I'm talking the big "D"

The “D” word. Yup. The big “D”. No, not divorce. Depression. I’ve got it. No real shocker you say. After all you lost a baby, of course you’re depressed. Well, according to some they may think it’s all just part of the grief cycle.

I just want to say…Bull. When you know yourself, and how you feel normally everyday (good and bad), you know when something isn’t right. I knew I was sad and grieving the loss of our baby, but the way I had been feeling lately was much, much more than that.

My symptoms: I cried all the time. At least, whenever I could be alone. I tried really hard not to cry too much in front of the kids. I didn’t want to scare them. Also, I completely withdrew. From everyone and everything! This included the people who loved me most, my hubby and my kids. I just didn’t even want to be around them. How horrible is that?!?! I couldn’t enjoy the Christmas season with them. I didn’t decorate the house, make cookies, sing carols…nothing! Luckily hubby is so involved with the kids he picked up all the slack. Have I mentioned I’m married to the best guy in the world?

The clincher symptom for me was when I started wanting to live a completely different life. I mean totally different from where I was at the time. I live near the city…I wanted to live far out in the country, I mean really, really rural! I didn’t want to be married anymore. Well, c’mon that’s just not right. I mean, sure there are days when I say he’s a stinkin’ you know what, but you work that out. Married 15 years, now. I didn’t want my kids to go to the school they were in, I didn’t want to drive the car I had. I had a fantasy life building up in my head.

I knew I needed help when I decided I couldn’t live like this anymore and actually asked my husband to leave. He was smart. He didn’t cave. He knew it wasn’t “me” talking. He talked me through it, and I realized that I was literally out of my mind. That was the final straw for me. The “lightbulb” moment when I knew I would probably need some kind of medication to help me. So, I went to a Psychiatrist, who did a long analysis of what I had been going through, how long I had been feeling this way, and made some suggestions. Medication. Therapy. Both. I asked for medication. We went through the list of drugs, and decided on Wellbutrin SR. This is a slow release drug that did a world of wonders for me.

I started it right away. A small dose, and started to feel better within just a few days. WOW!! I couldn’t believe the difference. All those negative thoughts that had been rushing around in my head, had completely disappeared. It was almost too good to be true. But, it wasn’t. It was real, and for the first time I felt like my “real” self.

I’m not embarrassed that I need this. I don’t feel ashamed. I’m proud to tell anyone my experience in hopes of it helping someone else. So riddle me this? Why is there still such a stigma associated with mental health? No one whispers in hushed tones if they have diabetes, or low cholesterol. For crying out loud…how many erectile dysfunction commercials do I have to see on TV and no one’s snickering at them?

So my point is don’t be worried about taking a medication for your health problems. Even if health insurance and all those people out there have got it all wrong!!! Eventually I think this sector of health will become as widely covered as fertility (which may not be saying much, but at least it would be a start).

Crazy in the head,
Onegirliegirl

Miscarriage: Part 3, The emotional damage

I promise this one won't be as gory as the last one, but it will have a few details in it. I had foolishly been thinking just a few days before all the bleeding, how my losing the baby never felt "real" because there didn't seem to be any discomfort, pain, or real bleeding. HaHaHaHa!

What I didn't realize after the bleeding had stopped was the emotions that I would be facing. I had already come to understand that I was no longer growing this tiny being inside my body. Before the dispeling incident of "chicken parts" out of my body, it didn't seem like the baby was gone. But during my time in the shower with huge clots passing thru me, to the point of feeling like afterbirth over and over, I understood that there was no more baby.

This was when my depression really set in. I had trouble getting these visions out of my head. The emotional pain of it all was more than I could bear. I completely withdrew. From. Everyone.

Try to imagine a Christmas with 4 young children and you could care less what's going on around you. I couldn't focus on anything. I cried all the time (or at least whenever I was alone...the shower, the car, in bed). I didn't want to be in my house. I didn't want to talk to anyone, see anyone, really even be anyone. Not that I was suicidal, I wasn't. I just didn't want my life. Plain and simple. I wanted to be Alice, working at Mel's diner with friends who totally understood me, and a son who always did the right thing. I didn't want the stress of real life, so I left it behind. I started to live in a fantasy world where everything was the complete opposite of where I was at that moment.

I didn't want to be married, I didn't want to live where I lived, didn't want the car I drove, didn't even want my kids. Man, that's hard to admit. I hadn't stopped loving them, I just didn't want what I had. I couldn't appreciate anything.

I don't remember Christmas last year. Not at all, really. I couldn't tell you what big items the kids got, or even who I saw. Actually I'm pretty sure I didn't see anyone, because I couldn't face people. I knew if they saw me, they'd want to acknowledge the loss of the baby and I just didn't want to talk about it. I couldn't even talk to my girlfriends whom I've known forever. They were no longer the light at the end of my tunnel. I couldn't see thru my tunnel, it had become so dark. After weeks of these feelings I realized that this was not the normal grieving process. I was prepared to give myself "some time", but this definately wasn't right. I knew I needed help and quickly. I just couldn't go on like this.

So I did. I got help. I am on medication and it has made a world of difference. I hope this testament will help someone who is suffering and may not know if they need help. Read this story and open yourself up to the option that you are not just grieving (as my OBGYN thought). I knew myself and listened to my inner self. Go with your gut and know you are not alone. Your suffering does not need to go on indefinately. Don't be embarrased as so many are today.

Next: Why is there such a stigmatism with mental health and medication?

Physical Trauma

Warning: This episode of my story is not for those who do not want to hear all about “female things”, it’s not pretty…You’ve been warned.

Conveniently, the procedure had happened on a Thursday, so by Sunday I was feeling fine and was able to do my regular routine. Oddly on Monday, in the very early hours I was having some really heavy cramping and the bleeding had increased….hmmmm. I told hubby about it and he said he would go get some pads for me (of course I was out) after I took the kids to school (I figured I could handle the 10 min. roundtrip to get the kids there).

Our usual morning routine for school, was eat, brush teeth and drive 10 mins. down the road to school. I went to the bathroom before leaving…just to check on the bleeding…it was heavier, hmmm strange. BTW, I was totally out of pads, but didn’t think I’d need anymore, since all the bleeding had stopped. By the time I got in the car to drive the kids to school. I could tell I was having a problem after we had driven about a mile. There was this huge pressure in my nether region. You know, when something wants to come out, but you’re desperately trying to hold it in, wink, wink. I get to school and drop the boys off…it’s car to door service, so I don’t ever have to get out of the car.

I call hubby and tell him, I can’t wait until later for him to go get something, I’ll just swing by the grocery store on my way home. I get to the parking lot, park and get out of my car. Standing up was my mistake! Everything comes out. Note to the men: graphic language here, sorry. I figure the store’s empty I can run in, pay self serve and run out. I walk into the store and feeling a big gush I look down to see I’m leaving a trail of blood on the floor behind me. Now let me just state that I am not dizzy, light headed or pale. So I know I’m not hemorrhaging. I’m just completely embarrassed. I turn around quickly and leave the store. I call hubby and catch him up on what’s going on. Now try to understand that I can tell this isn’t just a “flow”, there are clots releasing themselves from me to come out. It only takes me 4 mins. to get home. By this time I have bled through my pants, onto the car seat cover (get ‘em) and need to get in the shower immediately!

Meanwhile, I tell hubby call my Dr.s office to report what is going on, because I have no idea WHY this is happening. As I get undressed I see these large clots and have to dump them. I jump in the shower and can feel more things coming! I have to yell at hubby to bring me a bowl so I have a way to collect and dump all the “chicken innards” coming out of me. That’s what it looks like, and I have to say, I’m getting a little freaked out! What the fuck is going on. Everything was fine. I can tell there’s no baby in this stuff, but seriously WTF!!!

The nurse gets on the phone with me, and I explain what’s been happening for the last hour, now. She says come in right away and they’ll look. Oh great, I get to pick new pants to bleed through. So quickly I get dressed, wrap a beach towel around me, and drive to the office. Oh get over it, of course I could drive. Remember, there are 2 little one’s home still.

To make this long story a little shorter…the clots have stopped at this point, and the bleeding goes back to it’s very minimal amount that it had been prior to this morning.

It turns out fibroids are tricky little suckers. They can bleed on you. So after my DNC the fibroid had bled, pooled because I was lying down for a couple days, and then needed to expel itself.

Next time: The emotional damage.

Losing

As I drove home, don’t worry I waited until the hysteria had stopped, all I could think about was that the baby inside me was no longer living! That is about the craziest thing I’ve ever had to wrap my mind around. Let me start by explaining that even though the baby’s heart had stopped beating nearly 10 days prior, I still felt pregnant. I was still having my morning (evening) sickness, had already gained a ton of weight (yeah, weird), major league gas (clear the room) and was extremely tired. Oh yes, the cruel irony is that I had been able to enjoy that morning sickness and not being able to eat for 10 days even though technically, I wasn’t pregnant. Evidently the body still makes all those pregnancy hormones leading you into a false sense of security. My false sense of security! Believe me, I had thought about the possibilities of the pregnancy not going full term. After all, I was 40 years old and no spring chicken. But I didn’t REALLY think that it would happen to me. I was thinking like a foolish teenager who thought they could drive home after having one too many beers…Yeah, it happens, but not to me. Crash!!! Fatality - 1.

The next day was my birthday (Oh Joy!). Since I’d had no cramping or bleeding, my Dr. wanted to do a DNC as soon as possible. I let him know I just couldn’t do it on my birthday, so we scheduled it for 2 days later. I didn’t make a cake.

After I got home, hubby and I had the unpleasant task of telling our children. Yes, we are one of those couples that can’t wait to share our news and pretty much call everyone from the bathroom, after the stick shows us the plus sign. Now I know plenty of you are saying, “See, that’s why you should always wait”. Honestly, I just can’t do it. For one, I’m a terrible liar, I am always just ridiculously happy, I can’t keep something like that from my BFF and after waiting so long to have children and all the troubles we had gone through just to have our first, this is who we are. Don’t be hatin’.

The 2 oldest, Jack and Finn took it especially hard. They remember what it's like having babies and look forward to it every time. Dunn and Kelly really didn’t get it and were pretty much like “ok”. I didn't make a cake.

So we get to the day of “the procedure”. I’m nervous and don’t want to talk, even in the car when it’s just me and hubby. We arrive and everything goes “smoothly”. I get home and stay in bed for the rest of the day, and half of the next. No real pain, and some very slight, I mean slight bleeding. At this point I’m thankful that it didn’t have to be a big physical and painful reminder. Until the next day... which changed me forever!

To be continued.

Not a Celebratory Anniversary

I’m coming up on an Anniversary. It isn’t one I’ll celebrate, but it is one that I’ll always hold in my heart. November 26th is the one year Anniversary of my one and only lost (as in no longer pregnant) baby.

I was 12 weeks along and was going in for a diagnostic sonogram because I was measuring 4 wks. larger than my gestational period. This was normal for me ever since I became pregnant with baby #2 when I developed a fibroid. Fibroids will enlarge due to hormones during pregnancy, and shrink back down after birth. For me, it never caused any problems except the oh-look-she’s-4 months-pregnant (when in reality I was only 3) stares, and necessary early maternity clothes. To top it all off I carry big anyway. Go ahead, laugh.

So to me this was just another sonogram to see how large the fibroid was, and make sure everything was fine. I had had a previous sonogram the month before, just to date the pregnancy officially, and due to my AMA (advanced maternal age), see how everything looked.

Yes, just 4 weeks prior, the baby’s heartbeat was “strong” and we looked good to go!! But, on November 26th after I hop up on the table, and she turned the machine on – with sound- I saw and heard a flat-line, under the picture of the baby. I can’t explain it but even though I knew what it meant, I instantaneously pushed that thought away and rationalized that she was checking the blood flow in the cord, or something like that. I didn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything. I didn’t look at her. She quickly turned the sound off. But I knew. I waited. I waited for her to tell me everything was fine. I waited for her to start taking measurements. I waited for something, anything.

After about 3 minutes I just looked at her and said “There’s no heartbeat is there?” She said “No Sweetie, there isn’t.”

I laid there quietly. Still. Hardly breathing. I still thought the baby would suddenly move around…like it had been holding it’s breath. Not dead. It couldn’t be. I’ve never lost a baby. 4 pregnancies…4 babies. This was number 5, why would it be any different? But it was.

I managed to hold it together, throught the measuring and chronicling of the baby. All I really wanted to do was run out of there screaming No, No, No.

Luckily my preferred Dr. was in that office on that day. I got to see him, which was some comfort since we have a history. We talked about the options of what to do, why it happened and how to proceed.

Mind you, I’m still holding it together. My Dr. handles everything, and I am free to go. Until I see him in another 2 days for the DNC. I get in the parking lot, pull out my cell and call hubby. Instantly, this is when I lose it. Completely. I’m amazed he understood anything I said. Although, when your wife is calling you after a sonogram appt. and she’s hysterical, you pretty much know it’s not good.

Come back as I share more of the details on what went wrong…so very wrong.