Still suffering but not giving in

Its been over ten months and I know that I've improved, but I still struggle with PPA.  The thoughts creep into my brain out of nowhere and trigger some sort of anxiety fueled psychosis for about a minute or so.  A minute, you ask?  Big whoop, right? Well, if a minute sounds like nothing, imagine standing on the roof of your house and leaning far forward while a stanger holds onto you just by the back of your shirt for a  whole minute.  A little bit of fear, terror, doubt, worry, stress and anxiety might be running thru your mind perhaps?  Yes, I imagine that is slightly better than this minute of craziness in my brain.  It happens much less frequently now, but I wish it would just stop altogether. 

For example, The baby and I slept at my mother's house on Friday night so I could get some solid sleep.  As I laid down in my room, I thought of the baby in my mom's room.  What if she got smothered by rolling into the pillows?  Or if my mom rolled over on  her by accident.  I had this horrible vision of my mother waking up and screaming, crying and shaking the baby.  I had to stop my brain.  Literally pulling the mental emergency brake.  Its taken me this long to find that  brake and figure out how to use it.   sometimes I wonder if this immensely powerful love I feel for her is what fuels these thoughts.  I still have yet to find out why this happens.  People can help you identify it and try to  help you cope, but no one can explain where it comes from and why.  If we could answer that question, maybe none of us would have to go thru this altogether.

Finding help

Finding help for my newfound ADDITIONAL insanity was like finding a whore in church.  You know they're probably there, but you have to do some major investigating to smoke 'em out.   Fortunately I already had a therapist for my ORIGINAL insanity, otherwise I'd probably be in a corner somewhere listening to and watching Sheen's Korner on the internet while thinking "boy, that Charlie Sheen really makes a lot of sense these days!" 

I started searching on the internet for help websites and PPD chat and message board communities.  There wasn't much.  And when I found something, no one had posted or replied to posts in quite awhile.  Then I went to the mothership of PPD websites and did a search for help from "someone near me".  I sent an email begging for help and waited.  I checked my phone for new emails constantly.  I was desperate.

Then I got a response.  Some wonderful savior was going to gather info and "get right back to me".  The key words are "get right back to me".   I waited some more.  Two days passed and while I was still looking for local help, I didn't hear anything from this delegated savior.  So, I sent her an email saying that I hadn't heard from her, so if she sent me something, she needed to resend it because I never got it. 

Can you say DROPPED THE BALL?  Or how about GOT THE BIG KISS OFF?  I was devastated.  These were the people who were supposed to be the pros!  I got some half assed email saying she was still pulling the info together and would get back to me soon.  It's a good thing I wasn't sitting in front of my computer waiting because I'd still freakin' be there with roots growing out of my ass.

I called the hospital.  I called my pediatrician.  I called my gyno.  I cried, literally, in front of or on the phone with each person I spoke to.  My OB/GYN looked at me with such pity.  I could see that she was shocked that this person who was laughing constantly during hours of labor was crying pathetically.  "Do you have a therapist?"  "Yes," I sobbed.  "Then I think you should call them."

And that's what I did.  I called my therapist Steve and he started helping me fix my brain.  It was the first time in 9 years that I called and asked for an emergency appointment - not even through divorce, death and drama did I call.  I think he was shocked by the seriousness just by the request for an emergency appointment.  Think about what I just said tho..... divorce, death and drama didn't even put me in this horrific place in my brain.  This was new territory for us all.

Looking back

I feel like my PPSD started before I gave birth, but at it's absolute worst, the nighttime was my most dreaded time.  I wonder how in the hell my husband managed to get some sleep because if the roles were reversed,  would've abandoned our bedroom and slept somewhere else......or freaked out on him!  It was if I looked for every possible way to make sure he would never see REM sleep and if he was awake, he'd have all sorts of obsticals to get out of the room.

Every night, I would sleep on the side of the bed closest to the baby's basinette.  I pulled it as close to the bed as possible and as far up to my head as I could, which would block J's route to the bathroom from our bedroom.  He had to leave the bedroom, and go into the hallway to enter the bathroom if he neeed to go.  This was made even more interesting by the menagerie of animals that slept on that route.  A big border collie, a small shorkie, and two cats.I slept with my glasses on, the lights on, the television on, and the remotes in my hand to be sure that he wouldn't try to shut the tv off. 

At the time, I wasn't sure why I did all of this, but after I started examining what was going on with me, I was subconsciously doing everything I could to make sure I was on "red alert" if Allie needed me.  One little cry and I could sit up, fully awake (since I never could fall into a deep sleep) and be able to see her and evaluate the situation easily.   I never wanted to fall asleep and when I did, I would usually be jolted back awake with some kind of feeling of panic.  Was everything okay???

But what tortured me more than anything was my mind.  I felt like something dark was inside of me, whispering horrible thoughts that I couldn't get away from.  It was 'something dark".  That's the only way I could explain it to anyone.  I worried about things that ripped at my heart, made me cry and kept me even more paranoid.  The darkness was eating away at me and i so desperately didn't want it to win.  I wanted to fight it so I could enjoy my baby.  Nightmares while awake of cancer, kidnapping, torture, death and more... all of it was floating around, creating a barrier between me and my new life.  Where could I get someone to help me make this all stop?

I had no idea!

When I came home with my beautiful little baby,  I felt like a million bucks!   I felt so good that I needed very little sleep,  was cheerful,  felt like I could care for her totally on my own without my husband's help,  and I was energized!   I had so much energy that I went back to work almost immediately.   I have a pet sitting business and my husband was helping me with as much as I would let him,  which I realized wasn't enough when my c-section incision split open a few days after I got home...... and repeatedly until three months later when my body miraculously healed itself.

I remember seeing posters in the hospital about postpartum depression.   There was one right outside my door.   My husband and I commented on how prevalent it must be with so many posters around.   I thought of Brooke Shields and my cousin who had experienced PPD.   It was so traumatic and I really felt for them!   Something drew me to these posters every day.   I would stare at them while walking Allie up and down the hall.   I had no idea that shortly I would become one of those who suffer.   And suffer,  I did.   I'm still suffering,  just on a much lighter level.   Thank God because if things didn't change I was bound for the loony bin!  Bee line from Maternity to Psych Ward!