The Aftermath....

Postpartum Depression sucks! That's right... it down right sucks. I hated it... with a passion. Praise God that the haze and fatigue and downright nastiness of it are gone.
I was determined to ward off the dreaded "PPD" again. It seems that with Brooke things were A-OK- even in the midst of her inability to nurse or gain weight. We plugged along, and, I felt great!

Oh, but Shane....
Let me begin by saying that I will never again sign any release at any hospital for any anesthesiologist giving them the ability to stick anything anywhere near my back! Bah! I had a Wet Tap with my Epidural. And, I continue to kick myself because, when the Epidural finally took effect, I was an 8! Seriously?! It just makes me mad....
So, by the end of Shane's third week of life, I finally changed his first diaper. Yes, that's right. The headaches were so severe that I could not stand to change his diaper. I nursed him laying in my bed... for three full weeks.
Once they subsided I was fine. Life could resume. I could take care of my babies and create some kind of routine! We went garage saling, out for walks, got together with friends/family...

Then it hit me....

Like a ton of bricks!

Shane must have been six or eight weeks old when it hit, and, it was horrible. Now, I am not talking about severe PPD, but, it was NOT ME! My moods were horrible.... I lost my patience with Brooke more times than I can even count; my milk supply waned- which meant being up all night feeding to make up for those lost ounces. That in turn led to extreme and utter exhaustion! And... fatigue then breeds more Cortisol which messes with moods, milk.... the cycle continues.

I remember saying to both my mom and my husband, "Am I depressed? Do depressed people recognize that they are depressed? I think I'm depressed..."

At least I could recognize that I was in some way depressed. It wasn't until my sister-in-law went into full cardiac arrest that I finally began to snap out of it. Rob said that he has read about treatments for depression, no matter what the type, and that one of the recommendations is to help others in need...
For me, I think it was the fact that I wasn't focusing on myself at those moments. It was about Nichole- praying without ceasing for her to wake up without brain damage and with no damage to her heart. It was about Mike- does he have support? Is he eating and getting some rest? What does he need? It was about my dear niece and nephew- who, quite frankly, could have been left without their mommy. Were they taken care of?
That experience allowed me to pull myself up by my bootstraps- because I had to- and focus on someone/something else! It pulled me out of my depression by teaching me, once again, that the Lord is in control, that He hears our prayers, and, that it isn't always about me.

I asked Rob the other day, "Have you noticed a change in me?"
His response, "Yeah. Ever since Nichole..."