Another Book Review...

I have recently confided my diagnosis of postpartum depression. It has been a battle, but I am thankful to feel as if I am winning the war. To learn how someone else coped with this disease I read Down Came the Rain My Journey Through Postpartum Depression by Brooke Shields. I chose her book because I appreciated how she had been so publicly candid about her struggle.

The book's early chapters outline Brooke's struggle with infertility. Evidently fertility treatments can make some women more susceptible to postpartum depression. She also explains both the physical and emotional pain of a miscarriage. It seems once she conceives her daughter Rowan the pregnancy is uneventful. She feels well and strong. She takes good care of herself. In short, she did everything right.

The month leading up to delivery she experiences a highly personal loss. The delivery also does not go well. She has major complications. As a celebrity she also has privacy issues in the hospital. Once she finally gets home, everything starts to fall apart. The rest of the book chronicles her realization that she needs help and what she does to cope with the disease. At the end she summarizes the decisions she made which were helpful and those which were detrimental to her recovery.

Overall I enjoyed her memoir. It was an easy read and was relatively well written. She was encouraging and honest. I truly appreciate her coming forward to help erase any stigma associated with this disease.

While reading, it was comforting to know someone else had been in a similar situation and had come out the other side healthy and strong. In some ways her depression was more obvious to those around her since its onset was immediately after delivery. Postpartum depression can come on any time in the first year after the baby's birth. Mine didn't hit until three to four months postpartum. Mine was also more gradual. One day was hard. Then the next was not bad. Then the next couple of days were tough. Pretty soon all the days were tough and I did not even see how unhappy I had become. After about four months I reached a breaking point and knew something was off. I couldn't really put my finger on the problem, but I knew something had to change.

So, I started exercising. Usually this is a good idea for women struggling with depression. Sadly, it didn't really help in my case. This is mostly because the exercise caused me to lose my milk supply. The reduction in my milk supply caused my breastfed baby to wake more frequently in the night. Poor Panda Girl was hungry. At this point she was eight months old and had never tasted formula. I tried to feed her some to supplement and she hated it. I started to eat more to make up for the calories I was burning working out. Instead of increasing my dwindling milk supply, the eating caused me to gain weight. In the meantime I am sure my hormones were probably all over the place. I also have thyroid disease and I am sure it played a role in my struggle. At this time Sweet Pea, my very stubborn child, was refusing to potty train. So there I was with two kids in diapers, up several times a night and I had no real break to take care of myself on a regular basis. I was exhausted. I was uninterested. I was mad as a hornet at my situation.

I was able to wean Panda Girl when she was eleven months. Thankfully she loves whole milk. The first night she had a bottle of whole milk she slept through the night and never looked back. That same week Sweet Pea finally consented to being potty trained. At that point we were headed in the right direction. I was sure I would start to feel better soon. I started exercising more, hoping that would hasten my recovery. Nothing seemed to work. I still longed to crawl into bed all day, every day.

Once I realized how tired I really was, I was certain my problem had its root in my thyroid issues. One of the biggest symptoms of Hashimoto's Disease is fatigue. My endocrinologist's appointment was just a couple of months away, I decided to just solider on until then. That was a decision I would live to regret. My appointment finally arrived the first week of August. I had dutifully had all my blood work done prior to the day I was seeing my doctor. I wanted the appointment to be productive, not one riddled with theories. I walked in to talk to my doctor and he reviewed the symptoms I had listed to the nurse that I was experiencing. He looked at my blood work and it looked perfect. There was nothing more that could be done with my thyroid. The levels were at just the right points. In that moment, I started to cry. I could no longer explain away my symptoms. I worried that I was destined to feel horrible forever.

My much older male doctor didn't flinch at my tears. He just started asking me about my life. He asked me if I was working outside the home. I told him I stay home with my little ladies. He asked me if I would be happier if I worked somewhere else. My reply was that I didn't want to leave my girls each day. At that moment he asked me something I never expected to be asked. He asked me if maybe I should be working. Is it possible that by staying home, I was making myself miserable? He told me he thought I was depressed. He suggested several ways I could try to improve my situation. He was concerned about Husband's schedule (he has been traveling from Tues to Thurs night most weeks). Finally he concluded that I needed to get more time to take care of myself. However I decided to do that was my decision.

He also recommended an anti-depressant. In that moment I was willing to try anything. He cautioned me to to expect too much too quickly. The meds would take some time to work. We scheduled another appointment for a month later and I went on my way. I took my first dose that day. I figured that I may as well get this show on the road. It was a Thursday. By Saturday I was noticing that I had more energy. I had a couple of side effects, but I felt better. By the following week, I was really noticing a huge difference. My coffee intake dropped dramatically. I was able to sleep better. I didn't have to convince myself to get up and take care of my girls each morning. I started thinking about what would be helpful to me.

I thought I would start a journal. After thinking about it some more, I decided I would write a blog about my experiences. I don't expect this to help other people. It truly is therapy to me. I also love books. Thus, this blog was born. I also started a project or two around the house.

I go back to my doctor tomorrow. I can't wait for him to see how much better I feel. I am enjoying myself for the first time since Panda Girl was born. I am able to see humor in everyday life again. Each setback is not the end of the world. The sky is no longer falling. My only regret is that I suffered for so long. Truly it took about a year of misery for me to give up and seek help. If I can reach only one person who is soldiering through in silence and convince her to get help, then I will feel as if my pain has not been in vain.