Do you ever have days where you feel like you can't go on? Like being a mother is too hard, too much, too demanding?
That's how I feel today.
Bedtime couldn't come fast enough, and even then, it took 30 minutes. My temper has been lost countless times today, I've not been nice, I've yelled, cried, and all the while wondering what the heck I'm doing.
It's been a LONG week. Both Hannah and Sara have had diarrhea for 5 days now. I am so sick of poop. It's gross. It smells. It's everywhere. Hannah went through all her panties in one day, half of them the next and when I thought she was good and done, tonight she had a blowout.
Sara had two blowouts yesterday. She pooped on my shirt, she pooped up her back, all over the couch..it was horrendous. Today we didn't go to church, but both Hannah and Sara were poo free all day. Until tonight. Both of them. Sara all up her back again, but luckily, Hannah was on the toilet.
Yes, I know, TMI, but I'm so over it. They're cranky. They don't want to eat. They whine all day long. I know they don't feel good, but I'm still human. Brian worked all weekend, so he wasn't home. We couldn't go anywhere, so we were stuck at home. It just got to be too much. I am tired, and stressed.
I hate days like this. I hate feeling like I'm sick of being a mom. I don't get any rewards. I get pooped on. I get food thrown on the floor, or someone complaining that they don't like it. I listen to cries and whines all day long. I clean up the same mess every day. I do laundry. I do so much without any kind of a thank you from anyone. I feel like I'm a slave in my own house. At the end of the day, I want to just go to sleep as fast as I can because I don't have to think when I'm sleeping. It's my ONLY get away. But, then of course, if someone wakes up, I have to get up and take care of it. Never a break. Never any relaxation. I'm giving and giving so much to everyone, but my bucket isn't being filled at all. I'm running on fumes.
I totally understand that being a mom is hard, and that we don't always get rewarded for all of our good deeds, but when I feel like I'm not appreciated or that I'm being taken advantage of, that's when it starts to hurt. I want to feel important too. I want to be cared for. It would be nice if someone did something for ME every once in a while. I don't expect a lot. I just want to be noticed for something other than the poop cleaner. There is only so much I can take before I have a complete meltdown. Right now, I'm melting. I am not looking forward to this week at all. I already want to cry when I wake up in the morning because that just means that it's starting all over again.
I don't always feel like this. Just when I'm at the end of my rope. I love my kids with everything in me, but I am a person too. I am more than just a mom. I am me. But, I don't even know who 'me' is. I've lost myself.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Surviving
I wrote on my other blog about my grandpa passing and how hard it has been on me. I mentioned missing my family, and having this heartache that wont go away, but right now I feel like I could break.
Brian does the best he can in trying to comfort me, but it's so foreign to him that he doesn't know what to do, and what he does do, isn't very comforting. It isn't natural to him, so I'm stuck here, trying to figure out what I'm doing. I'm not upset with him or anything because I understand him, but it just makes it harder for me.
This whole week has just sucked. I'm on the verge of tears at every moment, little things upset me, I get annoyed at everything, and I feel like it doesn't matter to anyone. Motherhood is hard. Extremely hard. I am so busy taking care of everyone else, if someone is sick, I comfort them, tend to their needs, take care of them, if their feelings are hurt, same thing, but when it comes to me, nobody is taking care of me when I need it. I have to do it all alone. And honestly, I don't even know what would help. I guess I'm so used to doing this by myself, comfort would be strange. But I still crave it.
I want to move to Idaho so bad. I want to be near my family. I want my kids to know my family. I want them to know my kids. I want them to be able to enjoy each other while they still can. It is so hard to go back to Idaho to visit, and even when we do, the whole time we're there, the kids are sick. We're never there long either. I would love to go and spend the whole summer there, but I know that will never happen. Moving there will never happen. Brian is so worried about not finding a job that pays enough...but the thing is, he wont even look. I know he doesn't want to move out there. He likes the south. He likes all the trees and the pretty rolling hills, the beauty here is marvelous, and it is a nice place to live. But, I am so family sick that being here is annoying. I know a lot of good people here, and people I love, but I want to be with my family.
It just hurts a lot. I've been trying for the longest time to just be ok with living here, and being grateful for the few visits we do get in, but as time passes, it gets harder and harder. When something happens back there, it's just another stab in the heart that reminds me that I'm missing it all. I'm so afraid that one day, I'm going to get a call saying that something happened to one of my family members, and I wont get to go out there, I wont get to say goodbye, and I'll be stuck here, trying to deal with it alone, all while taking care of everyone else.
I feel like I can't talk to Brian about it either. A few nights ago when I tried, he said that I was making him feel guilty that I couldn't go. That isn't at all what I was trying to do. I should be able to talk about my feelings, and how much I miss being around my family, and express my heartache without making him feel bad.
But, it is what it is and I can't do anything about it. Tomorrow is the memorial (not really doing a funeral) for my Grandpa, and Brian is going to be gone all day, so who knows how the day will go. I know that in time, it'll get easier and I wont feel so bad. But, that's the thing. It takes time and I just want to feel better now. I'm always going to want to move back there, that wont ever go away, but I know that eventually I wont want to cry every day about it.
Brian does the best he can in trying to comfort me, but it's so foreign to him that he doesn't know what to do, and what he does do, isn't very comforting. It isn't natural to him, so I'm stuck here, trying to figure out what I'm doing. I'm not upset with him or anything because I understand him, but it just makes it harder for me.
This whole week has just sucked. I'm on the verge of tears at every moment, little things upset me, I get annoyed at everything, and I feel like it doesn't matter to anyone. Motherhood is hard. Extremely hard. I am so busy taking care of everyone else, if someone is sick, I comfort them, tend to their needs, take care of them, if their feelings are hurt, same thing, but when it comes to me, nobody is taking care of me when I need it. I have to do it all alone. And honestly, I don't even know what would help. I guess I'm so used to doing this by myself, comfort would be strange. But I still crave it.
I want to move to Idaho so bad. I want to be near my family. I want my kids to know my family. I want them to know my kids. I want them to be able to enjoy each other while they still can. It is so hard to go back to Idaho to visit, and even when we do, the whole time we're there, the kids are sick. We're never there long either. I would love to go and spend the whole summer there, but I know that will never happen. Moving there will never happen. Brian is so worried about not finding a job that pays enough...but the thing is, he wont even look. I know he doesn't want to move out there. He likes the south. He likes all the trees and the pretty rolling hills, the beauty here is marvelous, and it is a nice place to live. But, I am so family sick that being here is annoying. I know a lot of good people here, and people I love, but I want to be with my family.
It just hurts a lot. I've been trying for the longest time to just be ok with living here, and being grateful for the few visits we do get in, but as time passes, it gets harder and harder. When something happens back there, it's just another stab in the heart that reminds me that I'm missing it all. I'm so afraid that one day, I'm going to get a call saying that something happened to one of my family members, and I wont get to go out there, I wont get to say goodbye, and I'll be stuck here, trying to deal with it alone, all while taking care of everyone else.
I feel like I can't talk to Brian about it either. A few nights ago when I tried, he said that I was making him feel guilty that I couldn't go. That isn't at all what I was trying to do. I should be able to talk about my feelings, and how much I miss being around my family, and express my heartache without making him feel bad.
But, it is what it is and I can't do anything about it. Tomorrow is the memorial (not really doing a funeral) for my Grandpa, and Brian is going to be gone all day, so who knows how the day will go. I know that in time, it'll get easier and I wont feel so bad. But, that's the thing. It takes time and I just want to feel better now. I'm always going to want to move back there, that wont ever go away, but I know that eventually I wont want to cry every day about it.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Blessings....or lack there of
I can tell that I'm in one of those moods. Everything is bugging me. Everything is a trigger. I've had a rough couple of days, and I'm trying to do everything to get out of it. Guess today just wasn't the day.
In the mean time, my brain is going at about 90 mph. I'm continually thinking, worrying, doubting. It's all just a mess. I think that I might need to stop reading blogs for a while because it seems that every time I read something, it's a trigger. Someone is posting an accomplishment, or a blessing, or some other kind of success that they've had. I still feel like I'm at the starting line, and I'm being left behind.
I am still struggling very much so spiritually. I feel like my prayers aren't being heard. Everyone says that prayers are answered in all kinds of different ways, some answered now, some later, some answered in Heaven. I know that. Most of the time when I pray, I ask for comfort, strength and patience. I don't feel comfort, and I don't feel strong. I feel alone.
I just recently read a blog post about a friends prayers being answered, her testimony was strengthened. It really was amazing to read, and I am so happy for her. But what she was struggling with is the same thing that I've been struggling with since moving to Cookeville. She just moved into a new ward a few weeks ago. I've been here for a year and a half. Her prayers were answered in one day. Yes, I know she was struggling, and it was really hard for her, but why am I still waiting? I can't help but feel like I'm not worth my prayers being answered. Maybe I don't need it as much? Or, it isn't time? I don't know. But whatever it is, it's really hard. I feel so lonely here. I have friends, but I don't have anyone close. All my closest friends live far away, and I don't get to see them often. I was going to go to a water park today with Bekah, but then I had a bad feeling and couldn't shake it, so we didn't go. But why? I needed time with my friend. I crave that time. I'm sure there was a good reason, but it still bummed me out. I went to a baby shower last week for a girl in my ward, and for the first half of it, I felt so out of place, alone and like nobody saw me. It's really hard.
There are so many other things that I struggle with, and it seems like it's all coming at me all at once. I don't know if maybe I am so far gone that I can't see my blessings, or if I just don't have them. Yes, I have healthy children, and my husband has a job that pays the bills. We live in a beautiful house and drive really nice cars. We have a lot of material things and while I am grateful for them, I feel like I'm missing those spiritual blessings. I pray and I feel like nobody hears me. I read the scriptures, or a ensign article, a conference talk...and I don't get anything out of it. I go to church and my kids are so irreverent during Sacrament Meeting that I don't get to listen to the talks. I go to primary so I don't get any lessons in Sunday School or Relief Society. I want so badly to get to the temple at least once a month, and something always comes up and I can't go.
I have been fighting for so long against everything. I am so tired and days like today, it wears me down and I throw a pity party. I want someone to care about me. I want them to show they care...not just tell me. But I also know that it's hard to be friends with me. I'm negative a lot of the time and I have a lot of crap that I carry around. I'm slowly learning to put it down and try to just live, but I'm not all the way there yet. I am stronger and better than I was a year ago, but I still have a long ways to go. I hate having days like this where everything gets under my skin, and I want to just be left alone. I don't want to hear 'mommy' all day long. I want peace and quiet. I want people to stop shoving their good news in my face. I know that's not what they are doing, and it isn't their intention, but when I feel like this, it seems as though everyone is saying, 'look what I have and you don't'. It's annoying and I hate it. I know better. I know that isn't what is happening, but that's how I'm feeling. It's complicated and very confusing.
I want to just be happy for everyone else and not feel bad for myself. I have been working so hard on myself, so it frustrates me when I feel like the world is against me. I don't feel strong enough to handle all this stress and struggles. I am so tired of never getting a break, never feeling at peace, never feeling like I matter, I'm tired of hanging on. I'm barely breathing anymore. But, I know I can't give up because like I said, I've come so far already. It's just a bad day. I'm in a bad mood, and tomorrow I'll try again.
In the mean time, my brain is going at about 90 mph. I'm continually thinking, worrying, doubting. It's all just a mess. I think that I might need to stop reading blogs for a while because it seems that every time I read something, it's a trigger. Someone is posting an accomplishment, or a blessing, or some other kind of success that they've had. I still feel like I'm at the starting line, and I'm being left behind.
I am still struggling very much so spiritually. I feel like my prayers aren't being heard. Everyone says that prayers are answered in all kinds of different ways, some answered now, some later, some answered in Heaven. I know that. Most of the time when I pray, I ask for comfort, strength and patience. I don't feel comfort, and I don't feel strong. I feel alone.
I just recently read a blog post about a friends prayers being answered, her testimony was strengthened. It really was amazing to read, and I am so happy for her. But what she was struggling with is the same thing that I've been struggling with since moving to Cookeville. She just moved into a new ward a few weeks ago. I've been here for a year and a half. Her prayers were answered in one day. Yes, I know she was struggling, and it was really hard for her, but why am I still waiting? I can't help but feel like I'm not worth my prayers being answered. Maybe I don't need it as much? Or, it isn't time? I don't know. But whatever it is, it's really hard. I feel so lonely here. I have friends, but I don't have anyone close. All my closest friends live far away, and I don't get to see them often. I was going to go to a water park today with Bekah, but then I had a bad feeling and couldn't shake it, so we didn't go. But why? I needed time with my friend. I crave that time. I'm sure there was a good reason, but it still bummed me out. I went to a baby shower last week for a girl in my ward, and for the first half of it, I felt so out of place, alone and like nobody saw me. It's really hard.
There are so many other things that I struggle with, and it seems like it's all coming at me all at once. I don't know if maybe I am so far gone that I can't see my blessings, or if I just don't have them. Yes, I have healthy children, and my husband has a job that pays the bills. We live in a beautiful house and drive really nice cars. We have a lot of material things and while I am grateful for them, I feel like I'm missing those spiritual blessings. I pray and I feel like nobody hears me. I read the scriptures, or a ensign article, a conference talk...and I don't get anything out of it. I go to church and my kids are so irreverent during Sacrament Meeting that I don't get to listen to the talks. I go to primary so I don't get any lessons in Sunday School or Relief Society. I want so badly to get to the temple at least once a month, and something always comes up and I can't go.
I have been fighting for so long against everything. I am so tired and days like today, it wears me down and I throw a pity party. I want someone to care about me. I want them to show they care...not just tell me. But I also know that it's hard to be friends with me. I'm negative a lot of the time and I have a lot of crap that I carry around. I'm slowly learning to put it down and try to just live, but I'm not all the way there yet. I am stronger and better than I was a year ago, but I still have a long ways to go. I hate having days like this where everything gets under my skin, and I want to just be left alone. I don't want to hear 'mommy' all day long. I want peace and quiet. I want people to stop shoving their good news in my face. I know that's not what they are doing, and it isn't their intention, but when I feel like this, it seems as though everyone is saying, 'look what I have and you don't'. It's annoying and I hate it. I know better. I know that isn't what is happening, but that's how I'm feeling. It's complicated and very confusing.
I want to just be happy for everyone else and not feel bad for myself. I have been working so hard on myself, so it frustrates me when I feel like the world is against me. I don't feel strong enough to handle all this stress and struggles. I am so tired of never getting a break, never feeling at peace, never feeling like I matter, I'm tired of hanging on. I'm barely breathing anymore. But, I know I can't give up because like I said, I've come so far already. It's just a bad day. I'm in a bad mood, and tomorrow I'll try again.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Enough?
Every once in a while, I'll read something...an article, a blog post, a facebook status...and it's a trigger. Usually it's about motherhood, or a career, or some kind of praising someone else.
Today, I read a little note that someone posted on a friends page. It said something along the lines of that they are probably so proud of their children because they've accomplished so much, and that they are proud of them too.
Nothing huge or dramatic, just nice and simple.
So why did it bother me so much? Most of the time, I can read something like that and get on with my day. But today, it's stuck in my mind. Why?
People don't come up to me and say, 'Amy, I am so proud of you for being a stay at home mother, look at how much you have accomplished!'. I don't get a pat on the back, or an award for handling a fit without losing my temper. At the end of the day, I don't get a paycheck, or a bonus for all the hard work I do. Most of the time, what I do is unnoticed. That's how it is for a lot of moms. I get it, I don't cry over it, but sometimes I want someone to tell me that they are proud of me.
I didn't go to school. I don't have a degree in anything, and I wont be graduating from something I worked so hard for. I don't feel like I've accomplished anything, and because of that, what's there to be proud of, or even recognized for?
I stay at home all day. I sweep up crumbs, and mop up juice spills, wipe dirty faces and dirty bottoms. I wash load after load after load of laundry. I clean dishes and wipe down counters. I make breakfast, lunch and dinner for kids who don't like to eat. I kiss scraped knees and bruised elbows. I yell. I lose my temper. I get mad and angry. At the end of the day, sometimes I feel like I have been suffocating all day. And no one is there to tell me 'good job!' or 'you did it!' or 'I'm proud of you'. And then I wake up the next morning and do it all over again.
Now, I'm not saying that I want praise every single day. I don't need it. I don't want it. But, when I see someone do something with their life, graduate school, get a great job, receive a raise at work or whatever, I just feel like I'm never going to have that feeling. I don't have the desire to go to work, or get a degree in something that I wont use, I just want to feel important. I give and give and give so much of myself, that sometimes, I don't even know who I am anymore.
Hannah and Sara are HORRIBLE eaters. They are like little birds who just peck at food and then they're done. Hannah is a huge drama queen and is so sassy that sometimes I have to just walk away. I can't get my kids to eat a sandwich, or have manners...so I feel like I'm failing. I'm not accomplishing motherhood, and that's the only thing I know right now. If it were a paying job, I probably would have been fired a LONG time ago. If it were school, I would have flunk out by now. Sometimes it's hard to swallow the fact that most days, my only accomplishment was keeping the kids alive. I'm supposed to keep the house clean, keep laundry clean and put away, make tasty dinners, teach my kids manners and how to be kind to others, get dressed and do my hair every day, and then be happy and loving when my husband gets home from work.
But that is so not what I'm doing. Most days, the sink is piled with dirty dishes, there are baskets of laundry waiting to be washed, or put away, but more than likely, both. I'm in sweats, my hair is greasy, there are crumbs all over the floor and the kids ate junk and watched way too much tv. It's just never ending. And then I think to myself...no wonder nobody is proud of me. I'm a mess. My kids are crazy.
In spite of all that, I know that this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Being home with my kids is the best thing for them, and for me. Yeah, some days are horrible and I want to forget all about them, but I always have a second chance the next day.
I know I'm a good mom...it's just sometimes, I don't feel like it. It's been said that one day, we will be glorified for all of our hard work as mothers, so I just need to have faith that one day...one day someone will tell me how proud they are of me.
Some days are just hard.
Today, I read a little note that someone posted on a friends page. It said something along the lines of that they are probably so proud of their children because they've accomplished so much, and that they are proud of them too.
Nothing huge or dramatic, just nice and simple.
So why did it bother me so much? Most of the time, I can read something like that and get on with my day. But today, it's stuck in my mind. Why?
People don't come up to me and say, 'Amy, I am so proud of you for being a stay at home mother, look at how much you have accomplished!'. I don't get a pat on the back, or an award for handling a fit without losing my temper. At the end of the day, I don't get a paycheck, or a bonus for all the hard work I do. Most of the time, what I do is unnoticed. That's how it is for a lot of moms. I get it, I don't cry over it, but sometimes I want someone to tell me that they are proud of me.
I didn't go to school. I don't have a degree in anything, and I wont be graduating from something I worked so hard for. I don't feel like I've accomplished anything, and because of that, what's there to be proud of, or even recognized for?
I stay at home all day. I sweep up crumbs, and mop up juice spills, wipe dirty faces and dirty bottoms. I wash load after load after load of laundry. I clean dishes and wipe down counters. I make breakfast, lunch and dinner for kids who don't like to eat. I kiss scraped knees and bruised elbows. I yell. I lose my temper. I get mad and angry. At the end of the day, sometimes I feel like I have been suffocating all day. And no one is there to tell me 'good job!' or 'you did it!' or 'I'm proud of you'. And then I wake up the next morning and do it all over again.
Now, I'm not saying that I want praise every single day. I don't need it. I don't want it. But, when I see someone do something with their life, graduate school, get a great job, receive a raise at work or whatever, I just feel like I'm never going to have that feeling. I don't have the desire to go to work, or get a degree in something that I wont use, I just want to feel important. I give and give and give so much of myself, that sometimes, I don't even know who I am anymore.
Hannah and Sara are HORRIBLE eaters. They are like little birds who just peck at food and then they're done. Hannah is a huge drama queen and is so sassy that sometimes I have to just walk away. I can't get my kids to eat a sandwich, or have manners...so I feel like I'm failing. I'm not accomplishing motherhood, and that's the only thing I know right now. If it were a paying job, I probably would have been fired a LONG time ago. If it were school, I would have flunk out by now. Sometimes it's hard to swallow the fact that most days, my only accomplishment was keeping the kids alive. I'm supposed to keep the house clean, keep laundry clean and put away, make tasty dinners, teach my kids manners and how to be kind to others, get dressed and do my hair every day, and then be happy and loving when my husband gets home from work.
But that is so not what I'm doing. Most days, the sink is piled with dirty dishes, there are baskets of laundry waiting to be washed, or put away, but more than likely, both. I'm in sweats, my hair is greasy, there are crumbs all over the floor and the kids ate junk and watched way too much tv. It's just never ending. And then I think to myself...no wonder nobody is proud of me. I'm a mess. My kids are crazy.
In spite of all that, I know that this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Being home with my kids is the best thing for them, and for me. Yeah, some days are horrible and I want to forget all about them, but I always have a second chance the next day.
I know I'm a good mom...it's just sometimes, I don't feel like it. It's been said that one day, we will be glorified for all of our hard work as mothers, so I just need to have faith that one day...one day someone will tell me how proud they are of me.
Some days are just hard.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Anniversary
Yesterday was Brian and my 10 year anniversary. 10 years! Honestly, I can't believe we've made it this long.
A few weeks ago when my sister was here, we took a trip to Atlanta to celebrate our anniversary. It's hard getting babysitters around here, and we knew we wouldn't be able to find someone to keep them over night. It was a good trip, we were exhausted, but it was good. I was a little bummed out because my expectations of the trip were too high. I really wanted to connect with Brian, and be able to just relax and enjoy each other. We were so busy that when we got back to our hotel at the end of the day, we just crashed. There was no ounce of romance the whole trip. Nothing. But, it happened and I can't change it.
So as I said, our anniversary was yesterday. I knew that Brian probably wasn't going to get me a gift because we went to Atlanta. I knew it wasn't going to be an amazing day full of joy and excitement. I mean, we're parents and we still have a life that doesn't stop just because it's our anniversary. It was just another day.
But...I wanted something to be special about it. A few months ago, I started working on a picture book for Brian. I wanted to do something for him (even though I knew I'd get nothing), and I was really excited about it. 10 years is something to be celebrated. It's a really long time, and it's one of those milestone anniversaries (at least it is to me). I am very sentimental. I have always loved to celebrate anything, it's just my nature. Birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas...anything. I love to make a big deal out of it. Brian, on the other hand, isn't. He could care less. So, even though I knew we had already 'celebrated' our anniversary, I still wanted to do something small for him. I spent a lot of time getting pictures, figuring out the timeline of them, putting it together and getting everything just right. I really had hoped that he would like it and not think it was stupid. I also got him a really sweet card, and I wrote a note in it just for him. So, really, it wasn't anything huge, just a book and a card. More sentimental than anything.
All day long, I was so excited for him to come home and open the book. And, in the back of my mind, I was hoping...no, praying that he'd buy me some flowers, or at least a card. Something to recognize that the day was our anniversary. I really wanted something...but I was preparing myself for nothing.
So, he got home and his hands were empty. I didn't let it bother me at first, so I gave him his gift and he seemed to like it. I probably care more about the book than he does. But whatever.
And that was about it. The evening was the same as every other evening. When the kids went to bed, nothing exciting happened. All night long, I was trying so hard to not be upset, but it wasn't working. The more I thought about it, the more upset I got. I tried to not think, but it just wasn't working. I mean...10 years! Why the heck could he not stop at the store on the way home from work and pick up some flowers? He knows that I LOVE getting flowers, but he never buys them for me. I don't even remember the last time he gave me flowers. I would have thought that because it was our 10 year anniversary, he would have done something small. But he didn't.
I'm trying not to be sad about it, but I am. I feel like because we made it 10 whole years, with everything that has happened, things we've done, all of our lows (which have been a lot), the day should have had something special about it. I really would have be content with a card. It almost feel like as time goes by, things get less special. I remember when he would get me cards, or flowers for my birthday, an anniversary or Valentines Day. Not anymore though. And, I should be used to getting nothing by now. Why am I so upset over it? I knew it was going to happen...or not happen, I guess. I told myself that he wouldn't be bringing anything home. Sometimes though, I hate being right.
It shouldn't matter, but it does. I'm having a really hard time letting it go. But, I can't talk to him about it because yesterday was yesterday. We'll never have another 10 year anniversary. He can't buy me flowers tomorrow and say they were for yesterday. In fact, I said something about getting flowers, and he made some lame excuse. That hurt even more.
And then I think...I'm being totally selfish. I don't need anything, I shouldn't want anything. I should be happy and fine with a little kiss and a 'happy anniversary'. Why should I get anything else? I shouldn't be so selfish.
But, it still hurts. I'm still sad. And it's just one more thing to get over.
A few weeks ago when my sister was here, we took a trip to Atlanta to celebrate our anniversary. It's hard getting babysitters around here, and we knew we wouldn't be able to find someone to keep them over night. It was a good trip, we were exhausted, but it was good. I was a little bummed out because my expectations of the trip were too high. I really wanted to connect with Brian, and be able to just relax and enjoy each other. We were so busy that when we got back to our hotel at the end of the day, we just crashed. There was no ounce of romance the whole trip. Nothing. But, it happened and I can't change it.
So as I said, our anniversary was yesterday. I knew that Brian probably wasn't going to get me a gift because we went to Atlanta. I knew it wasn't going to be an amazing day full of joy and excitement. I mean, we're parents and we still have a life that doesn't stop just because it's our anniversary. It was just another day.
But...I wanted something to be special about it. A few months ago, I started working on a picture book for Brian. I wanted to do something for him (even though I knew I'd get nothing), and I was really excited about it. 10 years is something to be celebrated. It's a really long time, and it's one of those milestone anniversaries (at least it is to me). I am very sentimental. I have always loved to celebrate anything, it's just my nature. Birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas...anything. I love to make a big deal out of it. Brian, on the other hand, isn't. He could care less. So, even though I knew we had already 'celebrated' our anniversary, I still wanted to do something small for him. I spent a lot of time getting pictures, figuring out the timeline of them, putting it together and getting everything just right. I really had hoped that he would like it and not think it was stupid. I also got him a really sweet card, and I wrote a note in it just for him. So, really, it wasn't anything huge, just a book and a card. More sentimental than anything.
All day long, I was so excited for him to come home and open the book. And, in the back of my mind, I was hoping...no, praying that he'd buy me some flowers, or at least a card. Something to recognize that the day was our anniversary. I really wanted something...but I was preparing myself for nothing.
So, he got home and his hands were empty. I didn't let it bother me at first, so I gave him his gift and he seemed to like it. I probably care more about the book than he does. But whatever.
And that was about it. The evening was the same as every other evening. When the kids went to bed, nothing exciting happened. All night long, I was trying so hard to not be upset, but it wasn't working. The more I thought about it, the more upset I got. I tried to not think, but it just wasn't working. I mean...10 years! Why the heck could he not stop at the store on the way home from work and pick up some flowers? He knows that I LOVE getting flowers, but he never buys them for me. I don't even remember the last time he gave me flowers. I would have thought that because it was our 10 year anniversary, he would have done something small. But he didn't.
I'm trying not to be sad about it, but I am. I feel like because we made it 10 whole years, with everything that has happened, things we've done, all of our lows (which have been a lot), the day should have had something special about it. I really would have be content with a card. It almost feel like as time goes by, things get less special. I remember when he would get me cards, or flowers for my birthday, an anniversary or Valentines Day. Not anymore though. And, I should be used to getting nothing by now. Why am I so upset over it? I knew it was going to happen...or not happen, I guess. I told myself that he wouldn't be bringing anything home. Sometimes though, I hate being right.
It shouldn't matter, but it does. I'm having a really hard time letting it go. But, I can't talk to him about it because yesterday was yesterday. We'll never have another 10 year anniversary. He can't buy me flowers tomorrow and say they were for yesterday. In fact, I said something about getting flowers, and he made some lame excuse. That hurt even more.
And then I think...I'm being totally selfish. I don't need anything, I shouldn't want anything. I should be happy and fine with a little kiss and a 'happy anniversary'. Why should I get anything else? I shouldn't be so selfish.
But, it still hurts. I'm still sad. And it's just one more thing to get over.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Feelings
Today, it has been 4 weeks since I started taking the Wellbutrin, and honestly, I don't feel any different. I know that it can take up to 6 weeks to feel the effects, but I'm really annoyed. I have felt so bad for so long, I was hoping that by now, I'd start to feel something. I still struggle every day to get out of bed. I still struggle to get things done, and I still have a feeling of hopelessness. I don't want to go out and do things, I want to just stay in my pjs, lay in bed and watch tv all day.
And to top it all off, I can't wake up. I have been so incredibly tired for the past week. I want to sleep, but even when I do, it's not enough. I've had this problem before though...just another symptom of depression. It blows.
My sister was here for the past two weeks almost, and went home last Friday. I so enjoyed having her here, but now I just miss my family more. Brian and I celebrate our 10 year anniversary next week, so that means I've been away from them for 10 years! I would love nothing more than to live closer. Not necessarily in Idaho, but close enough that we could drive to see them without it taking days and days. I hate that my family doesn't get to see my kids grow up. They get pictures and maybe a trip once a year, but they miss out on everything. I miss them. My heart aches because I miss them so much. I don't know how to take that away either. Sometimes I just want to be able to talk to my mom face to face, and have a shoulder to cry on. It would be nice to take my kids over there during the day to play so I could get a break. I want them apart of their lives and it makes me sad that this is the way it is. And I can't change it either. Brian said he'd move if he had a job that paid the right amount of money, but his idea of the right amount is insane and probably will never find it. It's irritating and depressing.
Anyway, I just woke up with a lot on my mind today. I'm hoping this week isn't bad...I'm trying. I really am.
And to top it all off, I can't wake up. I have been so incredibly tired for the past week. I want to sleep, but even when I do, it's not enough. I've had this problem before though...just another symptom of depression. It blows.
My sister was here for the past two weeks almost, and went home last Friday. I so enjoyed having her here, but now I just miss my family more. Brian and I celebrate our 10 year anniversary next week, so that means I've been away from them for 10 years! I would love nothing more than to live closer. Not necessarily in Idaho, but close enough that we could drive to see them without it taking days and days. I hate that my family doesn't get to see my kids grow up. They get pictures and maybe a trip once a year, but they miss out on everything. I miss them. My heart aches because I miss them so much. I don't know how to take that away either. Sometimes I just want to be able to talk to my mom face to face, and have a shoulder to cry on. It would be nice to take my kids over there during the day to play so I could get a break. I want them apart of their lives and it makes me sad that this is the way it is. And I can't change it either. Brian said he'd move if he had a job that paid the right amount of money, but his idea of the right amount is insane and probably will never find it. It's irritating and depressing.
Anyway, I just woke up with a lot on my mind today. I'm hoping this week isn't bad...I'm trying. I really am.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Hello. My name is Amy...
...and I'm a foodaholic.
That's right. I love food. I love making food. Tasting food. Eating food...being around food. MmmMmm...I just love it.
But, my food addiction goes past the 'normal' love of food. I use food for comfort. I am a stress/emotional eater. I don't remember a time where I haven't been. Food is my drug, and by my pant size, sadly, it shows.
I have struggled for such a long time with my weight, and it seems like when I start to get a handle on things, something happens and I loose it all and eat my way through it. I'll loose 5 lbs here and there, but I always gain it back. A year after I had Ethan, I lost all my baby weight, plus 10 extra pounds. I was so excited to be back in clothes that weren't super tight fitting and my pants didn't give me the spare tire around my waist. But, little by little, I ate more and more, and started to gain weight again. Then I got pregnant with Hannah and it all went out the window. I really haven't been happy with my weight since then.
And to make things worse, I'll weigh myself, or put on a pair of pants that should fit, and I'll be disappointed by the results. You'd think I would want to put the food down and go workout or eat a carrot...but because my brain is messed up, I just want to eat more. Heck, I'm already fat, so why not eat? I know it doesn't make sense, I don't understand it, but that's how I am.
There are people who stop eating when they're stressed. If that was my case, I'd probably die from anorexia. Seriously. But instead, I just want food.
I want so bad to figure out how to control myself, but I haven't found what's right for me. It's so easy to say, 'just don't buy unhealthy foods'. And, most of the time when I'm doing my grocery shopping, I don't. It's when I'm mad, stressed, sad, super angry that I go to the store just for ice cream, or candy, or cookies...something that tastes delicious. Eat smaller portions...yeah, I've heard that one too. My issue is snacking. All day. Here and there, one or two cookies at a time. It's so frustrating!
I know what I have to do, it's just doing it and sticking with it. It's so hard for me though, and if you don't have an issue with food, you wont understand. Just like smoking...I don't smoke, I know it's bad and I don't understand why someone can't just stop cold turkey (ok, well, I do kinda understand). I've found that if I stop all my comfort foods at once, I'm more than likely to binge later on. I've had people tell me to just stop one thing at a time, like one month don't drink soda. Then the next month don't eat chocolate...and so on. I wish it were as easy as it sounds.
If I worked out on a regular basis, maybe it wouldn't matter so much. But in all honesty, I hate working out. I do it when I can't fit into my fat pants anymore. I don't do it because I love it, or I crave the feeling I get...I want to cry the whole time my body is moving. Pathetic. Running though...I loved to run, when I wasn't hurting from an injury. But, I haven't gotten to the point where I can run again.
So, now it's summer and I brought out my summer clothes. I only have one pair of shorts that fit. Ugh. I don't want to go buy new clothes, but I really don't want to workout or stop eating. Something has to give though. I really do want to eat right and be healthy and actually be excited about what I see in the mirror, but it's so hard when I don't have the support I need. I give in to temptation so easily, and I have a hard time saying no.
I need to loose anywhere from 25-30lbs and it seems like such a hard thing to do. I feel like I'm working on so much stuff right now, and loosing weight is just an added burden. I feel so overwhelmed with what I need to do, so taking care of my physical body has been put on the back burner. I just feel stuck.
That's right. I love food. I love making food. Tasting food. Eating food...being around food. MmmMmm...I just love it.
But, my food addiction goes past the 'normal' love of food. I use food for comfort. I am a stress/emotional eater. I don't remember a time where I haven't been. Food is my drug, and by my pant size, sadly, it shows.
I have struggled for such a long time with my weight, and it seems like when I start to get a handle on things, something happens and I loose it all and eat my way through it. I'll loose 5 lbs here and there, but I always gain it back. A year after I had Ethan, I lost all my baby weight, plus 10 extra pounds. I was so excited to be back in clothes that weren't super tight fitting and my pants didn't give me the spare tire around my waist. But, little by little, I ate more and more, and started to gain weight again. Then I got pregnant with Hannah and it all went out the window. I really haven't been happy with my weight since then.
And to make things worse, I'll weigh myself, or put on a pair of pants that should fit, and I'll be disappointed by the results. You'd think I would want to put the food down and go workout or eat a carrot...but because my brain is messed up, I just want to eat more. Heck, I'm already fat, so why not eat? I know it doesn't make sense, I don't understand it, but that's how I am.
There are people who stop eating when they're stressed. If that was my case, I'd probably die from anorexia. Seriously. But instead, I just want food.
I want so bad to figure out how to control myself, but I haven't found what's right for me. It's so easy to say, 'just don't buy unhealthy foods'. And, most of the time when I'm doing my grocery shopping, I don't. It's when I'm mad, stressed, sad, super angry that I go to the store just for ice cream, or candy, or cookies...something that tastes delicious. Eat smaller portions...yeah, I've heard that one too. My issue is snacking. All day. Here and there, one or two cookies at a time. It's so frustrating!
I know what I have to do, it's just doing it and sticking with it. It's so hard for me though, and if you don't have an issue with food, you wont understand. Just like smoking...I don't smoke, I know it's bad and I don't understand why someone can't just stop cold turkey (ok, well, I do kinda understand). I've found that if I stop all my comfort foods at once, I'm more than likely to binge later on. I've had people tell me to just stop one thing at a time, like one month don't drink soda. Then the next month don't eat chocolate...and so on. I wish it were as easy as it sounds.
If I worked out on a regular basis, maybe it wouldn't matter so much. But in all honesty, I hate working out. I do it when I can't fit into my fat pants anymore. I don't do it because I love it, or I crave the feeling I get...I want to cry the whole time my body is moving. Pathetic. Running though...I loved to run, when I wasn't hurting from an injury. But, I haven't gotten to the point where I can run again.
So, now it's summer and I brought out my summer clothes. I only have one pair of shorts that fit. Ugh. I don't want to go buy new clothes, but I really don't want to workout or stop eating. Something has to give though. I really do want to eat right and be healthy and actually be excited about what I see in the mirror, but it's so hard when I don't have the support I need. I give in to temptation so easily, and I have a hard time saying no.
I need to loose anywhere from 25-30lbs and it seems like such a hard thing to do. I feel like I'm working on so much stuff right now, and loosing weight is just an added burden. I feel so overwhelmed with what I need to do, so taking care of my physical body has been put on the back burner. I just feel stuck.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
It's not fair
I am so upset this morning. No. I'm angry. Why? Because I've been sick all weekend with strep throat, and I still had to do 90% of everything. The ONLY time I got rest, was when Sara was taking a nap.
But, Brian is now sick and guess what? He gets to do NOTHING. He'll lay in bed and do nothing while I'm still recovering, not feeling 100% yet, and so I still have to do everything. This is how it always is.
It's not fair and I hate it.
But, Brian is now sick and guess what? He gets to do NOTHING. He'll lay in bed and do nothing while I'm still recovering, not feeling 100% yet, and so I still have to do everything. This is how it always is.
It's not fair and I hate it.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
They call me Mommy - part two
As I said in the post before, motherhood has been hard on me. I don't enjoy it like I should, and I feel guilty and horrible for it. I don't know if it's the depression that just got in the way. Actually, I know it has a lot to do with it. I used to not always feel this way. It's probably just within the past 2 years that I've really been struggling.
After Sara was born, I felt overwhelmed. Getting 3 kids up in the morning, ready for the day (Ethan ready for school), making breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, cups, cleaning the same messes up every day, doing the same dishes, doing the crap load of laundry that seemed to never end, the crying and whining and fit throwing...doing the same things over and over and over. Every day. And before you go on saying...'well that's what a mothers life is...', I know that. I know that it's my responsibility to do all those things. I stay home, I raise the kids, I clean up the messes and try the tears. But, it's somewhere in the middle of all that, that I've lost myself.
I don't know who I am anymore. I feel like I'm only a wife and a mother. What happened to Amy? What happened to the person? I am still a person, I still have wants and needs, and dreams of all sorts. And I feel like I'm not allowed to be anything but a mother and a wife. Is this how it's supposed to be? I don't want to sound selfish, or rude, but why should I have to forget the person I am? Can't I have both? It all goes back to the stupid guilt. Any time I want to go somewhere, or do something without the kids, I feel bad. Why? I have no idea! You know the saying that you can't take care of the kids unless you take care of yourself...or something like that? I know that, and I want to take care of myself, I just don't know how yet.
My kids are all different in so many ways. They each have their own needs and I have to figure out how to meet them. Ethan is struggling in school, and his behavior in the past few weeks have got me concerned. I've been praying to know how to help him, and what to do, but I just feel lost. There are things that I have done that have helped, but not enough to make the difference we need. I know he's only 7, and a lot of his actions are normal 7 year old behavior, but it's really more than that. I want him to be happy and successful and proud of himself. I worry about second grade. His focusing is getting worse and it has started to affect his grades. What I'm struggling with now is, do I wait until school starts up again to see how he does, or take action now? And what actions do I take? It's really so overwhelming.
Hannah is...well, she's a handful. She is so sweet and loving and she is a good girl, when she wants to be. But she is also 3. I find myself upset and mad at her a lot during the day. She loves to get into things that she knows she isn't supposed to. And she does it when I'm busy. Naturally. I mean, isn't that what all kids do? But, because of my depression, and the stress level I have, I get more upset than I need to get. Why? Because I'm tired! I'm tired of the rules being broken over and over again. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not doing any good. Tired of feeling like I am no good. I'm tired of feeling the way I feel and not understanding why. I am so snappy lately, and it's over the dumbest things. When I want to be left alone is when it's the worst. Hannah or Sara will want something...like a snack or a drink, or help with what they're doing or even when they just want me to play with them, and I'll get mad. I don't want to do it, I don't want to be bothered so I get upset. How ridiculous is that? Then I feel horrible and like a bad mom who doesn't want to be around her kids.
I don't always feel like that, but it is more than I'd like to admit. It's so frustrating. I know a lot of what happens with the kids is all normal stuff, every kid does it. But it's how I react. Why am I reacting the way I do?
Maybe it all goes back to feeling lost. Nancy and I are working on the whole guilt thing. I need to give that up. I know I do, but dang it's hard! I need to find the right balance between being a wife, mother and my own person. I don't want to feel guilty for taking a weekend for just myself so I can breathe. I should be able to do stuff for myself so I can be a better wife and mother, right? I have given up everything for my kids. All mothers do. I love my kids more than anything in the world. I just want to enjoy it now because I know that later, I'm going to regret it. All I can do is my best, pray and try to let go of these feelings of guilt and anger.
After Sara was born, I felt overwhelmed. Getting 3 kids up in the morning, ready for the day (Ethan ready for school), making breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, cups, cleaning the same messes up every day, doing the same dishes, doing the crap load of laundry that seemed to never end, the crying and whining and fit throwing...doing the same things over and over and over. Every day. And before you go on saying...'well that's what a mothers life is...', I know that. I know that it's my responsibility to do all those things. I stay home, I raise the kids, I clean up the messes and try the tears. But, it's somewhere in the middle of all that, that I've lost myself.
I don't know who I am anymore. I feel like I'm only a wife and a mother. What happened to Amy? What happened to the person? I am still a person, I still have wants and needs, and dreams of all sorts. And I feel like I'm not allowed to be anything but a mother and a wife. Is this how it's supposed to be? I don't want to sound selfish, or rude, but why should I have to forget the person I am? Can't I have both? It all goes back to the stupid guilt. Any time I want to go somewhere, or do something without the kids, I feel bad. Why? I have no idea! You know the saying that you can't take care of the kids unless you take care of yourself...or something like that? I know that, and I want to take care of myself, I just don't know how yet.
My kids are all different in so many ways. They each have their own needs and I have to figure out how to meet them. Ethan is struggling in school, and his behavior in the past few weeks have got me concerned. I've been praying to know how to help him, and what to do, but I just feel lost. There are things that I have done that have helped, but not enough to make the difference we need. I know he's only 7, and a lot of his actions are normal 7 year old behavior, but it's really more than that. I want him to be happy and successful and proud of himself. I worry about second grade. His focusing is getting worse and it has started to affect his grades. What I'm struggling with now is, do I wait until school starts up again to see how he does, or take action now? And what actions do I take? It's really so overwhelming.
Hannah is...well, she's a handful. She is so sweet and loving and she is a good girl, when she wants to be. But she is also 3. I find myself upset and mad at her a lot during the day. She loves to get into things that she knows she isn't supposed to. And she does it when I'm busy. Naturally. I mean, isn't that what all kids do? But, because of my depression, and the stress level I have, I get more upset than I need to get. Why? Because I'm tired! I'm tired of the rules being broken over and over again. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not doing any good. Tired of feeling like I am no good. I'm tired of feeling the way I feel and not understanding why. I am so snappy lately, and it's over the dumbest things. When I want to be left alone is when it's the worst. Hannah or Sara will want something...like a snack or a drink, or help with what they're doing or even when they just want me to play with them, and I'll get mad. I don't want to do it, I don't want to be bothered so I get upset. How ridiculous is that? Then I feel horrible and like a bad mom who doesn't want to be around her kids.
I don't always feel like that, but it is more than I'd like to admit. It's so frustrating. I know a lot of what happens with the kids is all normal stuff, every kid does it. But it's how I react. Why am I reacting the way I do?
Maybe it all goes back to feeling lost. Nancy and I are working on the whole guilt thing. I need to give that up. I know I do, but dang it's hard! I need to find the right balance between being a wife, mother and my own person. I don't want to feel guilty for taking a weekend for just myself so I can breathe. I should be able to do stuff for myself so I can be a better wife and mother, right? I have given up everything for my kids. All mothers do. I love my kids more than anything in the world. I just want to enjoy it now because I know that later, I'm going to regret it. All I can do is my best, pray and try to let go of these feelings of guilt and anger.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
They call me Mommy - part one
What is motherhood? What does it look like? Feel like? How do you survive it?
I remember growing up wanting nothing more than to just be a mommy. I didn't have any other plans (besides getting married...can't be a mommy without a hubby). I didn't plan on going to school and getting some awesome degree, having a wonderful paying job...I just wanted to be a mom. And that's exactly what I did.
After Brian and I got married, he started nursing school right away, and I got a job. The first two years of our marriage is really a blur. Brian was going to school an hour and a half away, so during the week, he'd stay up there with some friends. I didn't know anyone here, I had no friends, the girls at work were not people I wanted to hang out with, and the girls at church...well, lets just say that there weren't any. It was horrible and I was so lonely.
Brian finally graduated, got a good job and I started taking a few classes at the community college. I got in one semester, but they were all remedial classes. I was planning on my second semester when we found out I was pregnant. Still, I was going to keep going. I got pregnant at the beginning of summer, and when school was starting up, I was about 8 weeks pregnant. And I got sick. Really sick. I remember the first day of school, driving down to Gallatin (we lived in Portland), and stopping several times to puke. I felt like death. I got to my first class and only was able to stay about 5 minutes before I needed to throw up again. While in the bathroom, I knew I wasn't going to be able to make it all day. Going in and out of class to puke was just not my idea of fun, and I wouldn't be learning anything. So I went home. And puked on the side of the road several times again.
I was hoping that my morning sickness (that lasted all day) wouldn't be a problem and that I'd still be able to go to class. But, I kept getting sick and so Brian and I decided to pull out. Ugh. But, it was what it was. And, I was sick until about 20 weeks. It was miserable. I only worked part time, and was somehow able to keep my job.
At the beginning of the new year, I was 7 months pregnant. I quit my job and just stayed home until Ethan was born.
Then he was born and my life changed.
Nobody can prepare you for motherhood. Sure people love to give advice, and tell you what it's all about but nothing helps. I was sure I'd have a perfect labor and delivery but it wasn't. I was sure I'd be able to take my baby home with me, but I didn't. I was sure that I would be able to nurse my baby. But I couldn't. I had no idea what 'mommy guilt' was.
The first year of Ethan's life I was just surviving. I wanted so bad to feel that connection with him, but I didn't. When he was 7 months old, still not sleeping through the night, I was desperate and let him cry it out. I feel horrible about it now. Can't change it, but I haven't done it with the girls.
It took me a good long while to breathe. Brian started Graduate school, and the stress of having a new baby and having no husband was really hard. Brian wasn't around and when he was, he was so tired and worn out that it was like he wasn't there. I still don't know how I made it through those years. After Brian graduated, and Ethan was now 3 years old, we got pregnant with Hannah.
I was still sick with her. All I wanted to do was sleep, but now I had a 3 year old and couldn't. I started taking Zofran early in my pregnancy, and while it helped, I still felt blah. I was planning on having a natural childbirth. I had done a TON of reading, and I just felt like I could do it. I was also going to nurse her. Everything was going to be different this time.
But, I ended up having a csection, and while I did take her home, and we did have that amazing bonding I so craved with Ethan, things were still hard. I knew what it was like to recover from a vaginal birth. I thought my recovery with Ethan was horrible. But...recovering from a csection...I wanted to die. Ethan's recovery was like a walk in the park on a nice sunny day compared to a csection. I felt like my guts were going to fall out at any minute, and I was always hurting. It hurt to hold Hannah. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move.
When we got home, I was nursing her. Everyone I knew said that they loved nursing their babies. It was more bonding and it just made them happy. I was looking for that happiness, and I couldn't find it. Feeding her was so uncomfortable, not because my boobs were sore, but because my csection hurt. I could feel my body getting thrown back into the depression, and I tried so hard to just suck it up. But, it broke me. I think that because I had planned on doing things naturally, and then do the exact opposite, really tore me down. I felt like I had failed. I didn't even try to have a normal delivery. My dr scared me into having a csection, and I didn't believe in myself enough to trust my body.
Nursing didn't work either. I remember one evening I was nursing Hannah. Alex sent me a text message to see how I was doing, and I told her that I was nursing. She replied with, 'Don't you just LOVE it?'. I started to cry. I didn't love it. I hated it. And what made it worse, is that I didn't know why I hated it. To make a long story short, I had problems producing milk, and I made the decision to bottle feed. I was already so emotional and drained that doing things to get my milk back was so overwhelming, I just couldn't do it. I told myself that I wasn't going to let myself feel guilty about it, but I do.
Because I wasn't nursing Hannah anymore, I knew I needed some medicine. I started on Celexa, but it made me soooo sick, so I switched to something else. I took it for a while, but didn't really feel like it was doing much. I ended up just stopping everything and just tried to do things on my own. Things got really messy (I wont get into that now), and I needed to start on something again. So I started a new medicine.
...And then I got pregnant with Sara.
I'm going to go into what I felt when I got pregnant. I hope I don't offend anyone, and if I do, I'm so sorry, but I can't change how I felt.
When I got pregnant, I was in a really bad place. My mental health was not good. My marriage was having issues, I was a mess. I had stopped taking my birth control because I felt like maybe it was contributing to my hormone issues. Brian and I weren't getting a lot super well, so I wasn't scared about getting pregnant. I mean, I wasn't taking birth control for over a year before we got pregnant with Hannah. I wasn't worried at all. But, when I was supposed to have my period, I didn't. And, I didn't realize it because I wasn't used to tracking it anyway. About a week after I was supposed to start, that's when I realized I missed it. I thought back and remembered that Brian and I did have sex...(one of those dumb make up sex...and I told you I was going to be honest ha), but I still didn't think I was pregnant. I had JUST stopped taking the pill. But, because I was taking an antidepressant, I had to know. I didn't say anything to Brian because well, I was for sure I wasn't pregnant and didn't need to worry him. He did know that my period was late because I asked him if stopping the pill can throw it off. I also got online and read that sometimes you can miss a period after stopping. Again, I wasn't worried.
So, I woke up one morning and took a test. Laid it on the bathroom counter and went to the kitchen to take my pills. I wasn't nervous at all. I knew it was going to be negative. But, I went to check and there were two lines. My heart sank. I felt like passing out. Or throwing up. I was in shock! I honestly didn't think I was pregnant. Why on earth would Heavenly Father send me a baby at a time like this?! Immediately I started crying. This couldn't be happening. I had just started to feel better with the new pills I was taking, and I was hopeful that I would be getting back on track. I had JUST lost 10 pounds too!! A million things ran through my mind. Things that I didn't need to worry about. Like the fact that we'd have to get a new car. Or, a new crib because Hannah was still a baby. She wasn't even One yet! And then I started crying harder because I did NOT want another csection. I was so scared. When I went in for my 6 week checkup after Hannah was born, the nurse told me not to get pregnant for at least a year. I was worried that it was too soon and that my uterus was going to burst open because it hadn't healed all the way (dumb, I know, but I was in panic mode). And, I had also asked my dr then that if for some reason I were to get pregnant again, would I have to have a csection. He said that he would strongly recommend it. So, I didn't want to go back to him. I didn't want to fight him to have a vbac.
When I picked myself up off the floor, I went upstairs with Ethan and Hannah. Brian was still sleeping and I didn't want to wake him. I didn't even want to tell him. I tried texting Alex but she wasn't responding. I probably sent 15 text messages to her saying to call me when she got up, and asking if she was awake yet. I needed to talk to her! When she finally called, the first thing she asked was, 'are you pregnant'. And I burst into tears again. We spend probably a good hour on the phone. I felt sick to my stomach. I really didn't want to be pregnant. I was so overwhelmed with having two kids, that 3 made my head spin.
I knew I had to tell Brian. I just didn't know how. Our relationship then was really rocky. Things had happened that hurt the both of us and to be pregnant...it just didn't feel right. I waited until Hannah took her nap, and I made Ethan watch a movie upstairs. I didn't want to be interrupted. At first he didn't believe me but then I started crying again. He took it fairly well...better than me. He kept saying over and over that it was going to be ok.
I found a new doctor and he was totally on board with doing a vbac. I did a lot of research and felt like that was what I was supposed do.
I hated how I felt the whole pregnancy. I wanted Ethan and Hannah. I did not want Sara. I resented being pregnant, I hated how I looked and felt. Every time something happened with my body or I had to do something differently because I was pregnant, I got mad. I was annoyed that I couldn't take my antidepressants, I was annoyed that I was tired and I still had to take care of my 2 kids. Everything pissed me off. I was so miserable and depressed the whole time.
I tried though. I really did try to be happy. I didn't tell anyone (except Alex and Brian) how I was really feeling because I felt bad. I felt so incredibly guilty about not wanting a baby when there were so many woman out there who would kill to have a baby. When I wasn't crying because I was pregnant, I was crying because I felt horrible about how I felt. So many guilty tears fell from my eyes. If people asked how I was doing, 'I'm fine' was always the answer. But inside I was dying.
I really wanted to go into labor. But, at my 37 week appt. my dr informed me that he was going to be out of town the week I was due. The other drs there don't do vbacs, so if I went into labor while he was gone, I'd have to have a csection. After talking to Brian, thinking a lot, we decided that if I didn't go into labor before my dr left, I'd have a csection at 39 weeks. And, that's what happened. Hours after my csection, my dr left for vacation. Even to this day, I hate that it didn't happen. My recovery with her was so much better than Hannah...I knew what to expect. But in a way I still felt like I failed again. I didn't let my body do what it was designed to do. People have since told me that if I went into labor, I could refuse a csection. I guess I have issues with authority because if I went in labor and they said I couldn't have a vbac, I would have just said ok and not fought. Lame.
I have had several people tell me that I didn't fail, and that it's ok to have csections, and believe me, I've tried to convince myself of that too, but there's still something that just bugs me about it. I wanted it so bad, but when the time came, I caved. I didn't stand up for myself. I don't know if I'll ever be ok with having csections and bottle feeding my kids.
So after Sara was born, I was really worried about how bad my depression would be. I was so scared that I wouldn't want her, wouldn't love her, and that there would be no bond. I remember seeing her for the first time, and not feeling anything. That scared the freaking crap out of me. While they were stitching me up, cleaning Sara up and doing all the newborn stuff, I remember crying and thinking, 'I don't want a baby'. And I felt all alone because I was. Nobody knew how I was feeling at that moment. Everyone in the room was so excited and happy. And I was crying in pain. Just like with everything else, I put on a happy face and said they were tears of joy.
I had her on a friday and the rest of the day went fine. After getting into my room, I felt ok. I held Sara, and even though I didn't feel what I wanted, I knew that I loved her. She was perfect. Saturday though was a different story. I was really weepy and felt overwhelmed. I also wanted to just be home. Because everything went well, I was able to go home on Sunday.
That was all just 19 months ago. It took me a few months to connect with Sara and be grateful for her. Now, I can't imagine our family without her. I love her so much and she is the sweetest thing ever.
But now I have 3 kids. All very demanding kids. Being a mother is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It never ends. I struggle a lot with who I am as a mother, and if I'm doing things right. I think the hardest part about what I'm dealing with right now, is that I don't enjoy what I'm doing. I don't enjoy being a mother. I want to so bad, and it kills me that I don't.
So my next post will be on that.
I remember growing up wanting nothing more than to just be a mommy. I didn't have any other plans (besides getting married...can't be a mommy without a hubby). I didn't plan on going to school and getting some awesome degree, having a wonderful paying job...I just wanted to be a mom. And that's exactly what I did.
After Brian and I got married, he started nursing school right away, and I got a job. The first two years of our marriage is really a blur. Brian was going to school an hour and a half away, so during the week, he'd stay up there with some friends. I didn't know anyone here, I had no friends, the girls at work were not people I wanted to hang out with, and the girls at church...well, lets just say that there weren't any. It was horrible and I was so lonely.
Brian finally graduated, got a good job and I started taking a few classes at the community college. I got in one semester, but they were all remedial classes. I was planning on my second semester when we found out I was pregnant. Still, I was going to keep going. I got pregnant at the beginning of summer, and when school was starting up, I was about 8 weeks pregnant. And I got sick. Really sick. I remember the first day of school, driving down to Gallatin (we lived in Portland), and stopping several times to puke. I felt like death. I got to my first class and only was able to stay about 5 minutes before I needed to throw up again. While in the bathroom, I knew I wasn't going to be able to make it all day. Going in and out of class to puke was just not my idea of fun, and I wouldn't be learning anything. So I went home. And puked on the side of the road several times again.
I was hoping that my morning sickness (that lasted all day) wouldn't be a problem and that I'd still be able to go to class. But, I kept getting sick and so Brian and I decided to pull out. Ugh. But, it was what it was. And, I was sick until about 20 weeks. It was miserable. I only worked part time, and was somehow able to keep my job.
At the beginning of the new year, I was 7 months pregnant. I quit my job and just stayed home until Ethan was born.
Then he was born and my life changed.
Nobody can prepare you for motherhood. Sure people love to give advice, and tell you what it's all about but nothing helps. I was sure I'd have a perfect labor and delivery but it wasn't. I was sure I'd be able to take my baby home with me, but I didn't. I was sure that I would be able to nurse my baby. But I couldn't. I had no idea what 'mommy guilt' was.
The first year of Ethan's life I was just surviving. I wanted so bad to feel that connection with him, but I didn't. When he was 7 months old, still not sleeping through the night, I was desperate and let him cry it out. I feel horrible about it now. Can't change it, but I haven't done it with the girls.
It took me a good long while to breathe. Brian started Graduate school, and the stress of having a new baby and having no husband was really hard. Brian wasn't around and when he was, he was so tired and worn out that it was like he wasn't there. I still don't know how I made it through those years. After Brian graduated, and Ethan was now 3 years old, we got pregnant with Hannah.
I was still sick with her. All I wanted to do was sleep, but now I had a 3 year old and couldn't. I started taking Zofran early in my pregnancy, and while it helped, I still felt blah. I was planning on having a natural childbirth. I had done a TON of reading, and I just felt like I could do it. I was also going to nurse her. Everything was going to be different this time.
But, I ended up having a csection, and while I did take her home, and we did have that amazing bonding I so craved with Ethan, things were still hard. I knew what it was like to recover from a vaginal birth. I thought my recovery with Ethan was horrible. But...recovering from a csection...I wanted to die. Ethan's recovery was like a walk in the park on a nice sunny day compared to a csection. I felt like my guts were going to fall out at any minute, and I was always hurting. It hurt to hold Hannah. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move.
When we got home, I was nursing her. Everyone I knew said that they loved nursing their babies. It was more bonding and it just made them happy. I was looking for that happiness, and I couldn't find it. Feeding her was so uncomfortable, not because my boobs were sore, but because my csection hurt. I could feel my body getting thrown back into the depression, and I tried so hard to just suck it up. But, it broke me. I think that because I had planned on doing things naturally, and then do the exact opposite, really tore me down. I felt like I had failed. I didn't even try to have a normal delivery. My dr scared me into having a csection, and I didn't believe in myself enough to trust my body.
Nursing didn't work either. I remember one evening I was nursing Hannah. Alex sent me a text message to see how I was doing, and I told her that I was nursing. She replied with, 'Don't you just LOVE it?'. I started to cry. I didn't love it. I hated it. And what made it worse, is that I didn't know why I hated it. To make a long story short, I had problems producing milk, and I made the decision to bottle feed. I was already so emotional and drained that doing things to get my milk back was so overwhelming, I just couldn't do it. I told myself that I wasn't going to let myself feel guilty about it, but I do.
Because I wasn't nursing Hannah anymore, I knew I needed some medicine. I started on Celexa, but it made me soooo sick, so I switched to something else. I took it for a while, but didn't really feel like it was doing much. I ended up just stopping everything and just tried to do things on my own. Things got really messy (I wont get into that now), and I needed to start on something again. So I started a new medicine.
...And then I got pregnant with Sara.
I'm going to go into what I felt when I got pregnant. I hope I don't offend anyone, and if I do, I'm so sorry, but I can't change how I felt.
When I got pregnant, I was in a really bad place. My mental health was not good. My marriage was having issues, I was a mess. I had stopped taking my birth control because I felt like maybe it was contributing to my hormone issues. Brian and I weren't getting a lot super well, so I wasn't scared about getting pregnant. I mean, I wasn't taking birth control for over a year before we got pregnant with Hannah. I wasn't worried at all. But, when I was supposed to have my period, I didn't. And, I didn't realize it because I wasn't used to tracking it anyway. About a week after I was supposed to start, that's when I realized I missed it. I thought back and remembered that Brian and I did have sex...(one of those dumb make up sex...and I told you I was going to be honest ha), but I still didn't think I was pregnant. I had JUST stopped taking the pill. But, because I was taking an antidepressant, I had to know. I didn't say anything to Brian because well, I was for sure I wasn't pregnant and didn't need to worry him. He did know that my period was late because I asked him if stopping the pill can throw it off. I also got online and read that sometimes you can miss a period after stopping. Again, I wasn't worried.
So, I woke up one morning and took a test. Laid it on the bathroom counter and went to the kitchen to take my pills. I wasn't nervous at all. I knew it was going to be negative. But, I went to check and there were two lines. My heart sank. I felt like passing out. Or throwing up. I was in shock! I honestly didn't think I was pregnant. Why on earth would Heavenly Father send me a baby at a time like this?! Immediately I started crying. This couldn't be happening. I had just started to feel better with the new pills I was taking, and I was hopeful that I would be getting back on track. I had JUST lost 10 pounds too!! A million things ran through my mind. Things that I didn't need to worry about. Like the fact that we'd have to get a new car. Or, a new crib because Hannah was still a baby. She wasn't even One yet! And then I started crying harder because I did NOT want another csection. I was so scared. When I went in for my 6 week checkup after Hannah was born, the nurse told me not to get pregnant for at least a year. I was worried that it was too soon and that my uterus was going to burst open because it hadn't healed all the way (dumb, I know, but I was in panic mode). And, I had also asked my dr then that if for some reason I were to get pregnant again, would I have to have a csection. He said that he would strongly recommend it. So, I didn't want to go back to him. I didn't want to fight him to have a vbac.
When I picked myself up off the floor, I went upstairs with Ethan and Hannah. Brian was still sleeping and I didn't want to wake him. I didn't even want to tell him. I tried texting Alex but she wasn't responding. I probably sent 15 text messages to her saying to call me when she got up, and asking if she was awake yet. I needed to talk to her! When she finally called, the first thing she asked was, 'are you pregnant'. And I burst into tears again. We spend probably a good hour on the phone. I felt sick to my stomach. I really didn't want to be pregnant. I was so overwhelmed with having two kids, that 3 made my head spin.
I knew I had to tell Brian. I just didn't know how. Our relationship then was really rocky. Things had happened that hurt the both of us and to be pregnant...it just didn't feel right. I waited until Hannah took her nap, and I made Ethan watch a movie upstairs. I didn't want to be interrupted. At first he didn't believe me but then I started crying again. He took it fairly well...better than me. He kept saying over and over that it was going to be ok.
I found a new doctor and he was totally on board with doing a vbac. I did a lot of research and felt like that was what I was supposed do.
I hated how I felt the whole pregnancy. I wanted Ethan and Hannah. I did not want Sara. I resented being pregnant, I hated how I looked and felt. Every time something happened with my body or I had to do something differently because I was pregnant, I got mad. I was annoyed that I couldn't take my antidepressants, I was annoyed that I was tired and I still had to take care of my 2 kids. Everything pissed me off. I was so miserable and depressed the whole time.
I tried though. I really did try to be happy. I didn't tell anyone (except Alex and Brian) how I was really feeling because I felt bad. I felt so incredibly guilty about not wanting a baby when there were so many woman out there who would kill to have a baby. When I wasn't crying because I was pregnant, I was crying because I felt horrible about how I felt. So many guilty tears fell from my eyes. If people asked how I was doing, 'I'm fine' was always the answer. But inside I was dying.
I really wanted to go into labor. But, at my 37 week appt. my dr informed me that he was going to be out of town the week I was due. The other drs there don't do vbacs, so if I went into labor while he was gone, I'd have to have a csection. After talking to Brian, thinking a lot, we decided that if I didn't go into labor before my dr left, I'd have a csection at 39 weeks. And, that's what happened. Hours after my csection, my dr left for vacation. Even to this day, I hate that it didn't happen. My recovery with her was so much better than Hannah...I knew what to expect. But in a way I still felt like I failed again. I didn't let my body do what it was designed to do. People have since told me that if I went into labor, I could refuse a csection. I guess I have issues with authority because if I went in labor and they said I couldn't have a vbac, I would have just said ok and not fought. Lame.
I have had several people tell me that I didn't fail, and that it's ok to have csections, and believe me, I've tried to convince myself of that too, but there's still something that just bugs me about it. I wanted it so bad, but when the time came, I caved. I didn't stand up for myself. I don't know if I'll ever be ok with having csections and bottle feeding my kids.
So after Sara was born, I was really worried about how bad my depression would be. I was so scared that I wouldn't want her, wouldn't love her, and that there would be no bond. I remember seeing her for the first time, and not feeling anything. That scared the freaking crap out of me. While they were stitching me up, cleaning Sara up and doing all the newborn stuff, I remember crying and thinking, 'I don't want a baby'. And I felt all alone because I was. Nobody knew how I was feeling at that moment. Everyone in the room was so excited and happy. And I was crying in pain. Just like with everything else, I put on a happy face and said they were tears of joy.
I had her on a friday and the rest of the day went fine. After getting into my room, I felt ok. I held Sara, and even though I didn't feel what I wanted, I knew that I loved her. She was perfect. Saturday though was a different story. I was really weepy and felt overwhelmed. I also wanted to just be home. Because everything went well, I was able to go home on Sunday.
That was all just 19 months ago. It took me a few months to connect with Sara and be grateful for her. Now, I can't imagine our family without her. I love her so much and she is the sweetest thing ever.
But now I have 3 kids. All very demanding kids. Being a mother is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It never ends. I struggle a lot with who I am as a mother, and if I'm doing things right. I think the hardest part about what I'm dealing with right now, is that I don't enjoy what I'm doing. I don't enjoy being a mother. I want to so bad, and it kills me that I don't.
So my next post will be on that.
Monday, May 19, 2014
The Start
I've decided to start this blog so I have a place to write out my feelings, without bombarding my family blog with my crazy thoughts and feelings. I feel like I can be more open here. Some posts will be short, maybe just a thought or two I had. And then some will probably be just a big huge jumble of words. I want to be totally honest and open here. I've always felt better after writing something down, so hopefully in doing this, I can heal some more.
I've dealt with depression since Ethan was born more than 7 years ago. I remember the first time I really felt like something was seriously wrong.
Ethan had been in the NICU for two weeks. When we brought him home, I was already feeling off, but my hormones were still trying to get back to normal. I didn't have that bond with Ethan the way I felt like I should, and because nursing wasn't happening, I felt that much more terrible. I tried as much as I could to be happy...my baby was finally home, but I couldn't.
Brian was working night shift then, and one night while my mom was still there helping, I remember Ethan sleeping in his little bed next to mine, I got down on my knees to say my nightly prayers, I lost it. I started crying so hard I couldn't hardly breathe. I knew exactly why I was crying, and the reasoning probably made me cry even harder. I didn't want Ethan. I didn't want to take care of him. And I didn't know why. I wanted him to be taken care of, but I just didn't want to do it.
I felt horrible. Here was this brand new baby, perfectly fine, nothing wrong, and yet, I didn't want anything to do with him. I got up and went to get my mom. I tried to tell her through my tears what was wrong. I felt so stupid telling her that I didn't want my baby. She got on the phone and called people in my ward to see if I could get a blessing since Brian was at work. It wasn't long before a couple of guys from the ward showed up.
I was a wreck the rest of the night still. My mom was kind enough to take Ethan for the night so I could just sleep. I remember crying myself to sleep that night.
When she left, I felt this overwhelming sense of terror. I didn't know how I was going to survive without her help.
And here I am now, 7 years later, still dealing with depression. Can't say that it's post pardom depression, but it has robbed me of a lot of good. I have explained what's been going on lately on my other blog, and I really don't feel like writing all down again, so I'll just start from where I am today.
Over the weekend, I've had so many emotions, feelings, and thoughts swirling around in my head. I have had people tell me that depression is all a choice or a habit and that it's all in my head. Then I feel like even more crap because I'm not strong enough to just snap out of it. I have been trying so hard to just choose to be happy. Choose to not let things get to me. Choose to have a better attitude about things, and sometimes it works. There are days, even weeks that I'm ok and I'm not struggling to get through the day. But on the same hand, there are days, weeks and months where I feel like I can't get out of my own horror movie. Nothing I do helps and I feel like I'm barely surviving. Everything that has helped before, doesn't help now. It's a horrible place to be. It's even more horrible when I can't even figure out why I'm feeling this way. Nothing horrible happened to get me down, nothing happened differently...it just happens. It's annoying and I hate it. And then to try and explain to someone who doesn't know what depression is like, is more than I can bare. You can't understand it unless you've dealt with it yourself, or have had close family/friends who have. It's miserable.
Because I had someone say to me that it's a habit, I got online and did some searching. I found the perfect comparison. You can get on your roof and jump off. You can choose to fly. It's a decision, right? Instead of falling, you just choose to fly because it's a CHOICE. But, no matter how much you convince yourself that you can fly, you've made the choice to fly, it isn't going to happen. You are going to fall. Then the more I thought about that, I came up with my own little theory. If you want to fly, really fly, then you have to get help. Make some wings, or get a jet pack...something to HELP you fly. Then, you can jump and not fall because you have the support you need. Same with depression. The help that I need is medicine. I need something to help me fly so I can be myself again and function.
People make the comparison with diabetes, cancer or any other sickness. If you need meds, you TAKE them. I have depression, so I've decided to medicate. It isn't the first time either. I've tried several different ones, but the one I felt was helping the best, I was taking when I got pregnant with Sara. I stopped because I didn't feel comfortable taking it while pregnant. Up until now, I haven't felt like I've needed medicine again. Therapy has been so good to me, but I need a little extra help to get me through. I was able to get an RX today and I've started taking them. I have hope again. I can't wait to start feeling better, and stop pretending everything is ok.
I'm going to fly again. I know it. I just need help.
I've dealt with depression since Ethan was born more than 7 years ago. I remember the first time I really felt like something was seriously wrong.
Ethan had been in the NICU for two weeks. When we brought him home, I was already feeling off, but my hormones were still trying to get back to normal. I didn't have that bond with Ethan the way I felt like I should, and because nursing wasn't happening, I felt that much more terrible. I tried as much as I could to be happy...my baby was finally home, but I couldn't.
Brian was working night shift then, and one night while my mom was still there helping, I remember Ethan sleeping in his little bed next to mine, I got down on my knees to say my nightly prayers, I lost it. I started crying so hard I couldn't hardly breathe. I knew exactly why I was crying, and the reasoning probably made me cry even harder. I didn't want Ethan. I didn't want to take care of him. And I didn't know why. I wanted him to be taken care of, but I just didn't want to do it.
I felt horrible. Here was this brand new baby, perfectly fine, nothing wrong, and yet, I didn't want anything to do with him. I got up and went to get my mom. I tried to tell her through my tears what was wrong. I felt so stupid telling her that I didn't want my baby. She got on the phone and called people in my ward to see if I could get a blessing since Brian was at work. It wasn't long before a couple of guys from the ward showed up.
I was a wreck the rest of the night still. My mom was kind enough to take Ethan for the night so I could just sleep. I remember crying myself to sleep that night.
When she left, I felt this overwhelming sense of terror. I didn't know how I was going to survive without her help.
And here I am now, 7 years later, still dealing with depression. Can't say that it's post pardom depression, but it has robbed me of a lot of good. I have explained what's been going on lately on my other blog, and I really don't feel like writing all down again, so I'll just start from where I am today.
Over the weekend, I've had so many emotions, feelings, and thoughts swirling around in my head. I have had people tell me that depression is all a choice or a habit and that it's all in my head. Then I feel like even more crap because I'm not strong enough to just snap out of it. I have been trying so hard to just choose to be happy. Choose to not let things get to me. Choose to have a better attitude about things, and sometimes it works. There are days, even weeks that I'm ok and I'm not struggling to get through the day. But on the same hand, there are days, weeks and months where I feel like I can't get out of my own horror movie. Nothing I do helps and I feel like I'm barely surviving. Everything that has helped before, doesn't help now. It's a horrible place to be. It's even more horrible when I can't even figure out why I'm feeling this way. Nothing horrible happened to get me down, nothing happened differently...it just happens. It's annoying and I hate it. And then to try and explain to someone who doesn't know what depression is like, is more than I can bare. You can't understand it unless you've dealt with it yourself, or have had close family/friends who have. It's miserable.
Because I had someone say to me that it's a habit, I got online and did some searching. I found the perfect comparison. You can get on your roof and jump off. You can choose to fly. It's a decision, right? Instead of falling, you just choose to fly because it's a CHOICE. But, no matter how much you convince yourself that you can fly, you've made the choice to fly, it isn't going to happen. You are going to fall. Then the more I thought about that, I came up with my own little theory. If you want to fly, really fly, then you have to get help. Make some wings, or get a jet pack...something to HELP you fly. Then, you can jump and not fall because you have the support you need. Same with depression. The help that I need is medicine. I need something to help me fly so I can be myself again and function.
People make the comparison with diabetes, cancer or any other sickness. If you need meds, you TAKE them. I have depression, so I've decided to medicate. It isn't the first time either. I've tried several different ones, but the one I felt was helping the best, I was taking when I got pregnant with Sara. I stopped because I didn't feel comfortable taking it while pregnant. Up until now, I haven't felt like I've needed medicine again. Therapy has been so good to me, but I need a little extra help to get me through. I was able to get an RX today and I've started taking them. I have hope again. I can't wait to start feeling better, and stop pretending everything is ok.
I'm going to fly again. I know it. I just need help.
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