It has been 12 weeks since we were graced with the stunning, sweet, little munchkin of a boy Patrick. I look in his big (so far dark blue) eyes and know he is destined for greatness. Yeah so what I'm biased. And as a typical mother of a kind of a newborn, I am racing through this blog with fervor and speed because he's been sleeping in his swing for atleast an hr and a 1/2. So I know he's going to wake up soon and not know what to do with himself unless it's time for him to eat. Which is still every 3 hours.
Amongst all the joy, all kisses on those sweet chubby cheeks. This time has been darkened a bit by the fact that I have postpartum depression and anxiety.
And am also dealing with the new knowledge that I am a BiPolar 2. I was OK with it when I was first told about it. Because I felt OK. Until the world came crashing down upon me 2 days after my 3rd child was born. When I look back at the prior births, I can see how I probably did have this. Yet somehow came out unscathed only using antidepressants. Which could have been dangerous except that somehow it was not severe. But this time around? Well it has turned my life completely upside down. It's been a struggle ever since. When you think about it, we all struggle don't we? We walk around complacent and blind to others feelings, ailments, faults. We somehow think we are better than others. We judge, and we think of how grateful we are to be normal. But we are all really not so normal. We are so far from perfect creatures. And everyone has a burden to bear.
Some people have MS. Some people have Cancer, or the gout. Yes I said Cancer because if you have/had cancer you are suffering. And struggling, so it counts. Some people have ADHD, or autism, or severe food allergies. Some have PMDD. The one thing we do know is well over half this country is depressed and/or suffering from some type of mood disorder. More than we could ever have imagined. And I chose to talk about it because it's what I do. I talk about everything. I have to. It's just my way. I could hide away and pretend like it doesn't exist. Or I can accept it and fight it and share it. In hopes that my fight can help others know that they are not alone. That this 'thing' will not keep hold of me and my life and my children's lives.
I am aggressively treating it with meds and therapy and am looking so forward to the day that I can say I am 100% again. If you have ever had Postpartum issues ranging from just the baby blues to all out severe depression and/or postpartum anxiety or even Hypo Mania which I have had to deal with, then you know what it's like. It's like a war between the chemistry and gene pool against who you know is the real you. And it's not fun. It's an all consuming bitch of a situation that can pretty much take over if you allow it.
My irony is that I come from a history of suffering and mental illness. So I've learned to fight. I am insightful, and knowledgeable and resourceful. I am a survivor. I also know how to ask for help. I may not like help, but I am over the guilt I once felt when I was a mother of an only child. I am intelligent enough to realize that I can't do this alone. And I am thanking my lucky stars for all the wonderful people I've been blessed to come across that have offered their whatever to help us along. Having kids isn't easy. But having a baby when you already have bigger kids is even harder. Then you add on the trials and tribs of what this is. And talk about a mountain of anxiety and worry. For my future, my kids future and everything in between.
I never imagined I'd have a 'mental illness'. I mean I always knew I was different. But as to how different, well certainly not in the characterization of needing anti psychotics and mood stabilizers. I've asked myself 'Why' many times. But it's chemistry, and genes as I've said and I think look what you came from. So why not? So here we are. And I am thankful and grateful that I am stable right now and have been told by multiple sources including messages from beyond that I will be OK and that I have a long life ahead of me. I have my days, my moments, my hours. But I am doing the best I can with what I have and praying that my meds work like they're supposed to.
With that, In the realm of our current medical world, we are severely lacking in research and trials in psychiatry, and these illnesses. But I Thank GOD that we are still within reach of the technology enough to treat the illnesses at home and not have to lose time with our families. I hope that one day I might not need as many meds, or even need anything at all. But the reality is I might. Am I scared? Hell Yes. I don't want to lose myself. I don't want to go a day without seeing my babies grow up and watch them and find out who they will become. I don't want to forget important things, or have to end up in a hospital. And I will fight to prevent those things. For as long and as hard as it is, I will fight. Because that's what I do. I'm a fighter. Always.
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