Postpartum Depression

I have never dealt with depression before. I do know grief well. I have had anxiety as long as I have memories. My family is accustomed to mental health in many ways. Histories of addiction, bipolar, schizophrenia, and more. Though two experiences are as unique as each brain. Which is controlling all of these intense conditions. I can list these by name but I can never understand it for another. Just as I could not understand postpartum depression without experience. And my experience of it lacks what comes with postpartum.

A baby. 

I naively believed a baby was the vital part to this specific diagnosis. 

The first time I heard the doctor say it to me, he went on to talk and prescribe treatment. I heard his voice get hollow and far away as I focused on that one word. How can I be postpartum? That word describes the transition from pregnancy to birth. The definition being "the emergence of a baby from the body of its mother; the start of life as a physically separate being." 

The start of life.

Our postpartum was the start of death.

It is a usually brought on by adjusting to motherhood. The fatigue and stress causing a phycological reaction. Mine is magnified, accompanied by loss and all its ever growing grief. Like my Csection recovery, I am told it will be harder because I lack the moments of joy a baby brings, between the lows of depression. 

I am suffering all the sacrifices mothers make in the act of creating life. But only death remains around me. The journey of child loss is a war I fight in my brain and heart. They fight each other. They fight me.

I have spent 7 weeks writing of this world. It began with bleeding out, and I continue to bleed out words. And yet I have barely begun to tap the surface of it all. Postpartum depression seems to be yet another topic the world would rather hide. We praise mothers for their humerus honesty, but shy away from brutal truth. 3 million women are diagnosed with this disease each year. It finds ways to manifest itself whether you acknowledge it or not. It is another layer to discover and work through. 

This post was meant to go on longer but I feel in a fog of confusion trying to pull together the theories of living with this. Although it has been 7 weeks, it still feels like yesterday. And alas my xanax is kicking in, slowly allowing my brain to turn off. A necessity in treatment for my depression. With sleep comes relief. It means another day is both behind and ahead of us. It is also a reminder that I have survived all of these days, 53 days of being postpartum, of grieving, of depression, of anxiety, 

53 days I have conquered and survived it all. This is life after loss. This is postpartum depression, without a baby. This is stillbirth.  

with love, lissa

Humanity

Humanity by definition is "Human Kind."

How odd then that so many humans lack kindness. Through this struggle I call life right now, people have been taken aback when I respond to certain things with kindness. Assuming because I am so broken and empty that I have nothing left to give. However in this new community of bereaved parents, I have discovered that the kindest people are the ones who life has treated unkindly. We know the experience so well, that we strive to put into the world what was taken from us. 

It is why I felt so strongly about our blood drive. It is why most of us have hashtags in our children's honor, that mark the goodness that has come in spite of tragedy. We work hard on trying to adjust the balance that we ourselves cannot find. I see so many passion projects spring out of child loss: comfort boxes, free stillbirth photography, donated park benches, tree's publicly planted in remembrance. Free libraries filled with books dedicated to lost children, somewhere in Minnisota sits a book that starts with "in honor of Anna." 

I had two vastly different days back to back. Someone who saw me yesterday would not think it was possible how I behaved today. It was dependent on how people treated me, but also, and maybe more importantly, how I treated them in return. 

Yesterday I woke up to a message, it does not matter the content, it was just unexpected and started my day in a way I wasn't prepared for. From there we were late leaving the house and it reminded me that, - I knew I was going to be late a lot this summer, I was supposed to be adjusting to life with three kids, one being a newborn. - The thought hit me hard because I am notoriously early, and I had thought about it continually through the pregnancy that it was going to irritate me that life would change without my control. Now here we are, I am still late everywhere we go, but it is because there is no newborn in our lives. 

There is construction in our neighborhood, and it causes traffic. It has been that way for weeks, and I keep forgetting. So it made us even later. While sitting there I wrote the kids camp and explained we would be very late today. Someone behind me laid on the horn because I hadn't continued to inch forward. It was not even a car length difference, we continued to sit in that lane another 8 min unmoving. The noise startled me, I threw up my hand meaning, "sorry" I felt guilty for having been texting, not paying attention. (Even though we weren't moving?) He must have thought I was angry at his honking so in response to my sorry wave, he wildly threw his hands around the car, and I could tell he was yelling at me. The straw fell, and I broke down crying. 

I cried the rest of the way to camp. I actually followed him most of the way and I laughed (while crying, its an art I posses,) when he pulled in front starring me down as he passed me, his license plate referred to God, and I thought, I am literally your neighbor.....did you miss the "Love thy neighbor" passage? I cried the whole way home with an empty car. Climbed into bed and cried myself to sleep. I made sure I set an alarm, otherwise I would have slept the entire day away. I picked up the kids and was invited inside because I looked like A WRECK. I was a wreck! 

It was an out of body experience, in that I knew I wanted to talk with this friend, find comfort she was trying to give me. But I could not make my mouth speak. Even though I was screaming in my head to do just that. I just stood there, continuing to cry. I cried ALL day. It was one of the worst days in the past 7 weeks since we lost Anna. 

Today I woke up to a message from the same interaction as the previous day. Which had stemmed the whole spiral of emotions. They continued the same tone, but I responded instead with more strength and ultimately ending with kindness. Thanking them and telling them something positive in a negative experience. I am not even sure it was read in that way, or taken in hostility. It doesn't matter. I owned my own feelings and followed through on them. 

I drove and let every single car into my backed up traffic lane, that had been ignored while waiting to get in. No honking today, waves of gratitude instead. We made it to drop off only 5 minutes late this time. Having not grocery shopped this week, I had run out of our standard lunchables, and had to run to target to get them for their camp day. While there, I ran into a woman wearing scrubs, and more particularly, they were marked with the logo of my OBGYN's practice. I had read an article a day before about how people say they couldn't be nurses because they don't like needles, blood and vomit. It went on to say those things are the easy part of their job. Its when they have to deliver a child silently that has turned blue already, when they have to tell a pregnant patient there is no heartbeat, THOSE are the hard part about being a nurse. 

I cannot thank my nurses because I don't remember who was there that day. I will never know. But here was one, and from the same practice. I stepped way outside my comfort zone and stopped her, I said "I would really like to give you a hug and thank you for being a nurse." I was crying and she asked if I was ok. "No" I simply responded, "Something happened 7 weeks ago, and you were all so kind to me, I just wanted you to know that as a patient, I appreciate you, even more when you cannot change the outcome. I know those days hurt you guys too." She hugged me again, thanked me and we both smiled as I walked away. 

I chatted with a stranger I met through baby loss for the next hour. I paced a book store in search of a book she recommended as we chatted. Her situation differs from mine. And while I know a whole new world of stillbirth, I didn't know her journey. And it was wonderfully eye opening to talk to someone on that level of learning to understand each other. We are both sorry for each other, even though we are deeply wounded ourselves. I enjoyed our conversation, and there is not much I genuinely enjoy anymore. 

I returned to pick up, and was once again invited inside. This time I could not turn off my mouth. 5 minutes turned into 3 hours. We covered every topic I had been letting weigh my heart down. I told her about both days and how differently I had been affected by them. We laughed, we cried, I told her things I haven't told anyone else. Friends seem to be better therapists than professionals these days. 

Once I got home, my neighbor texted me and invited me over to dinner. Normally I would quietly decline, my picky eaters are often embarrassing to bring to other homes that actually eat food. We have become close after I made a random post last summer and she responded, you guessed it, with kindness. To my surprise my kids tried NEW food and LOVED it, ate their entire meals. They had a great time playing with her kids, and we had a great time empathizing with each other. Love thy neighbor as thyself, maybe she needs to trade license plates with my other neighbor? 

We walked home with the sunsetting, the kids played in the backyard for awhile. And as I sat on the swing watching them and decompressing from my day, I noticed I was smiling. Naturally. Those come so few and far between these days. 

The main difference between these two days was how I chose to handle situations. I chose kindness, even at the cost of myself in some situations. And because of that choice, it was returned unto me.  Even though others may not treat you with kindness, it is always in our power to return it to them. And Maybe if we all started to do this more often, we could change the world, one kindness at a time. We could raise Human Kind back to a humanity to be proud of. 

with love, lissa

my many masks

Grief.

I found many ways to mask mine once before. I wore my many masks with pride. Some even envied what I wore. I spun pain into gold like rumpelstiltskin. A shining beauty in an ugly world. Like a fairy tale hero, you would think I had stood at the gates of hell, dressed wildly in armor & mask, yelling loudly, "I dare you." You would think I won my battle with only a single scar to show. Grief is so simple to those who do not know.

I looked like I was healing. But these were just my masks. That I put on each morning. Dragging myself out of bed to face another day. Choosing carefully which to wear. A new and ever changing mask, for my ever changing grief. A mask for being strong. A mask for happiness. A mask for comfort. A mask for hope. 

Now I feel that the 8 months of pregnancy was just another mask. This time fooling me. I believed it, as others had believed mine. I didn't see it coming when life slipped off the mask. Hell was still waiting for me. My battle had been won, but the war was just beginning. 

I do not wear my masks anymore. I refuse to hide this time. I thought others would be afraid of this deep and dark emotion that has taken over my life. But more & more I'm finding that other people have masks too. And if you take yours off first, and are brave enough to show yourself in every ugly way, they return the same in grace. 

The only thing I wear now is honesty. It's not always easy or pretty. Sometimes I make people uncomfortable, that poor starbucks employee who asked how my weekend was going, and didn't get the masked response. But for each of those moments, there is an opposite reaction. When I don't hold back the tears on the phone, and a stranger sends a comforting hug over air waves in the form of, "O honey, I lost a child too." The world is a more beautiful place when we all share our damaged souls.

*sidenote. Isn't it the most marvelous but mysterious thing, when you write from your heart, then look for a quote to add imagery to a blog post. And find something that is unbelievably what you were trying to say. I wrote this whole thing and then found the quote, I've never seen it, and it took awhile to find it, {shockingly not a lot of masked quotes on pinterest.} And there it was summed up in one sentence. Hello universe, you DO see me. Life is so wonderfully weird sometimes. 

with love, lissa

it wasnt supposed to be like this

I woke up to an email this morning. Reminding me that we were 3 days away from the blood drive. Seeing the number somehow changed it. I have been working on and planning this blood drive for so long, 5 weeks. That until today, its not really sunk in. 

On June 23 I would have been picking my mom up from the airport. So she could help me get the house in order before we brought a baby home. I would have been packing my hospital bag and putting that special outfit inside. I would have been making everything perfect, the last stages of nesting. I would have been going out for dinner with Brandon, talking about all the fears of the upcoming week. Adding a 3rd child to our family. Talking about the excitement of a girl. I remember all of these feelings from the days before Sawyer & Max. I was so ready to do them again. 

It wasn't supposed to be this way. 

I am supposed to be days away from a baby. My brain can't reverse that thought. The last weekend as a family of four, has turned into grieving as a family of 4 only. I can see my empty stomach in the mirror but my mind keeps thinking maybe it's all a mistake. That feeling of wondering what other parallel universes are out there, I am trapped in one. I want desperately to get back to reality. My reality where none of this happened. 

On my calendar in big black PERMANENT marker, "Baby Arrives 3pm!!" 

Instead, we will begin a blood drive and Brandon will be the first donor at exactly 3pm. I didn't think or plan it that way, and only noticed it this week. Poetic. And wrong. All of it is wrong. I did everything right. And it still turned out wrong. So vastly, unfairly, cosmically hugely WRONG. 

I would have been feeling so much emotion, joy, fear, anticipation, worry, love. I would have been expecting so much. 

I would have still been expecting. 

Now Im not. In every way. 

with love, lissa