A little (very transparent) catch up
Well it's been a minute since I posted anything here, now hasn't it? When I started this blog I didn't think it would be the place where I would share our most special announcements and that would be it. I started it so that far away family and friends could keep up with us a little more intimately than they do via social media, so I could have a writing outlet, and so we could encourage people in whatever way that looked like through this space. My posts don't really follow any common theme or focus, and I've tried to do that intentionally to give us freedom to share about whatever it is we feel like we need to (or want to).
I've known for about a year now that eventually I would need to sit down and write this post. I also knew back then that I was no where close to being in a position to write it. But, over the last couple weeks I've felt a quiet nudge towards my laptop and this little blog.
I want to preface this post with a few notes...
1. I've turned the comments section off on purpose. If you feel the need to comment, you can reach out to me privately.
2. I am speaking about my own experiences and no one else's. I am not making blanket claims about other women and their feelings or mental health.
3. I have an incredible support system. When I chose to let other people know about what I was walking through has absolutely nothing to do with my relationship with them, my level of respect for them, or whether or not I wanted them to walk through this journey with me. It followed no formula.
I remember laughing at my nurse during my 6 week-postpartum appointment after Jase was born. She asked me the standard postpartum questions about my well-being, and when she asked me if I'd been experiencing any kind of "baby blues," I actually laughed. I laughed at her because sadness, depression, fatigue, any of those things were the farthest feelings from my mind.
And then 2-3 weeks later, I was a sobbing puddle on my kitchen floor. I remember telling my husband in the weeks that followed, "Something is wrong with me. I don't know what it is. But, I'm not OK."
I reached out to a close friend who happens to be a women's health nurse. I thought maybe my new IUD was causing me to be extra emotional. She so delicately and sensitively encouraged me that I could be experiencing a bit of postpartum depression, and it wouldn't hurt to go in and talk with my doctor.
"No way," I thought. It definitely wasn't that.
I read everything I could get my hands on regarding postpartum depression. Not blog post kind of stuff. Actual scientific, research publications used to educate health care professionals.
I wasn't that woman.
I put make up on every day.
I was exercising regularly.
I have an amazing support system, locally and far away.
I have THE BEST husband.
I was on maternity leave.
Jase slept great.
I love and adore my children.
I wasn't this woman I kept reading about in paper after paper...
Then our cousin Lucy had her car accident, and I found myself sitting in a hospital waiting room being offered the opportunity to go back and see her in her ICU room to say good-bye before they took her off life support.
And I knew the tiny threads that were keeping my sanity together would disintegrate the minute I walked into her room, and then I would most likely have to be admitted myself.
So I called my doctor and got an appointment for that week.
As I sat there on his exam table, with Jase in my lap, my doctor sitting on his stool, and my nurse standing against the wall, I knew I wasn't the same woman they'd seen a couple months prior. The woman who laughed at the baby blues question.
I told them about all the things I'd been experiencing, about the encouragement my friend had given me, and even about how David (who has a degree in psychology) had so sweetly encouraged me during one of my "episodes" that I was ok and that I was probably experiencing some postpartum.
Tears were streaming down my face as I explained to my doctor that I love my children and I love my life and that I had absolutely nothing to be sad about, but something just wasn't right.
Going in to see my doctor that day was step #2 to getting me to the better place that I am now.
Step #1 was letting a small handful of people know how I was feeling.
Step #2 was going to the doctor.
Step #3 was getting on a low dose antidepressant.
Step #4 was time.
Somewhere in that time I did need a little med-dosage adjustment, and I started taking some probiotics that I really think are making a big difference as well.
I also started talking about what I was going through with more people. Not all of them responded kindly. But, a lot of them did. And, just like David said, and just like my friend said, and just like my doctor said, I started to get better.
I could get into more details about little things I've tried to focus on this past year while I've been on this journey, but I think that would require more of a blog series than a post.
Depression is a hot topic right now. In fact, for that very reason I've straddled the fence on posting this. I know a lot of people are going to take what I've written here the wrong way, and I ask that you respect note #3 above.
This season has taught (is teaching) me so much about transparency and not just talking about things but actually doing things. (Another post to come on this soon, I promise.) So, that's essentially what this post is.
I don't want anyone to look at my social media accounts and think I have it all together, my life is perfect, and I'm some super mom / wife / goal-getter. And most importantly, I don't want moms who are sitting in those puddles like I was to think they're alone. So, here's me waving to you through your screen. Hi. I'm Lindsay, and I've been there. I don't think any less of you, and you can stop thinking less of yourself now too. You're not alone. And it's going to be ok. There are a lot more of us out here who understand exactly how you're feeling. <3
I've known for about a year now that eventually I would need to sit down and write this post. I also knew back then that I was no where close to being in a position to write it. But, over the last couple weeks I've felt a quiet nudge towards my laptop and this little blog.
I want to preface this post with a few notes...
1. I've turned the comments section off on purpose. If you feel the need to comment, you can reach out to me privately.
2. I am speaking about my own experiences and no one else's. I am not making blanket claims about other women and their feelings or mental health.
3. I have an incredible support system. When I chose to let other people know about what I was walking through has absolutely nothing to do with my relationship with them, my level of respect for them, or whether or not I wanted them to walk through this journey with me. It followed no formula.
I remember laughing at my nurse during my 6 week-postpartum appointment after Jase was born. She asked me the standard postpartum questions about my well-being, and when she asked me if I'd been experiencing any kind of "baby blues," I actually laughed. I laughed at her because sadness, depression, fatigue, any of those things were the farthest feelings from my mind.
And then 2-3 weeks later, I was a sobbing puddle on my kitchen floor. I remember telling my husband in the weeks that followed, "Something is wrong with me. I don't know what it is. But, I'm not OK."
I reached out to a close friend who happens to be a women's health nurse. I thought maybe my new IUD was causing me to be extra emotional. She so delicately and sensitively encouraged me that I could be experiencing a bit of postpartum depression, and it wouldn't hurt to go in and talk with my doctor.
"No way," I thought. It definitely wasn't that.
I read everything I could get my hands on regarding postpartum depression. Not blog post kind of stuff. Actual scientific, research publications used to educate health care professionals.
I wasn't that woman.
I put make up on every day.
I was exercising regularly.
I have an amazing support system, locally and far away.
I have THE BEST husband.
I was on maternity leave.
Jase slept great.
I love and adore my children.
I wasn't this woman I kept reading about in paper after paper...
Then our cousin Lucy had her car accident, and I found myself sitting in a hospital waiting room being offered the opportunity to go back and see her in her ICU room to say good-bye before they took her off life support.
And I knew the tiny threads that were keeping my sanity together would disintegrate the minute I walked into her room, and then I would most likely have to be admitted myself.
So I called my doctor and got an appointment for that week.
As I sat there on his exam table, with Jase in my lap, my doctor sitting on his stool, and my nurse standing against the wall, I knew I wasn't the same woman they'd seen a couple months prior. The woman who laughed at the baby blues question.
I told them about all the things I'd been experiencing, about the encouragement my friend had given me, and even about how David (who has a degree in psychology) had so sweetly encouraged me during one of my "episodes" that I was ok and that I was probably experiencing some postpartum.
Tears were streaming down my face as I explained to my doctor that I love my children and I love my life and that I had absolutely nothing to be sad about, but something just wasn't right.
Going in to see my doctor that day was step #2 to getting me to the better place that I am now.
Step #1 was letting a small handful of people know how I was feeling.
Step #2 was going to the doctor.
Step #3 was getting on a low dose antidepressant.
Step #4 was time.
Somewhere in that time I did need a little med-dosage adjustment, and I started taking some probiotics that I really think are making a big difference as well.
I also started talking about what I was going through with more people. Not all of them responded kindly. But, a lot of them did. And, just like David said, and just like my friend said, and just like my doctor said, I started to get better.
I could get into more details about little things I've tried to focus on this past year while I've been on this journey, but I think that would require more of a blog series than a post.
Depression is a hot topic right now. In fact, for that very reason I've straddled the fence on posting this. I know a lot of people are going to take what I've written here the wrong way, and I ask that you respect note #3 above.
This season has taught (is teaching) me so much about transparency and not just talking about things but actually doing things. (Another post to come on this soon, I promise.) So, that's essentially what this post is.
I don't want anyone to look at my social media accounts and think I have it all together, my life is perfect, and I'm some super mom / wife / goal-getter. And most importantly, I don't want moms who are sitting in those puddles like I was to think they're alone. So, here's me waving to you through your screen. Hi. I'm Lindsay, and I've been there. I don't think any less of you, and you can stop thinking less of yourself now too. You're not alone. And it's going to be ok. There are a lot more of us out here who understand exactly how you're feeling. <3