Depression---The Gift That Keeps Giving!

When I gave birth to my son back in 2002, I had an inkling that I would develop postpartum depression. Nothing prepared me though, for when I actually was hit with it.

I went into labor with Steve naturally; water broke, called doctor, left for hospital. No big deal. I should have known when we entered the ER and no one stopped me even to offer the wheelchair they are required to get, that things would not go as planned. And they didn't.

Apparently when my water broke, blood also accompanied it. Lovely. They decided to just keep an eye on it. Then my epidural wouldn't take. I told the lovely nurse who should have retired 20 years ago, and she basically told me to shut up and don't bother her. Well, in her own way, but I got the message. Well, the epidural doctor comes in and shoots me up again. Didn't work again, and now he's in a emergency c-section, so it'll be about an hour before he can come back. Actually, I didn't find the pain that bad. I was more scared about should it get worse and I haven't had the epidural, what will I do? Oh, and in the middle of this, my son decides he doesn't particularly care for labor. How does he show us this? By his heartrate divebombing. I had oxygen on my face for him, and several nurses who kept moving me from side to side, and in the interim, one nurse kept trying to get a fetal monitor on his head. I shouldn't say ONE nurse, because several ended up trying, but no one succeeded. I swore that everyone had seen me naked by that point. My mom came in during that time, and she finally was able to get me to relax. No one would tell me what the hell was going on, and I am still pissed off about that to this day. Luckily my doctor was in the hospital when the nurses called her. She came right up,and told me I needed an emergency c-section. Fine by me. She pushed back the hysterectomy she was scheduled to perform, and got to work on me.

In the OR, I was upset that the conversation was centered around the assisting doctor's divorce. Up until my c-section, I didn't even know he was getting divorced. I just found it so unprofessional, and just plain rude, for him to talk like that when Iwas going through surgery and awaiting my miracle. Luckily, the anestesioligst talked me through the whole procedure. What a nice man.

The next thing I knew I was feeling, really feeling, a lot of tugging, and then my son was born. I remember telling Jeff how huge he was. I mean Steve had chub on him the moment he came out! Then they told me his Apgar scores, 8 and 9, and wisked him away like he was a preemie needing to go to the NICU. So much for bonding. Jeff went with him, and I was alone with the doctors for almost an hour while they stitched me up. Not quite the H*llmark moment you see on A Ba*y Story.

I immediately requested pain meds. as my mom was a nurse at that hospital and she told me you always ask for them before you get into pain. They're more effective that way. Well, my nurse, I'll call her Nurse Ratchett, said she ordered them. A while later I started to feel more pain, so I asked her again. She proceeded to go through her 'How to care for a baby' demonstration. Yah, a mere two hours after I'd given birth. So my request for meds. was ignored. Instead, she yelled at me for not paying attention to her. I could not reply because I was in too much pain. I had tears coming down my face, and I looked to my mom and asked her to talk to the nurse. If you are wondering right now if my husband was there, yes he was, utterly useless at this point. Anyway, I hear my mom talk to the nurse about my pain. My mom asked her if she was going to get me something for pain. Her reply," I ONLY HAVE TWO HANDS!". Yes, she seriously said this. So she had lied about ordering my meds. in the first place. Finally, I am given some Toradol. It didn't help. It took morphine to finally control my pain; my pain was too far gone at that point. Nurse Ratchett proceeds to yell at me when I asked about the meds. effectiveness to control pain. She told me, "You can't expect it to be like the epidural. It won't take ALL the pain away! I hated this woman. She made me feel bad about her having to change my pads; sorry I'm bleeding lady, but I think this is pretty normal after having a baby! I won't go into any more specifics, but let's just say, this lady made me feel like the worst patient ever. Like I was BOTHERING her. At this time, my mom looked at my husband and said,"The hospital believes in continuity of care. If we don't say anything, Bev will have her every day until she's discharged, and I don't want her near her again. Will you come with me to talk to the charge nurse about it?" And you know what? My husband wouldn't go. He hates confrontation. Well, I do too, but no one will ever treat my loved one like that. I thank God my mom was there. She almost wasn't. She was just released a week before from the hospital herself after having several blood clots in her lungs, and almost dying.

I never did have Nurse Ratchett again, but she came in my room every day to 'check on me'. AKA, cover her ass. I am having nightmares already about having Nurse Ratchett again. My SIL, brother's wife, and my dad plan on being there with me so I do not experience that type of care again. Jeff, I love him to pieces, but I just don't trust that he'll intervene if necessary. I actually thought of changing doctors so I could deliver at a different hospital and avoid a repeat of my last birth. Sad, huh?!

Why did I tell this story? What does it have to do with PPD? Well, I had nightmares for months about what happened to me. I attribute part of my PPD to my birthing experience. I did not HAVE to have a natural birth. I did not have a detailed birth plan. I just wanted to be treated with respect and like a human being.

I did have a bout with the baby blues when I got home from the hospital. I remember Jeff bringing Steve to me in the mornings saying he needed me. I was so tired, and in pain, that I just didn't even feel like holding my son. Bonding? Yah, that was shot to hell. I think I had problems with bonding because of being in labor for a day, then having an emergency c-section, and having him whisked away from me without even being able to look at or touch him. Why wasn't I able to ? They wanted him to be ID'd right away. Security. To cover their butts, just in case.

About 10 days after Steve's birth, I started feeling better. The sun was shining, and we were taking him to his first peds. appt. Everything went great. It was great to be out of the house! Plus, Jeff was still home, and he is wonderful with infants and children, so he was really a huge help. That same day, my dad came over. My mom was just pronounced terminal. Her last scan showed the cancer had now spread to her liver. She had 6-9 months to live. After my dad left, I went upstairs and cried. Steve was asleep next to our bed in the cradle my mom bought for him, and I just wept. I couldn't believe I just became a mother and now I find out I am losing my own. Moms, most, just offer an unconditional love that no one else can or does, not even your husband. I was still not trusting Jeff to take care of me, because of my experience at the hospital. I harbored a lot of resentment over that. I have come to terms with it, and Jeff and I have had many discussions about it. I just didn't know what I would do without my mother. I knew I was 29 years old, but I still needed my mommy! Besides that, my mom was only 51. We always thought we were going to have so much time together. I was so hurt and angry.

That weekend I was depressed in a way I had never been before. I believe I was depressed when we went through all the infertility, but this was worse. I was so mad my mom was dying. I was so mad that I didn't feel like an instant mother, especially after all we'd been through to have him. I have never in my life felt so alone, so dark, so awful before, and I was scared. I remember telling Jeff one night that I just wanted to go away. I did NOT want to die. I just wanted to go away until things got better.

That Tuesday I called and went to see the therapist I had seen before the birth. She agreed with me that I needed help. That I was miserable. I called my OB as soon as I got home. He talked with me, and agreed that I was depressed. He told me to come to the office, and a month's supply of Zoloft would be there waiting for me.

Zoloft helped my depression, as did talking over my fears WITH my mom; she lost her mom at 29 so she understood where I was coming from. Plus, my MIL, God bless her for doing this, came every Tuesday so I could go to therapy and have a few hours for myself. I cannot tell you how much this helped. During one of those Tuesdays she was there, my mom had a good day and suggested we go Christmas shopping. My mom and I had a blast, and knew this would be the last Christmas we would be together, so it was even more special. I know my MIL had ulterior motives sometimes, and really can be quite irritating at times, but I will be forever grateful to her for being there for me so that day could happen.

I did have a problem with Zoloft though. I couldn't sleep. I hate to admit this, but I would have to take a Valium every night to get myself relaxed enough to sleep. Well, I read the patient insert and saw that this was a common side effect. Therefore, I placed a call to my doctor. I told him my son is sleeping through the night, I'd like to as well. He told me to double the Zoloft; he felt it was my depression that was keeping me awake. I really felt it wasn't, but I gave it a try. I was right. So I decided to lower my dose back to where it was on my own. If you are ever on ADs, don't EVER do this. In a few weeks time I had really messed myself up. I was feeling worse than ever. I found a new doctor, or should I say my mom did. LOVE my mom! I am now on Paxil CR, and it has been a life-saver. Not a cure-all, but it definelty helped me immensley. Less than two months later, my mom died. I stayed on the Paxil. It helped me to get through her last three weeks, her wake and funeral. I saw things that my mom went through, and I hope none of you ever have to see or go through that yourselves. I still have nightmares about that. I'll talk about that in another entry, bet you can't wait!

On a final note about depression, please don't ever feel upset with yourself if you have it. I never wanted to take an antidepressant. I felt I could handle things on my own. Taking an AD is like being weak. And will I end up taking them the rest of my life?! Going through PPD and my subsequent depression has led me to not care about that all. I know that because I got help, I am strong. I did it for my son as much as for myself. He needs a healthy mother; he DESERVES that much. I didn't intend on getting depressed; didn't plan on it. It's just like my therapist said,"You had a lot of things go on in your life all at once. Major things." I had a traumatic birth experience, the death of my mom, among some other minor things. But basically, I lost my mother, my best girlfriend. If that doesn't get you depressed, what can?