoughts of death or suicide
• Trouble sleeping

A mother with PPD may also:

• Be unable to care for herself or her baby
• Be afraid to be alone with her baby
• Have negative feelings toward the baby or even think about harming the baby (Although these feelings are scary, they are almost never acted on. Still you should tell your doctor about them right away.)
• Worry intensely about the baby, or have little interest in the baby

So today I go to the doctor about it.  I'm speaking to the midwife that delivered Liam and we're going to get it hashed out.  I haven't spoken to my husband about it- there's no way he'd handle it well.  In fact, I've really spoken to nobody about it.  At first I was convinced it was from lack of sleep only, but then I came to realize that the lack of sleep was actually part of it.  It's gotten increasingly worse after I've had to stop breast feeding.  Before it was here and there.  Now it's constant.

So we'll see.

And as always, I will blog about it.

Am I doing it right?

I've come to a conclusion about parenting- it's all trial and error.  Every ounce of it.  You can read the books, watch all the shows, listen to all the advice, but until you try it for yourself?  It all means nothing. 

Take this bed time thing.  All my work on getting a quiet, warm room with the white noise machine at an appropriate decibel, with the correct ratio of blanket to baby and the cats safely at bay.  As I'm trying to put him down at the stroke of 8, so he develops a routine, I'm finding that I'm sitting there rocking him for no less than 1.5 hours.  Meanwhile I'm texting my husband (who comes home from work at 8:30) "I'm so sorry.  I'll get you supper soon!" It's too much, really.

Liam is most comfy with routine, as are most children.  They like to know what's coming next.  When people ask me what I'm doing to facilitate an easy bed time, I start it off with, "Well, THIS week, THIS is working for me..."  Because every night you try something different, just until it works.

Some things I've come away with while trying to get my little guy to sleep:

1) Watch them while they settle in.  I found Liam was clutching my arm, chest, neck, whatever he could wrap his little arms around.  When I put him in his crib, and I would pull my arms away, he would scream.  I tried slipping a blanket in place of my arm and sure enough he put it over his face and held it tightly and settled in.  I started watching him as he slept to see what was triggering his awakenings.  At one point I realized when his hands were cold and he was touching his face, he'd wake up.  That's how I knew we needed to start dressing him warmer.

2) Peace and quiet isn't always the best.  We found that Liam was a really light sleeper.  The slightest noise and he was up.  When we started using the white noise machine, we found that he was concentrating on the sound of the ocean and not every other little thing.  Turns out the one night we forgot to put it on and Andy and I woke up so exhausted!  Guess it worked for us too!  One of the things I hear from parents is that you don't want a light sleeper.  Well, guess what.  Kids want to know what's going on.  Everything is new.  Everything is exciting.  They're going to wake up.  So do your best to minimize extra noises, but try the white noise machine.  It works.

3) Crying it out isn't for everyone.  Turns out that Liam can wail for 2 hours straight.  If you've been reading my posts for the past month, you will know my hate/hate relationship with this method.  That being said.  LISTEN to your baby's cry and get to know their various tones and timbres.  When they start to cry, don't rush right in, but maybe give them 90 seconds to figure it out themselves.  If the crying escalates, then make your move.  But make sure it's for real and not just a short lived bad dream.

4) Go ahead.  Pick 'em up.  Here's something that is working for me.  The more I survey Liam, the more I see what a tactile child he is.  When I carry him, he wants to be cheek to cheek with me.  He cuddles to my chest and he feels my face.  His language of love at this point is physical touch- after all, he DID spend 39 weeks in my belly, where my hands were constantly on him.  So when I was going into his room and soothing him verbally and then leaving, it wasn't working.  Why?  Because I didn't meet his need at that moment.  I started picking him up right away and he was actually falling back to sleep instantly.  I began holding him tightly in a blanket and then laying him down again all tucked in and it was working.

5) There's always tomorrow night.  I could fill this entire blog with tips that worked for me once and then were void the next night, or even the night time Liam cried at bed time.  Currently, we've been skipping the rocking all together.  And we moved bed time to 9:30.  This way I can get Andy's supper and spend my time with him AND get Liam to sleep.  The night I gave up and just brought him down and turned off all the lights and let him fall asleep on my lap, he went down immediately and slept the night through.  Two nights in a row.

Are any of these tips 100% proven?  No.  Do I have a PhD behind my name?  No.  I can barely remember to write my married name and I'll be married 4 years this year.  I'm basically writing this to inform people that their OKAY.  You're not messing your kid up just because your bedtime routine doesn't currently line up with Sally Shmoe's down the street.  For goodness sakes, the other night Liam was freezing cold and crying and I cuddled him with us and we all slept. 

We get so tied up in doing it "right" that we put added pressure on our kids and our husbands and OURSELVES.  We fear the peer pressure that comes from talking with other moms and admitting we still rock our kids to sleep.  Are you kidding me?  Just release that!  Those other moms are not there when you're trying to get your kid to sleep.  They are not married to your husband.  They are not YOU.  So just do what it takes to raise your child with love and compassion.  LISTEN to them, and give yourself space to make mistakes.  It's all going to be okay.  Promise.

The end of an era.

Last week something happened, and I'm more sad than I actually thought I would be. I knew this day was coming but I didn't know I would react in this manner.

I pumped and got nothing. Like, my milk is all gone. I thought my pump wasn't working at first, but it was working fine.

I didn't cry immediately.  In fact, I tried again at lunch.  I took nine fenugreek.  I chugged my mother's milk tea.  I thought about Liam and looked at his pictures...anything to trigger a let down.  But there was nothing there.

And then I cried.

I thought maybe it was a fluke.  So I tried again and got 1/4 of an ounce in three pumpings combined.  Both boobs.  I came home and put my pump down and haven't picked it up since.  It needs washed.  The 1/4 oz of milk is still in the bottle.  It's been a week.  I need to do something with it.  I just wasn't expecting this.

My husband was comforting- you did the best you could!
My mom was just as comforting- honey it's fine.  You almost made it to 6 months!

Almost.  But not quite.

I've been around the block with this nursing thing.  I never really loved it, but I did it because it was right for Liam.  But I wanted to do what was best for him.

I was explaining this to one of my friends- you know, the friend with the boobs like two kegs?- and that night I came home to a porch full of her expressed milk.  An entire cooler bag just full of it.  Ounces and ounces of breast milk for Liam.  She wouldn't let me pay her.  She wouldn't let me do anything, except accept the gift.

You hear the phrase- it takes a village to raise a child.  And you smile when you hear it, thinking only of the times where someone might watch your child for date night.  Or perhaps making a meal for a family when everyone comes down with the simultaneous sinus infection.  You think of borrowed sugar to finish cupcakes or a car pool salvation on a day your car won't start.  You expect these things, and come to think of them as "All a part of being a mom!" 

And then 20 bags of expressed breast milk show up on your porch.  I explained to Liam that this was Grace's mommy's milk.  That Gracie was sharing with him.  But really, it was Grace's mommy sharing with ME.  So now my son gets the nutrients he needs for one more month, and I learn a lesson in humility and accepting a gift I can never repay.

5 Months!

Happy Five Months to Liam!

He continues to get more precious every day.  And every night.  My next hurdle is trying to get him to sleep through the night consistantly.  More on this later.

Zzzzz...

I'm writing this from my phone.
I'm currently rocking Sweet Liam to sleep.
I just want to reiterate how happy I am.
Last night he woke up, but putting him back to sleep was as easy as sticking the paci back in.
Happy does not mean well rested.
Happy does not mean perfect.
Happy means content in the knowledge that you're doing the best you can with what you're given.

I want to write my own guidelines for putting a baby to sleep Liam Style (like Gangam Style, only less sexy). But I'll wait until I'm not typing with only my thumb.

Excuse me if I cut this short. I'm busy watching my son sleep.

With Regrets...

Liam slept through the night last night.  No tears.  Not even a whimper.

I turned on the heater, and turned off the lights.  Turned on the white noise machine and the projector.  I came equipped with a four ounce bottle and a pacifier (and of course my phone- to give Andy the play-by-play of what was going on in the nursery).  Oh, and of course, Liam.

He was almost asleep when he was finished with the bottle.  Almost.  I covered him up and rocked him (satisfying my need to cuddle and coddle) and prayed over him and stroked his little baby head.  And then he was fast asleep.  I felt so...amazing.  Just sitting there by the light of the projector, rocking my tiny son.  I felt peace.

I tried to put him down once, and he screamed.  I lost a little hope.  And it was that shrill, "mommy don't leave" cry.  So I picked him up, rocked him again.  Less than three minutes, he was out again.

I put him down on his SIDE, propped up with a pillow behind him.  I left him lay on my hand for MAYBE 15 seconds, and then gently pulled it away. 

I stood outside the door and waited.  Silence.

I went downstairs and cleaned up my kitchen.  Silence.

I watched TV with Andy.  Silence.

I worked on knitting Liam this cute little owl hat.  Silence.

I enjoyed some time with my husband.  Silence.

This morning I woke up and peeked in to find this:

And then at 7:00 this morning, I hear little giggles and laughs coming from the nursery.  He had turn himself around in the crib so he was laying short-wise, with his legs through the rungs on the crib and was holding on to the side rungs.  He was kicking his feet and laughing and when I came in...well.  You can just imagine.  I picked him up and praised him for being such a big boy and sleeping again in his own bed.  He gave me huge kisses, sweet boy :)

---

I regret ever letting him cry it out.  I regret even MORE succumbing to the taunts of another mommy telling me that he was training me and I needed to be firmer with him.  You know what?  Shoulda punched her when I had the chance.  All along I was saying- this isn't right for us.  She just kept pushing until I was like, okay, we'll try it.

Let this be a lesson to you, young mommies.  Follow your heart and your gut.  They are both there for a reason.

We'll try it again tonight!

Liam says have a good day :)

Night Number Two

This post will be short.  I don't need to take my readers through every moment of our night last night. 

Andy put Liam down- asleep- at 8:30.  He woke up.  We did the "every ten minutes" thing until 10:30 when I finally rocked him to sleep.  He woke up.  I rocked him to sleep again.  He slept for the rest of the night.  Andy needed to wake up at 4:30 this morning.  He's already got a sinus infection.  It wasn't fair.

However, for the first time in about a month, I slept through the night SOLID.  No waking up.  Liam slept through the night IN his crib.  So maybe this is helping?  I'm giving it a week. 

I still feel like the meanest mommy in the world.