Category: Motherhood

No expiration date

~ K ~ Leave a comment

I should probably do a review of previous blog posts and strike out anything I don’t believe anymore. This blog is 13 years old and I’ve evolved, changed, and grown, especially on the topic of homosexuality.

I started this blog after depression introspection to talk about all things personal. Nonsensical and random, really. Depression introspection focused solely on the topic of mental health. This blog was about me. My thoughts. My feelings. It still IS about me no matter how rarely I use it.

These past few years have been a whirlwind. I’ve blogged about it here and there from time to time, but a full update is overdue.

I have 2 kids: a son and a daughter. My husband and I have been together for almost 19 years. After going through a season of infertility for so long and trying to conceive, it is weird to be in a stage of life where I’m no longer actively pursuing building a family. My family is built. And I feel complete.

I left a job I was at for 5 years to pursue a new opportunity that I thought would help me grow. It did help me grow, and I’m grateful for the experience, but…I didn’t even last a full year at the job. It wasn’t a good fit for me. But I learned new things and expanded my knowledge so I don’t regret my time there.

Now I’m at a new job where I’ve been working for a little over 3 months. I…love it. It has a great work/life balance, I get paid more, and the people I work with (from bottom to top) are completely awesome. I love my boss and his boss and his boss. No one in my department seems too haughty to work with, and I appreciate that people—especially upper management—are available and accessible to everyone. And everyone seems to have a vital role and isn’t just there for the sake of being there.

I mentioned this in early 2020, but we bought a house. It’s open concept and spacious, but it feels kinda small (in terms of bedroom space) ever since the pandemic. My office is open office (like an office setting, I suppose), which doesn’t allow for much privacy. But I make it work somehow.

I’m thinking about getting a dog. My son is deathly afraid of dogs and needs to get over his fear. He is scared to wait at the bus stop because one of the parents of a kid at the bus stop walks their dog at the same time. Of course, the one dog I introduced him to at 3 was not a dog friendly to kids and that has traumatized him ever since.

I just finished potty training my daughter. She still hasn’t gotten the hang of number 2, but she’ll get it in time. I’m never potty training a kid again.

I’m sure there’s more news that I’m not thinking of, but that’s the update on my life. Myself, job, family, and home.

Friends? They’re around somewhere…

PPD: Women who overcome infertility are not immune

~ K ~ Leave a comment

sad_mother

Most people don’t think of postpartum mood issues (in short, PPD) in relation to infertility. I sure didn’t.

I’ve written numerous times (here, here, and here) over the years about my struggle with infertility. It was a struggle of 4+ years and I dreamed that once I had my child, all would be right with the world. The dream I had desired for so long would come true and I would get to hold my baby in my arms and love him immediately.

Because I have struggled with bipolar disorder and anxiety issues in the past, I was a prime candidate for suffering from PPD. But I tried to remain optimistic. A baby is what I had long wanted. I would get it; PPD be damned.

Often, you hear the stories about how women overcome infertility and their dream of having a child comes true. And it’s the best thing ever. They instantly fall in love with the baby of their dreams and everything seems wonderful except for that darned newborn period when you don’t get sleep. (But that’s pretty much everybody, right?)

What about the stories of women who struggle with infertility and then get PPD? No one talks about them. We feel guilty because for so long we wanted a child and now that we’ve received one, we don’t feel a bond. We don’t feel a connection. We worry too much about hurting the dream we had so longed for. We lose touch with reality and nearly harm our child or even ourselves. Panic attacks over losing our baby or taking care of our baby are a daily occurrence. Or we simply cannot get out of bed, too depressed to care for this human being who is completely and totally dependent on us.

Then there’s the added guilt of knowing that there are mothers—tons of other mothers—who are silently suffering the loss of what could be. Many mothers grieving month after month over not having a child. And here we are, finally over that hurdle. And we feel horrible. We don’t want this child. We don’t care for it. Take it away. I don’t want to see it. I’m a bad mother; I can’t care for this kid. But there are so many women who want a baby just like I have one. I have to love this kid—for them.

But those who suffer from PPD after infertility should know they are not alone. The internal pressure we give ourselves to be happy during (what should be) a joyous occasion can often be a tight cord around our neck. It’s OK to admit that after your years-long struggle that you’re not exactly overjoyed to be holding that “bundle of joy” in your arms. What’s NOT OK is pretending that everything is fine and trying to suck it up. This isn’t the time to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. This is the time to seek help. And there is no shame in admitting that you’re feeling sad, anxious, or worried about your mental health.

Reading this and don’t know where to turn? Here are a few resources:

  • Postpartum Progress – Katherine Stone runs this advocacy organization to help raise awareness about postpartum issues among mothers, clinicians, and the general population. You can also discover great information via the Postpartum Progress blog.
  • Postpartum Support International – Another organization that helps guide women through the changes surrounding them during the postpartum period. It offers resources, such as a toll-free hotline specifically catering to those with postpartum mental health needs.
  • Postpartum Stress Center – This center provides professional support to women suffering from postpartum mood issues. It’s worth noting that PPD tends to be a catch-all abbreviation for conditions such as depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar disorder, and psychosis, to name a few. The Stress Center tends to serve residents in the eastern PA area but will help those outside of the region find a local resource.

Remember, PPD can affect anyone, infertile or not. Don’t be afraid to seek help as soon as you recognize that something isn’t right. The sooner you get help (even if you think it’s just the baby blues), chances are, you’ll recover more quickly. Get your life back. Get help today.

Damn, you’re a good mother.

~ K ~ 1 Comment

mom_mugI bought this mug from knockknockstuff.com, which was originally intended to be a gift mug for Mother’s Day (to another mom). (The back says “Just look how I turned out.”) But I bought this mug for myself, placed it squarely in view on my desk to tell myself each and every day, “Damn, you’re a good mother.”

I have to admit, however, that almost every time I look at the mug, I want to grab it and hurl it against the wall because I don’t believe it. This is my lame attempt to speak truth into my life. And my heart can’t accept it and won’t allow it. Because in my mind, I am not a good mother. I bordered on postpartum psychosis the first time I held my son, dealt with severe postpartum depression for months, and lost time with him for about 20 months. That’s time that I’ll never get back. How could I have been a good mother? A better mother even?

I could run down a list of shortcomings:

  • Full-time working mom with many late nights
  • Previously hands off on his care (eg, creating meals for him, diaper changes, watching him by myself)
  • Daycare (instead of me) teaches him most everything he knows

Beatles_sgtpepper_t-shirt The only plus in my column toward being a good mother? He can say “George” and “Paul” from my Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band t-shirt. (We’re working on John and Ringo.) I think that makes me a serious kick-ass mom. That’s how I justify my terrible shortcomings.

It’s the “damn” part that gets me, I suppose. The idea that I’m so awesome and so amazing, it warrants the use of an (OK, mild) expletive. Perhaps I could tolerate “You’re a good mother.” But “Damn, you’re a good mother” says “Look at me! I’m so awesome that I’m kicking ass at this mothering thing!” Like a black dude looks at another black woman and says, “Damn, you fine!” This mug looks at me and says in a similar tone, “Damn, you’re a good mother.” I’m glad the mug has a period. An exclamation point would probably have been overkill for me.

So, here I am, stumbling and fumbling through this mothering thing, feeling inadequate while I have this mug that tries to tell me otherwise. I can pretend my son gave it to me. The back—”Just look at how I turned out”—speaks volumes. My son is healthy and simply the happiest kid on earth. Sure, he’s a toddler with his whiny, crying phases but he’s the happiest kid in his classroom and the teachers all insist that he doesn’t give them any problems.

I’ve been very hands off this mothering thing until recently. I don’t know whether I’m doing a good job. But I’m in his life and he’s made it almost 22 months so far, so I guess I’m a damn good mother.

Philadelphia Climb/Hope

~ K ~ 2 Comments

You turn the radio on
Play your favorite song
And cry
(Cry)
~Sarah McLachlan: In Her Shoes~

I’m battling. Warrior mom FTW (For The Win).

I want to share how my day at the Philadelphia Climb Out of the Darkness event went. It was fantastic.

ClimbOutI met several amazing and inspiring women who had been through some form of perinatal or postpartum mood and anxiety disorder. It meant a lot to me because the women there were able guide me out of darkness and into light. Even, if only, for a few hours. I was able to watch children happily run around, share my story with other women, and receive an amazing massage. I also was able to receive 3 hours of doula care from Main Line Doulas. I connected with a sweet n’ sassy counselor at the Postpartum Stress Center. The event organizer for Philadelphia, Heidi, is an amazing woman who encouraged me with her own story of climbing out of the darkness. And to meet Heidi’s mom, the official photographer, was such a blessing because it reminded me that we all can find support from somewhere.

YahooOutlook

I was originally supposed to meet up with a more local group at Valley Forge but due to communication issues (I’m looking right at you, Yahoo! Mail), I missed out. But that’s all right because I connected with the climb leader, Christy, who is A-MAY-ZING. My husband believes I was able to make a better connection with her as a result of my email snafu, and I have to say it’s been a blessing just getting to know her.

I have to recognize several women in my postpartum journey who have helped me above and beyond their call of duty: in person—my mother-in-law, Chris and my friends Rachael D., Karen W., Christine R., and K.C.; online—A’Driane, Lauren, and the many, many of you who left positive uplifting comments in my blog post, Heaven Can Wait.

Today was a difficult day. I was depressed from the moment I woke up (thank God the baby was with the grandparents overnight) and I could barely get out of bed to brush my teeth and shower. Life just seems so bleak. So many women have echoed in my ears, “It gets better,” and I really hope it does. I’m holding onto the hope of other women.

You turn the radio on
Play your favorite song
And sing out
So loud
~Sarah McLachlan: In Her Shoes~

 

Hanging on by a thread

~ K ~ 2 Comments

Still struggling.

Feeling hopeless. Like a disappointment. Like a failure.

Having someone take care of my son part-time feels like a failure on my part. Like I can’t hack this mom thing.

Oh, and I just got my yearly reminder in the mail: I have a frozen embryo on tap. What do I want to do with it?

I want to discard it. Because I can’t imagine that I can be a good mother a second time around. I’m having a hard time being a good mom THIS time around.

But I won’t. My morals (belief in the value of life and all that jazz) won’t let me do that.

Postpartum depression, anxiety, OCD—all of it—has taken a hold of my soul and won’t let go. I have cried several times this week. More times than I’ve cried since the sixth week of my son’s life.

The screechy crying. It’s like the wail of a dying baby. It never ceases to freak me out. I feel like such a horrible mom for strapping him into the car seat while he’s crying and then the high-pitched wail reverberates through the car sending figurative splinters under my nails.

I still have thoughts of suicide but little impulse to act upon it. Right now.

I’m still here.

https://thisjourneyismyown.wordpress.com/selected-lyrics/by-a-thread/

In search of an identity… motherhood.

~ K ~ 1 Comment

I’m a mother now. After nearly 5 years of waiting, a dream has come true. But I’m afraid. So many women become moms and their identity is swallowed up in their children. They forget they are individuals with likes and dislikes and revolve their worlds around their kids.

I don’t want that to be me. I want to continue being the Kass I was before I got pregnant without the incessant melancholy over infertility. However, I do want to pursue my own interests and take time to care for myself and feed my soul. I want to expand my interests and seek new horizons.

  • I still want to be a part of the battle for others to overcome infertility.
  • I want to champion awareness of mental illness: PPD, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, ADHD, OCD, depression, anxiety, and many other mood disorders.
  • I want to expand my horizons professionally and attend conferences that will challenge me, engage me, and help me grow.
  • I want to expand my horizons personally by connection with supportive women online and offline.
  • I want to support non-profit organizations wholeheartedly, e.g., Postpartum Progress, Food for the Hungry, International Justice Mission, and Amnesty International.
  • I want to educate the wider Christian community about fertility options and treatments.
  • I want to enjoy my work as a library assistant.
  • I want to enjoy my work as a freelance editor.
  • I want to be a loving, supportive wife.
  • I want to be able to splurge (occasionally) on myself.

I don’t want my identity to revolve around my son (as cute as he is).

I know, I know, I’m a Christian so my identity should be based on Christ. Perhaps it’s better to say that I don’t want my personality to be swallowed up by motherhood. The following is a list of things I plan to do for me—to remind myself life isn’t just about my son:

  • I plan on treating a friend (and myself) to a massage for relaxation.
  • I plan on registering for the Warrior Mom conference that takes place in 2015.
  • I plan on being in a wedding in August.
  • I plan on attending another friend’s wedding in August
  • I plan on going to an editorial conference in September.
  • I plan on attending an editor’s conference in March 2015.

I hope to enjoy life more. I want to blog more. A lot of people would add travel to that list. Nope, not me; I’m a happy homebody. I’ll see the Eiffel Tower on the Internet and not deal with turbulence on an airplane over the ATLANTIC OCEAN, kthxbai.

I want to see Justin Timberlake in concert again but not by myself. Alas, some dreams aren’t meant to be realized.

My experience with postpartum depression (PPD)

~ K ~ 2 Comments

My postpartum depression (PPD) was instant. The day my son was born—after my placenta was taken out—my pregnancy hormones plummeted and my emotions went off a cliff.

I cried nearly every day for the first 5 weeks of my son’s life. What should have been a happy, joyous time in my life was filled with overwhelming sadness and hopelessness. I felt guilty about everything:

  • I didn’t know how to take care of this being who was so completely dependent upon me
  • I had waited so long for him but was unable to enjoy him
  • I was failing not only as a mother but also a wife

The characteristics of PPD? You name it, I had it.

  • Constant crying
  • Feelings of hopelessness
  • Feelings of worthlessness
  • Scary thoughts
  • Trouble bonding
  • Guilt
  • Anger
  • Sadness
  • Suicidal thoughts

And very many other things.

People encouraged me to have confidence as a mother but I now recognize that confidence is something that develops over time. I’m more confident with my son 9 weeks postpartum but I’ll probably feel ever better 19 weeks postpartum.

I like to think I’m out of the woods with PPD. Feelings of intense sadness, hopelessness, and worthlessness have gone away. Scary thoughts have mostly disappeared. Panic attacks, which used to be frequent, have become rare. But I’m not out of the woods yet. I’m still adjusting to this motherhood thing. I’m still afraid of hurting my son. Sometimes I’m afraid that I made the biggest mistake of my life—one that I can never undo.

I frequently don’t feel up to the challenge of being a mother. Even though it requires very little from me (eg, changing diapers, bottle feeding), it feels as though I have to give the world.

I want to enjoy motherhood—fully and completely. Although I have glimmers and moments, I’m still very scared to be alone with my son. I am highly dependent upon others to help me take care of him.

In one sense, that’s great—I have a supportive and loving community. On the other hand, I feel like a complete and utter loser.

I’m still in the middle of my PPD journey. Nine weeks postpartum and I’ve made some progress. But I have a long way to go.

My Pregnancy Story: Difficulties and Challenges

~ K ~ Leave a comment

The majority of my pregnancy was difficult. Although I wasn’t on complete bed rest, a perinatologist (er, ultrasound doctor) evaluating my case recommended partial bed rest.

Where to begin? Continue reading “My Pregnancy Story: Difficulties and Challenges” →

Learning to Love My Son

~ K ~ 4 Comments

This post isn’t exactly fun to write, but I am making it public in the hopes that it might help someone who may feel similarly. I’ve been seeing posts written by other women about the topic of postpartum adjustments and it feels important to add my voice to the mix. Continue reading “Learning to Love My Son” →

My Son’s Birth Story

~ K ~ 4 Comments

The following post recounts how my son was born. It gets detailed at times in terms of body language but that’s just par for the course in describing these kinds of stories. Buckle in; it’s a long read. Continue reading “My Son’s Birth Story” →

This Fertility Journey Is My Own

~ K ~ 3 Comments

Hello all,

It’s been a while since I’ve written about anything on this blog, mainly because I haven’t had much to write about. But after Shady Grove Fertility, which I will henceforth refer to as SGF, highlighted the brief mention I gave them on my end-of-summer update, I decided that I want to write about my TTC (trying to conceive) experience and the incredible role SGF and its staff played in my fertility journey. (I will be using the pronouns “my” and “me,” but please recognize that this fertility journey is really an “us” and “we” experience that includes my spouse.) P.S. This post may be a bit on the long side, so settle in with a nice cup of coffee or tea. Continue reading “This Fertility Journey Is My Own” →

Preggomagnetism

~ K

Preggomagnetism: The basic mechanism by which pregnancy announcements of others are drawn to infertile couples.

In the past 3 months, I’ve learned of 8 women who are pregnant. After 2 years of dealing with this, I should be used to it. I should start being happy for all of them and stop being bitter. I keep trying to tell myself that I’ll one day join that happy category but month after month goes by and I’m still childless.

I’ve finally made steps to join a local infertility support group. Why not? I can piss and moan about not having kids to other people who feel the same way.

A friend has kindly told me that I need to stop comparing myself to other people. This has made me realize my habit of “Keeping Tabs on the Joneses” rather than “Keeping up with the Jonses.” I have the ability to look at what everyone else has and think wistfully, Gee, I wish I could have that.

Perhaps it’s my friend’s maturity in age and longevity of infertility that allowed her to not experience that problem. I suppose there’s something to be said for the resiliency developed the longer one deals with the problem.

Infertility (when you don’t want it) is a curse. Of course, there are those well-meaning people who say, “Enjoy the time you and your husband have! You’ll never get it back!” or “Enjoy your child-free years! God is using this period to teach you something valuable!”

Bottom line: there is no blessing in dealing with pain, grief, and hurt month after month. It’s hard not to be angry with God because He chooses to bless some couples with kids and doesn’t allow others to have any. Because health insurance costs have become an issue, my husband and I will not be able to pursue infertilty treatments for the rest of the year. We’re praying for a miracle.

But not expecting one at all.

Infertility. There. I Said It.

~ K ~ Leave a comment

Two years ago, I began a journey to have a kid. I wrote about the implications of trying to conceive (TTC) and mental illness on my other blog, depression introspection, more than a year ago.

Now thousands of dollars and a few medical treatments later, I am still childless. Sure, I haven’t been on the infertility journey for as long as many other couples but to hear doctors already talking IVF (in vitro fertilization) doesn’t give me much hope.

I’ve been using my conception journey as a form of gauging how much God loves me. Yes, I know, it’s inaccurate. Yes, I know, being childless is not God’s way of punishing me and my husband. I know these things.

And then I see people conceive on the first try. “Fertile Myrtle.” I watch other women cry over brief pregnancies and think, “You’re still more of a mother than I’ve ever been.”

It’s interesting how there are different ranges of infertility. In the course of two years, most couples who have tried for that long have experienced at least one miscarriage. So far, we have no hope that we can ever conceive a child. And it makes me angry.

I’m angry because I thought God called us to be parents. I’m angry because I hated kids, didn’t want them, and now I’m sitting here grieving over what I don’t have and money I hoped would get me to where I wanted to be.

I’m sad because I watch parents take their children for granted and not realize what a blessing it is to have what so many others cannot.

And I’m angry with God. Because this is all under His control. At the end of the day, I play roulette with science and hope in God. And God consistently tells me “no.”

So what am I supposed to do? Where do I turn now? Where do I go?

I know that being pregnant won’t make things A-OK with God. I have a lot of issues to work through. My husband does too. But I just want to know that I’m not some woman filled with a delusion of being a mom. I want to know that God is somewhere saying, “Yeah, keep working at it, but not yet.” I want to know that He still cares about me and my husband.

And I was really hoping to give a big middle finger to the doctor who made us feel like we were wasting our money during the last cycle. I guess he knows what he’s talking about and we’re the fools who threw money into a long-shot gamble.

I’m just beside myself with grief and pain today.

Children Don’t Belong to Moms; They Are A Loan from God

~ K ~ 5 Comments

Image: phanlop88 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

After hearing a good friend’s testimony on Saturday, I was reminded of an important truth. Maybe it wasn’t so much a reminder as it was a revelation: “my” children won’t belong to me. They will be “on loan” from God. As a result, only He only will choose when to lend me His creation. Just like library materials aren’t completely mine or Netflix movies aren’t mine but I’m fully responsible for them when they’re in my possession, so it is with the children bestowed upon me. I must remember that God is not withholding anything that is “rightfully mine.” (Technically, nothing is.) I should look at motherhood as a privilege God will allow me to partake in rather than something I inherently deserve simply because of my gender.

I hope I can remember this as I struggle with childlessness each month.