I never realized how strong you need to be when you're a Mom until well, I became a Mom. I can't count the million times I've wanted to completely break down and cry, only to hold it in because I don't want my daughter seeing me a complete mess. Of course, there have been a time or two that I haven't been able to hold it back though.
Today was one of those days.
Twelve years ago I brought home to most gentle, loving, happy puppy you could ever imagine. He was so cute. We were playing with him in the front yard and trying to come up with a name when he came up and licked my face. I said to him, "You're Stinky." And from then on, that's what we called him. Stinky. Stink La Dink. He was my buddy, for sure. He loved everyone so much and he had the most kind eyes you'd ever seen on a dog. He also loved, loved, loved to pee on tires.
Today, I had to put my beloved dog to sleep. He had a tumor that was rapidly growing and he was struggling in ways that he never had before. I knew that when his quality of life started to deteriorate that this is what I would have to do but that still doesn't make it any easier.
I called the vet and made an appointment for this afternoon. My brother and my dad met me there and we spent our last moments with him alive. As he was falling asleep I kept telling him that we loved him and that he's been such a good boy. We brought him home and buried him in the yard. He would have wanted to be here. I already miss him. My heart just hurts.
Sometimes, life just sucks. I know death is a part of the cycle of life but it is so hard. It just seems so unfair that he had to go. Selfishly, I wish he could have stayed here forever but I know he is now in Heaven and no longer struggling and I want that for him. I'm thankful we had so many years with him and I know he lived a very happy life. Never have I ever felt so loved by an animal as I did by Stinky.
I'm glad that my daughter is sleeping now so I can cry. And cry some more without feeling guilty. What a horribly, crappy day. Oh, and it doesn't help that my car battery died today. Three times.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Just Breathe.
"You can do it."
That's what I've been telling myself for the last almost seven months. And truth is, I can do it. I just can't do it alone. I need help.
Just like cancer, postpartum depression is an illness. A very serious illness that sometimes requires medication and therapy. Understanding that when you're the one suffering is the hard part. It's easy to struggle with feelings of inadequacy and shame. It's easy to let those feelings prevent you from seeking help. It's easy to wonder "what's wrong with me?" or "what will people think of me?" I know because I've been there. I am there. Struggling; just like you may be. I'm here to tell you that you're not the only one.
I am a first time mom to a beautiful, happy baby girl. There are two things that I wish I could have better prepared myself for before her arrival. Those two things are: coping with the amount of love I would feel for her and of course, the exhaustion. I'm sure you are wondering what I mean when I say, "...coping with the amount of love I feel for her..." and I'm not sure that is even the way I want to word what I am trying to say so I will try to explain. To make a long story short, I am naturally a worrier. I always have been and unfortunately probably always will be. I also have a very high needs baby. My worrying mixed with her health issues is the perfect recipe for a mental disaster. I obsess over her well-being. In every way possible, I want to ensure that she is going to be okay and I would do anything, literally anything, for my little girl. My body is mentally and physically exhausted from this. But I can't stop. I don't know how. I have completely frazzled myself to pieces. But like many of you, to a strangers eye, you would probably never know. It's become easy to hide behind my exhaustion, my fears, my worries, and my sadness. But it's not solving anything. None of it is going away. It's right there in front of me.
Today was my breaking point. My "I need help" day. I got up with my daughter and just like every other day, I faced our every day issues. Except this time, it was different. I couldn't do it. I couldn't deal with it anymore. If I were a drinking glass, you would have found me shattered on the floor into a million pieces. I took a deep breath and did what I had put off for so long. I picked up the phone, called my doctors office, and said the dreaded words, "I need help with postpartum depression." They squeezed me into their schedule, I talked with my doctor, and within a half hour, I had what will hopefully be a successful plan to recovery; A prescription to Zoloft that will help me calm down and effectively deal with my struggles when they occur instead of completely breaking down and being unable to find a solution and a weekly appointment with a therapist. It's just the beginning of my road to recovery but it's something. I took my first steps and for the first time in months, I have hope. I no longer feel ashamed or embarrassed because this is me and this is who I am. I am a wonderful mother to my daughter. My illness doesn't change that and it won't define who I am.
Below is a link to an online PPD support page but I also encourage you to talk with family, friends, a therapist, and especially your doctor if you feel you may be struggling with this as well. You are not alone and you don't have to go through this alone.
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