Courtney's Anti-PPD Checklist

I had postpartum depression after the birth of my first child. When I got pregnant with my second, I knew there was a strong possibility I would get it again. But I also knew that if I took certain steps, I could minimize that risk. Or, at the very least, I could have safeguards in place to keep the postpartum depression from being as severe as my 2013 edition. After lots of soul searching, I devised "Courtney's Action Plan To Kick Postpartum Depression In The Ass."

My action plan involved four parts: (1) skip breastfeeding entirely (Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Try To Eek Out A Few Drops of Colostrum); (2) take Zoloft as soon as the baby left my womb; (3) hire a night nurse; and (4) keep doing all the little things that make me happy. 

I will write about the first three parts of my action plan in future blog posts. Right now, I want to tell you about my checklist. My recovery from postpartum depression involved a lot of big things - a four night stay in the hospital, Zoloft, cognitive behavioral therapy - but it also involved a lot of little things like listening to music and getting fresh air. Those little things might seem inconsequential, but they were as important to my recovery as the big ticket items.

The "little things" could also be the difference between having postpartum depression again and just experiencing regular new mommy challenges. Yet I would be exhausted and brain dead during those first postpartum weeks. I might not remember to do the little things that keep my soul happy. So I drafted Courtney's Anti-PPD Checklist, a list of all the little things that give a huge boost to my morale and mental health. I posted the list to a bulletin board in my bedroom and checked it every day.

Without further ado, I give you Courtney's Anti-PPD Checklist:  

• Fresh Air (front lawn, nature walk around the block, rocking chair on the porch)  
• Sunlight - open the blinds!
• Exercise  
• Shower
• Listen to music! 
• Get silly with Pippa - tickle her at least once a day.  
• Doodle or draw or craft or knit  
• Drink tons of water
• Write for 10 minutes by hand  
• Sing a song
• Stretch 

My Anti-PPD Checklist was incredibly helpful. It gave me a daily plan of attack. It inspired me to get outside and walk around the block even though I could barely shuffle. It reminded me that in order to take care of my children, I have to first take care of myself. I have not felt any twinges of depression or anxiety, but I'm not getting cocky. It's easy to forget to do things like take a shower or write in my journal for ten minutes when there's a baby crying for food. Yet I need to shower and write in my journal to remain the best version of myself. So even though I mostly feel wonderful and good, I am keeping the Anti-PPD Checklist tacked to a very prominent place on my bulletin board.  

I might never take it down.

Climb Out of Darkness - Team Pasadena!

Last year, I participated in Climb Out of Darkness, the world's largest event rising awareness about perinatal mood and anxiety disorders.  I went on a local hike, and I did it alone, and it was such an awesome way to celebrate how far I had come since I was first diagnosed with postpartum depression.  I blogged about it here. In that blog post, I vowed to organize Team Pasadena for the 2015 event.

Guess what? I am! I am the Leader/Sherpa for Team Pasadena for the Third Annual Climb Out Of Darkness. We are hiking on Saturday, June 20, 2015. I haven't pick the exact time, but it will be 9ish - civilized, but early enough to beat the heat.

Do you want to donate to my fundraiser campaign?  Click here and then click the donate button.

Do you want to join the team? Click here and then click the register button. You do NOT have to do any fundraising to participate in the climb. You just have to register. I am choosing between a few Pasadena hikes right now, because I want something easy enough for toddlers. The hike I went on last year was beautiful and inspiring - and had about 38 good places for a toddler to die. So this year's hike will be beautiful and inspiring, minus the toddler death traps.

Do you want to join a team but need something a little more local? Go here to check out the map of all the awesome hikes.

Warning: this is my first post about the hike. There will be others. I have so much to tell you. And thank you in advance to my readers who have already donate - you are rock stars.

The L.A. Postpartum Depression Meetup Group

When I was first diagnosed with postpartum depression, I wanted to join a group of women who also had postpartum depression. I imagined we would share war stories and give each other support. Maybe someone who had already recovered would be my Big Sister and mentor me. I was not looking for formal group therapy because I already had a psychiatrist and psychologist.  I wanted something that was free and social. Since I live in Pasadena, right next door to L.A., I assumed I would have tons of nearby options.

There were no nearby options... unless you count Missouri.  (Or maybe it was Michigan - whatever, it was in another state, and not even a state adjacent to California.)

I was shocked and disappointed. I had a ton of support from my doctors, husband, parents, siblings, family and friends, but I really yearned for a community of women who knew exactly what I was experiencing. I often felt incredibly alone and frustrated because I could not find local mamas who had PPD.

Last May I started a meetup group for mamas in Pasadena who have or had PPD. We are now eleven mamas strong! We meet at local parks and talk, and by "talk," I mean "we pour each other's hearts out." Although I am fully recovered, I still find the group incredibly cathartic and healing, and I enjoy helping moms who are traveling through the darkness of depression. 

A few weeks ago, one of our members started a meetup group for mamas in Glendale who have or had PPD. I was so excited! Yes! This is exactly what we need! L.A. is BIG, and it is difficult to drag a baby to the far corners of the county, so let's have a meetup group in every neighborhood, from Malibu to Echo Park and everything in between.

At first I was excited, but then I felt INSPIRED.

Why should I be content with organizing a meetup group in Pasadena?  There are women, just like me, struggling with postpartum depression in Santa Monica, Beverly Hills, Los Feliz, etc. etc. Those women need meetup groups, too! But if you have PPD right now, it's difficult enough managing showers, groceries and diaper changes. I myself could not even think about starting a group until I was 110% better.

I cannot sit by and do nothing if there is one woman with PPD feeling alone and scared in L.A. County, so I started another Meetup Group today: the Los Angeles Postpartum Depression Meetup - We're Not Alone!

I am hoping to use this big L.A. group to start lots of neighborhood groups. One out of seven women suffer from postpartum depression after giving birth. There is no need for us to suffer alone!

I am so excited! I have so many other ideas. I want to get some links and pages going with PPD info on this blog. I need to start some Facebook groups to compliment the Meetup groups. And I want to send fliers to pediatricians and hospital support groups. I told Pippa's pediatrician I want to make fliers to share information about my group, and she was very enthusiastic about this. I also need business cards! I talked with a momma this morning who gave birth two weeks ago and told her about my postpartum depression. Ugh, I wish I had remembered to give her my name and email address.

I also want to make a tote bag that proudly declares the fact that I had PPD. Something I can use for sand toys so other mommas at the playground can see it, and maybe my candor and openness will help someone who is feeling shitty.

Once I help get the neighborhood groups off the ground, I want to use the L.A. group for monthly and quarterly gatherings.  Maybe sometimes we will have weekend gatherings so the dad's and grandparents can come as well.

AND THERE NEEDS TO BE A DANCE PARTY! Postpartum depression is, well, depressing; so I want to encourage moms to do fun things, because FUN helps fight depression.

AND THERE NEEDS TO BE A 5K! Every cause has a 5K. Where's the PPD Fun Run??

And this is L.A. so we need an outing to Dodgers stadium. 2015 season, I'm looking at you! I want the big t.v. screen thing to flash a big cheerful welcome to PPD Moms of L.A.

But whew, all in good time. For now, I'm working on the L.A. meetup group and getting the neighborhood gatherings started. I hope this project gathers momentum quickly, but I realize it might take time. That's okay. The best things come to those who wait.

Some Rambling Thouhts on The Whole Introvert/Extrovert Paradigm

This is my understanding of what it means to be an introvert or extrovert: an introvert draws her energy from within herself; an extrovert draws her energy from other people.

I have taken many different personality tests during my life, and the tests all agree: I am an Introvert.

I have prided myself on being a Lone Wolf. If stranded on a desert island, I would do fine.

Or so I thought.

Until recently, I have always been a member of a Pack. From preschool through law school, I spent my days with my classmates. Then I went to work and there were always tons of people around. Even if I spent most of my day staring at a computer screen, I still spent lots of time interacting with other people. For my entire life, I had a built-in Wolf Pack. I spent my days with the Pack.

After Pippa was born, I became a stay-at-home mom and I no longer had a Wolf Pack. Instead, I was a Wolf with a Cub - not a pack.

Still, I clung to my belief that I am a Lone Wolf. All the personality tests said I was an Introvert!

But here's the thing about personality tests: they depend entirely on my answers.  I might have thought I was answering the questions honestly, but sometimes I can be dishonest with myself.

Nathan has been very busy at work. Insanely busy.  Hellishly unreasonably busy.  He has been working 70-80 hours every week for ... well, it feels like forever. He has been going to the office every weekend for the past month and has been in Arizona for the past week. 

This has been tough for him, but it has also been tough for me. The weekends were especially tough. My parents were in New York, Nathan was at the office, and Pippa and I just had each other.
I was feeling .... ick ... urg... I did not know exactly what I was feeling, but it did not feel good.

I thought about it.  I wrote about it.  I thought about it some more, and then I realized ...

I was lonely.

Me? Lonely? How could that be? I'm an introvert! I should be relishing the Me Time. I only need a book and I'm happy. Right?  RIGHT?!

Wrong. I was lonely. L-O-N-E-L-Y.

I whined and complained to Nathan. He listened, but this did not change the fact that I was l-o-n-e-l-y.

So I made more plans. A year ago, I joined a local mom's group but never attended the big gatherings. I finally attended one. I emailed friends and set up lunch dates. I took Pippa to a free music class and signed us up for the semester. We went to a free gym class. I made more of an effort to chat with other moms at the playground and you know what? The friendlier I am, the friendlier the other moms are too.

When I was talking with other people, I found myself happy and ... energized. Energized by other people? WTF? Aren't I an introvert?

At my monthly appointment, I told my psychiatrist that Nathan was busy at work and I was feeling lonely. He told me if I feast all day and have burnt toast for dinner, that's okay. But if I only get one meal a day, and that meal is burnt toast, then I'm going to be cranky and depressed.

He's right. I have been getting out of the house every day and exploring new places with Pippa. We have taken classes and made friends, but we were not interacting with people every day. I depended on Nathan to be my breakfast, lunch and dinner; my mommy friends were just snacks. But with Nathan hellishly unreasonably busy at work, he did not have the time to be a 24 hour social buffet. 

After lots of ruminating and soul-searching, I finally accepted the fact that I am not a Lone Wolf. I am an extrovert, and I love being part of a pack.

You hear that, world? I AM AN EXTROVERT!!!

I believe I have always been an extrovert but thanks to my extreme anxiety, I convinced myself that I was an introvert. Let me try to explain...

Before I had postpartum depression, I was an anxious person, but I was able to function. After I gave birth, my hormones went bat shit crazy, and my anxiety went to a whole new level. I became depressed, had panic attacks, and could not sleep. I wanted to die.

But I did not die. Although I had thoughts about killing myself, I did not like those thoughts. So I saw my doctor and self-admitted myself to the hospital. I got help. I saw a cognitive behavioral therapist every week and he helped me defeat my postpartum depression. And then we tackled all of my other pre-existing anxieties, and we shredded my anxiety to pieces and then took those pieces and lit a bonfire and turned my anxiety to ash. Now that the ashes have blown away, I can see how deeply every part of my life was affected by anxiety.

I know now that thanks to my anxiety, I was afraid of people. I was so, so terribly afraid of REJECTION. I was afraid of talking to people and asking friends out to lunch because, horror of horrors, THEY MIGHT SAY NO AND THAT WOULD BE FUCKING TERRIBLE.

Except it wouldn't be. Rejection is not the end of the world. It's not even a broken arm. It's a paper cut. An itty bitty ouch, a little drop of blood, and that's it. Big deal.

I am starting to put myself out there. I joined a mommy play group. I joined a mommy class that starts at the end of the month. I started a play group/book club on Meetup a few days ago. I have a few other Meetups that I want to start, especially one for crafting and a big one for postpartum depression. I am looking at my calendar and making sure it is FULL.

I used to be afraid of a full dance card - that was another bullshit concern that my anxiety manufactured. I was afraid that I might have to cancel plans AND HOLY EFFING EFF THAT WOULD BE THE END OF THE WORLD.

Nope. Sometimes plans get cancelled. It's not the end of the world. It's not even a broken leg. Shit, it's not even a paper cut! It is, at best, an empty carton of milk that someone accidentally put back in the fridge. You think, "Shit howdy, this carton of milk is empty, let me throw it out and open this one instead" and then you move on with your life.

Rejection is not a big deal, and neither are cancelled plans. Two days ago, Pippa took a long nap at a weird time so we had to miss a play group. Guess what? The world is still here. No one broke a leg or even a toe. And there is still plenty of milk in the fridge.

This past week, I have embraced the fact that I am an extrovert. I need people! Nothing has changed - I am still the same Courtney - and yet everything has changed - for the first time in thirty-five years, I truly understand and accept who I am.

Nathan is finally coming home today after a week in Arizona, and I feel great. Pippa and I missed him, but we had a great week.  We saw lots of different people, and I had great conversations, every day. I fed my soul and energized myself by making sure I had a Pack.

Happiness!

When I was recovering from postpartum depression, my sister introduced me to The How of Happiness: A New Approach to Getting the Life You Want, by Sonja Lyubomirsky.  The book describes the science behind happiness and explains how different things make different people happy. Rather than give a one-size-fits-all approach to happiness, the book has a lengthy multiple choice test. The test results identify the best activities to boost your personal happiness. I highly recommend this book to anyone who likes to be happy (and I recommend it to the martyrs as well - happiness is so much better than misery!)

I especially recommend this book to moms recovering from postpartum depression. When I was first diagnosed with PPD, I was too broken to do much of anything; but as the Zoloft kicked in and my energy returned, I was able to become more proactive about my recovery. Zoloft was a huge essential piece of this, but it could not heal me alone. I had to seek out activities that made me happy.  PPD made me forget the things that make me happy; but The How of Happiness helped me remember what they are.

According to The How of Happiness, my "happy activities" are having goals and big projects, learning new things, and being physically active. The results could not have been more correct; but before I read this book and took its test, I could not have articulated these truths about myself.

The second half of The How of Happiness describes effective techniques to increase one's happiness, but you only read the chapters that apply to you - e.g. I read about setting goals, learning, and being physically active and then followed the advice in those chapters.

It was tough at first. Thanks to my bout of postpartum depression, and to our societal and cultural expectations about motherhood, I had become a martyr and thought I had forfeited the right to make my happiness a priority. I needed to be constantly entertaining Pippa and attending to her well-being. Now I know that in order to be the mom I want to be, I also have to take care of myself. Also, I'm discovering that the things that make me happy often make Pippa happy as well.

With that said, I have decided to use this blog to help boost my happiness even more. In addition to my love of learning, projects and physical activity, there is one other thing that makes me super happy: LISTS. Oh my god, I love lists! I have lists of places I want to visit, books to read, books I have read, museums I have visited, etc. etc. but the lists get lost or my computer crashes and eats them, and then I am so, so sad for my list.

So now I am going to start keeping my lists here! Woot woot! Time to start the first one...

Having Fun!

Quick synopsis for new (or forgetful) readers: My daughter Pippa was born in March 2013.  I struggled with postpartum depression for four months, culminating in five weeks of insomnia.  I wanted to die and finally went to see my ob/gyn in late July 2013. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and spent four nights in the hospital's psychiatric wing.  

I met my psychiatrist when I was a patient at my hospital's emergency room. I told him that I had had insomnia for the past five weeks and anxious, as if I was being stalked by a serial killer, but I was not depressed. Even though I was exhausted and broken by anxiety, I was very happy and content.

He did not seem convinced and asked if I had been having fun.

It felt like a trick question on a Calculus final exam; but I was confident that I was happy; and if I was happy, I must be having fun. Right? Happy mothers have fun - right? I was a happy mother - right? My life was filled with fun - right? I told my doctor that I was indeed having fun. 

Then he asked, "How? How are you having fun?"

How? WTF? I immediately felt defensive and cornered. The question implied that I was lying, that I was not in fact having fun in my life, that I was a horrible bitter mother who was not enjoying every precious moment with her newborn. If I was not having fun in my life, then I must hate my life; and if I hated my life, I resented my baby; and if I resented my baby, I was the most horrible mother in the world; and I could not bear the thought of that. The possibility that I was not having fun made me feel sick to the stomach. 

Indignant, I started to defend myself... but could not think of a good example to convince the doctor I was having fun. I knew that I was having fun, but my doctor did not believe me. The gears in my head clanged and sputtered, but I could only think of one example: watching t.v. with Nathan. As I explained to my psychiatrist that Nathan and I were new parents and watching television was the most fun we could expect to have, I felt both pathetic and outraged: pathetic that I was a couch potato; outraged that my doctor expected me to be going to extreme measures to have fun when I was busy caring for a newborn.

My psychiatrist and I had that conversation eleven months ago, and holy shit, what a difference eleven months has made! Eleven months ago, I thought that in becoming a parent, I had forfeited the right to have fun. Now I know that having fun is critical to my mental health. Eleven months ago, I thought watching television was fun. Now I know that television can be relaxing and entertaining, but rarely "fun." (I make exceptions for things like Super Bowl and Oscar viewing parties.)

Eleven months ago, I had forgotten how to have fun.  The word had been erased from my vocabulary so completely, that I was startled when my shrink asked me that simple question: are you having fun?

Now I have fun every day. I often find myself thinking, "This is going to be fun!" or "That was fun!" and when the word "fun" comes to mind, I feel grateful. I am so grateful that my psychiatrist did not just prescribe a sleep aid and tell me to lose weight. I am so grateful for all the support I received from my husband, parents, siblings and friends. If my doctor had not forced me to look at my life, if my family had not supported my recovery, I might still think that it's fun to be a couch potato.

So how do I have fun these days?  I started doing Zumba a month ago - Zumba is fun! Now I find myself dancing during random moments throughout the day. I spin Pippa around the kitchen and amuse her with silly dance moves. Dancing is fun!

I took Pippa to a local indoor playground with a huge climbing structure and a big twisty slide. Pippa and I climbed up the equipment together - climbing is fun! - and then she scrambled into my lap and we whooshed down the slide together - slides are fun! Now I am plotting a trip to Raging Waters and contemplating the best way to bribe my sister to hang out with Pippa in the kiddie zone while Nathan and I go down the big slides. (Hey, Katherine, if you are reading this, I'll buy you a Lexus scooter...)

I went on a hike last weekend to celebrate my climb out of the darkness of depression  - hiking is fun! I scrambled over rocks and splashed across a stream - scrambling is fun! splashing is fun! There are lots of splash pads in the San Gabriel Valley and Pippa and I are going to play in them all summer - playing is fun!

Pippa and I are taking swim lessons - swimming is fun!

We had a family trip to the beach - the beach is fun! Building sand castles? FUN! Getting splashed by waves? Fun fun fun!

Every day, I build towers for Pippa with whatever is available - Duplo bricks, wooden blocks, Tupperware, paper bowls - and then she knocks it down and laughs hysterically. Building is fun! Laughing is fun!

Every day, Pippa chases after me, and then I chase after her, and then I hide behind a chair, and then we shriek when she finds me. It's our own version of hide-n-seek-tag, and it is FUN FUN FUN.

Before I had postpartum depression, I took the concept of fun for granted. I did a lot of things that were fun, but I did not deliberately make sure I had fun on a regular basis. When I was stressed at work, I could go days and weeks on end without having any.

Although I started to feel enormously better within 48 hours of starting Zoloft, it took months and months for me to recover. Today, as I type this, I feel as if I have recovered fully; but every month, I feel better and better. So maybe I have not fully recovered. Maybe I am still shaking off the residue of postpartum depression.

But I do know this: eleven months ago, I was not having fun. Six months ago, I was having a little fun... but not much. I was still anxious, and my anxiety made me feel reserved. Two months ago, I was having fun more often, but not exuberant fun. One month ago, I started doing Zumba, and I found myself having fun several times every day. One week ago, I rode down a big slide with Pippa and felt exuberant.

Folks, I am having fun! Life is fun! Postpartum depression stole the fun out of my life, but I have reclaimed it. I feel so energized. Having fun is not just enjoyable. It is INVIGORATING. When I have fun, my skin tingles with excitement, ideas bounce around my head, and my heart bursts with love. The fun of riding down a big slide does not end at the bottom of the slide; the exhilaration spills over the rest of my life. For example, today, while I was stuck in a traffic jam, I did not get frustrated or annoyed and pound the steering wheel, as I am wont to do. I danced. I grooved from left to right, using the steering wheel as my partner, as traffic inched forward. By having fun on a regular basis, I was able to actually enjoy a crappy moment in a traffic jam.

Now you will have to excuse me. I have to go have some fun!

Go, Me!

This morning I went on a hike as part of the Climb Out of Darkness fundraiser organized by Postpartum Progress. I hiked to celebrate my recovery from postpartum depression; I hiked to raise awareness about PPD; I hiked to help erase the stigma that haunts so many women who suffer from PPD; and I hiked to raise money to support Postpartum Progress.

I was not very aggressive in my fundraising efforts (just a few posts on Facebook) but I raised $375 - woot woot! Next year, I am going to hike again, and fair warning: I'm going to be a bit more obnoxious and post about it here, Facebook, instagram and send emails and maybe even some good old-fashioned letters seeking donations.

I learned about the hike when I was searching for organizations that help women with postpartum depression. Bad news: there are very few such organizations. As someone else mentioned on Facebook, it is easier to find grief counseling for the loss of a pet than it is to find help for the most common pregnancy complication. 

I had so much trouble finding PPD organizations that I strongly considered started a non-profit myself.  I still might! I am very impressed with Postpartum Progress, but if we are going to destroy the stigma of PPD, and help the women who need help, there need to be a lot more organizations out there. I am writing my memoir about having PPD to help raise awareness, BUT I WANT TO DO MORE. I have so many ideas percolating in my head, I sometimes have to dance to burn off the energy. (Pippa loves when mama dances like a crazy lady.)

Anyway, the hike. Women hiked in teams or they hiked alone. I hiked alone because I could not find a local team. Next year, damnit, I am spear heading Team Pasadena! (Or if someone else wants to do that, I will be their loyal sidekick and slice oranges for my fellow hikers.)

I hiked to the waterfall in Eaton Canyon Natural Area in Altadena. Nathan and I have done this hike before, so I knew it was safe and doable. Most importantly, the trail is busy with families and couples but not overcrowded. This meant I could enjoy nature and listen to birds, but I did not feel like I was in any danger of being raped by a hiking psychopath. (It's L.A. County - you have to be smart. Women have been attacked recently in Griffith Park.)

I thought a lot about my recovery from postpartum depression as I hiked. The hike truly was symbolic of my journey through the hell of depression:

• I hiked up and down. Some parts of the trail were easy and other parts made my thighs burn. My recovery sometimes felt very easy and other days, it was incredibly different.
• The trail crossed rocky stream beds, and it was sometimes unclear which way I should go. My recovery from PPD was also not straightforward and I did not always know what was the best thing to do. But I managed to reach the waterfall, and I recovered from PPD as well.
• There were other people ahead of me on the trail who I could sometimes glimpse and hear. Although I did not realize it when I was plunged into the darkness of depression, hundreds and thousands of other mamas were plodding along ahead of me. I was never alone.
• The trail sometimes split in two, and there were multiple ways to pass around a boulder or tree. There are multiple ways to kick PPD in the ass. 
• I drank plenty of water and wore sunblock and hiking shoes. I was not going to be a martyr and get a sunburn for the sake of hiking to a waterfall! The same goes for mamas - don't be a martyr because that is what society suspects. You have to take care of yourself and enjoy the journey.
• I made it to the waterfall! And I kicked PPD in the ass!
• On the way back to my car, I hiked past many fellow hikers. Some were friendly, some were not. Some people know how support a loved one who is suffering from PPD. Some do not. (And that is okay. PPD is so stigmatized and misunderstood, our loved ones do not always know how to react and be supportive.)
• Some hikers asked me how to reach the waterfall and I pointed the way. I am now trying to find ways to support mamas who are currently suffering from PPD. I recently emailed with a new mom - a total stranger - about the medication I've been taking. I hope I helped her at least a little!

I could spend all day writing about the hike and all the things it made me think about. It was so wonderful. I felt so excited as I waved goodbye to Nathan and Pippa this morning, so exhilarated as I set forth to the waterfall, and then so happy to get home and hug my baby and husband. Thank you Postpartum Progress for organizing such an inspiring event!

My Postpartum Depression: An Overview

I spend most of my writing time these days writing  my memoir about postpartum depression.  I am writing as fast as I can, but I worry about the moms who have PPD today.  I worry about the moms who are suffering now, who are scared and don't know what the hell is happening, they just know something is wrong. 

A blog entry saved me.  A blog entry made me realize that my symptoms might be postpartum depression.  So on the off chance that this helps you, let me give a quick overview of what happened to me.

Before Pippa was born, I read approximately ten paragraphs total about postpartum depression.  Enough to convince myself it would not happen to me.  I was not the sort of person who got PPD. 

My daughter was born.  I did not get the baby blues.  I congratulated myself on dodging that bullet and felt smug that I would not get PPD.  I was not that sort of person.

I felt stressed and more anxious than usual, but that was not PPD.  Right?  Women with PPD cry a lot and hate their babies.  They stay in bed all day.  I teared up a few times with joy, but I was not wallowing in tears.  I loved my daughter and got out of bed everyday to take care of her.

I rarely left the house.  When I did, it felt like an ordeal.  Like I was organizing an expedition to Mt. Everest and the moon at the same time.

I did not enjoy being around more than one or two people at a time.  When my parents, brother and sister-in-law visited on Father's Day, I felt like the house had been invaded by barbarians.  People overwhelmed me.

Pippa cried a lot and I could not comfort her.  I felt like a failure.  She seemed to be a tough unhappy miserable baby.  That was the PPD.  My unhappiness affected her.  Now she is sweet and happy and joyful (except when teething, ha!)

I quit caffeine because I thought it might be agitating Pippa.  Then I had insomnia for five weeks.  I would sleep three hours max even though Pippa was sleeping ten hours straight.  every few days, I managed to sleep for six hours - those nights convinced me I was going to be fine.  I just had severe caffeine withdrawal.  I just had to wait.

My anxiety increased.  About four months after Pippa was born, I hated being alone.  I was afraid, so afraid, as if I was being stalked by a serial killer.  My husband and parents tried reasoning with me, but I was still terrified.  My heart rate was accelerated.  Now I started crying a lot from the constant state of fear.

I lost hope.  I believed my life was over.  I had a beautiful magnificent baby and in exchange, I would never again have a good night's sleep.

I wanted to die.

I sometimes had thoughts about ways I could kill myself.  I pushed those thoughts away as quickly as possible, but they scared the shit out of me.  I sometimes had thoughts about hurting Pippa when she was crying.  I pushed those thoughts away as quickly as possible, but they scared the shit out of me even more.

I wanted to die so my suffering would end.  I wanted to die so I would not be a danger to my daughter.  I did not want to kill myself but if a fortune teller had told me I would be hit by a car and die the next day, I would have wept with relief.

I thought I did not deserve my baby and husband.  They would be better off without me.

I felt guilty.  Guilty that I could not sleep.  Guilty that I needed help from other people.  Guilty that I was always asking Nathan for reassurance. 

My anxiety felt like a backpack that had been welded to me.  I knew I had to put it down, but had no idea how to do that.

Life had also lost its color and magic.  I was depressed - but I did not realized that until AFTER I got better.  After several months of healing, I realized I had been depressed.  But when I was depressed, I could not see the depression.  At first, I could only see the insomnia.  Then, the anxiety.  Finally, the desire to die.

I went to my doctor and told her everything.  She asked me to voluntarily admit myself to the hospital.  I did.  I spent four nights there.  I started Zoloft, which I am still taking. 

I have so much I want to tell you - that's why I'm writing a book.  But if you are reading this, and it resonates with you at all, if you have even the slightest suspicion that you might have PPD, please call your doctor and ask for help.  And if your doctor is dismissive, call another doctor.  And another.  As many as it takes to get help.  YOU WILL GET BETTER.  It seems impossible now but YOU WILL GET BETTER.

If you are reading this and think a loved one might have PPD, tell them they should see a doctor.  Your loved one will thank you!

If you want to privately ask me questions, please email me at courtneyrachelhenning@gmail.com.

Life Lately

• My novel is on hold, to be revised later, because...
• I had postpartum depression and I'm writing a memoir about it.
• I have been wanting to blog about my experience with PPD for some time and finally have the courage to do it! I will post more about it here, including some excerpts from my book.
• I'm also getting involved in raising awareness about PPD.  It is an extremely common but misunderstood illness. I was very ashamed of myself for having it. I want my daughter to live in a different world - a world where no mother ever feels a drop of shame for PPD.
• I recently joined a brand new gym near my house and it is absolutely glorious. I am finally getting back into exercise and have so much energy, which is spilling into all areas of my life.
• I finished Divergent last night and started Insurgent before bed. For the first time since Pippa was born, I am reading past my bedtime.
• I started a massive crochet project this afternoon. Feeling a bit crazy. 
• In related news, I'm still reading the dictionary. I'm about halfway through the Explanatory Notes. I want to jump into the definitions, but I might as well do this right. Sometimes I have to reread the same paragraph three or four time to understand it, but it's still very interesting to me.