Showing posts with label meds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meds. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

I'm sorry. #ForMiriam

An open letter to Miriam Carey. #forMiriam

Miriam,

Oh, how I wish I knew what you were experiencing. I wish I knew who failed you.

I feel like it might have been me.

No matter how hard I advocate. How hard I push. I see women like you whose lives end too soon. And it triggers me. It brings me back to the realization that it's not enough. It's never enough.

What were you going through?

Was it actually a postpartum mood disorder? Were you severely anxious? Did you realize what you were doing? Did you know your baby was in the car with you? Did you mean to risk your life? And your child's?

Where was your mind taking you?

We know it was your mind that led you to those gates. Those barricades. Your mind had you put that car into drive and go.

How far did you travel to get to where you were going?

What were you thinking along the way?

Were you thinking at all?

So many women. So many mommas. Their lives end too soon.

They appear okay. Seem to be getting help.

From people like me. I'm a therapist. I meed to be working. I need to be out there supporting women like you. I am not all the way out there yet, but I do my share as best I can.

I volunteer for organizations to support moms in need. Like Postpartum Education and Support, Moms Supporting Moms - a local organization that lets me show I'm there and flex my supportive muscles via email and phone. I write posts about postpartum mental health, posts about women like you, and I try to clarify. Try to explain that not every woman experiencing postpartum depression and/or anxiety wants to harm their child(ren).

I support moms at every point of motherhood in communities like Mama's Comfort Camp, created by Yael Saar to remind women everywhere that they are not ever alone.

I spread the word about communities like #PPDChat, created by Lauren Hale of My Postpartum Voice.

I talk about Postpartum International. I remind people that help is out there. I encourage people to get help, for themselves, their friends and loved ones.

I write posts about all of the amazing bloggers out there who are available to support, love and remind you you're not alone. These women who have been places that were similar to where you were and come back from the brink of it.

And still, it's not enough.

This is not about me. This should not be about me.

It's about you. And those like you.

But I want to shout anyway. I want to be HEARD. By those who failed you. Those who have failed so many others. I want to say COME ON, ALREADY!!!

How many women have to suffer before we figure this out? How many women have to leave their children motherless? Leave their families without a daughter, a sister, a wife? How many?

We don't know. We can't know.

And honestly, I have no idea if any of this even applies to you. Perhaps I'm being too stereotypical and jumping on the bandwagon that says you must have had some sort of postpartum mood disorder to do what you did. Maybe the small words from your mom or your boyfriend or your former boss or whomever said them led me and many down this path we shouldn't be taking, but I'm going to stand on the path, lace up my sneakers and RUN LIKE HELL. Shouting the whole way through.

Let's help these women. These moms. They need us. They need the support and love and people to trust. When they go for psychiatric care, therapy, help - we need to be there. Clinicians and physicians, OB-gyns, pediatricians, psychiatrists, I don't care who you are - what professional label you wear. If you know that a woman has just had a baby it's your responsibility to ask if she is okay. It's your JOB, your oath, your whatever the hell you want to call it - but do NOT let these women slip through the cracks. Please. I appeal to you, those out there, and beg of you - check in with your patients. Your clients. Make sure they are okay. And if they're not? Get them the help they need. If you are not capable of doing it, find them someone who can. Please. I implore you.

Please.

Do it.

Do it for them. For yourself. For the children. The loved ones.

Do it for Miriam.

And Miriam ... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that your life had to end the way it did. There are so many if only-s. If only you hadn't turned the car around. Led the police to take chase. If only you hadn't driven there to begin with. If only.

If only you knew there was someone out there like me. Waiting to open my arms to you and hug you. So many someones who know what you were going through. And who got through to the other side.

If only.


Friday, September 6, 2013

"Thank you, Grilled Cheese-us!"

If you know what that means? We're meant to be friends.

It has been a HELLACIOUS week + around here, people. Seriously.

I know you think I've neglected you, and I have. And I'm sorry.

But good LAWD. I've got the cough from hell. Seriously. It's been over a week and I'm exhausted and cranky and tired and can't.stop.coughing.

ENOUGH ALREADY.

For realz.

I even went to Urgent Care last Friday night. LAST FRIDAY. And the doctor was, well, nice and sweet. And possibly twelve. But still.

And I forgave her for not giving me an antibiotic. I trusted her. *Except when she almost gave me a cough medicine with codeine and I am allergic to hydrocodone, but I digress ...

I took my inhaler prescription - and if someone can tell me how you're supposed to use those things that'd be awesome - really - and left.

And me and my OTC cough medicine from crap-land spent night after night dying. DYING.

Coughing and waking up and coughing and waking up and crying and peeing and peeing and coughing and peeing and sweating and fever-breaking and ice cold and shivering and coughing and have I mentioned coughing yet? Whew.

I'm tired just trying to breathe as I read all of that.

So I called them at the Urgent Care yesterday, desperate, and they called in a cough med. And while last night was also hellacious, I seem to have improved some already. Which reminds me, it's after midnight and I didn't take my 3rd dose today. Hmmn. To take - or not to take ...?

Anyway, I'm beat. Fried. Achey breaky and all that jazz. (Oh, Billy Ray, I'm so sorry.) *smh*

I'm ready to be healthy again because the child started school last week and I had, oh, exactly two days (that's right, count 'em, TWO. ONE. TWO.) before I was too sick to workout and I was so not happy about that one bit.

I have religiously been using My Fitness Pal and working out was supposed to go hand in hand with that, ya know? Okay, fine, I've been working hard at eating better and drinking 900 gallons of water a day (fine, it just FEELS like it), so the workouts were supposed to go with all of that. Pooh. They didn't. Haven't. I can't imagine when I'll be able to finish the 2-1/2 minute walk to the bus stop each afternoon without breaking into a sweat (HELLO HUMIDITY. #wherethehellisfall?) and coughing fit once I stop moving.

But soon.

I hope.

Because if not?

I'm seriously going to dedicate my life to eating Grilled Chees-us-es for every meal.

Every.Single.One.

That'll be okay if it's whole wheat bread, right? And unsalted butter?

* I see you shaking your head over there. No? Well why the heck not? *

Oooh, Challah bread. I am hoping to make some tomorrow for yontif. If I finally feel well enough. I really need some sweet as we bring in this new year. A happy and a healthy will happen, but goodness I need to feel healthy first!

Back to basics for a sec. Bread. Sandwiches. Leads me to ... self-promotion. Sorta' kinda'. Is Pinterest really self-promotion if you have like none of your own posts pinned?

But anyway ... have you seen my Sandwich Heaven Pinterest Board yet? Some of those beautiful Grilled Cheese-us-es? WOULD ROCK. Dangit, lookit at what I did to myself right there. Now I'm hungry.

This is why I need to go to bed earlier. So I can hush up AND stop eating.

Nite, y'all!


Monday, February 14, 2011

Anxiety is a b!tch ...

Photo obtained from Photbucket.com

Right now my daughter is walking around the living room, batting about the balloons my husband picked up for her the morning of her fourth birthday. The sound of the Mylar is causing me to stop and take some deep breaths before I lose it.

Breathe in ...

Today is the first day in a while that it's just been the two of us for the day. My parents came in on Wednesday, and left Sunday morning. My in-laws arrived on Friday, and left this morning. Hubby was home since Thursday, and is back to work today.


Breathe out ...

And so I'm trying to make sure I have stuff for us to do. She's already opened two of her birthday presents today. And I bought two new Valentine's books to give her later. And we have a playdate to walk over to this afternoon. Which should be fun.

Breathe in ...

I miss my parents already.

Breathe out ...

Needless to say, the slightest of sounds is setting me off.
My massage chair thing-y is actually hurting my eyes a little bit.
*Which is so not cool, since it is supposed to be doing is HELPING me relax, ya know?*

Breathe out ...

It probably doesn't help that I have recently switched my medication. I was on one medication since the end of my pregnancy, and my doctor recently discussed whether or not I felt like it was working. And I did. For the most part.


Breathe in ...

See, my PPA (postpartum anxiety) is totally heightened as my child gets older. It's likely a combination of this and my generalized anxiety (which I am pretty sure I had pre-motherhood) that impact me in the way that sets me off in such a mode that I cannot focus and don't know which way to turn.


Breathe in ...

So, like just now, I sometimes turn to Disney Junior (or whatever the DisneyChannel is called these days!) and The Imagination Movers to help me out.
*This episode is just a teeny tiny bit annoying - but aren't they all?*

Breathe in ...

Because even the sound of the huge container of colorful goldfish is rubbing me the wrong way.
*I really should get her a small bowl for those.*

Breathe out ...

So when my doctor and I spoke a bit, and my daughter was there at the appointment with me ... I think it was pretty obvious that my anxiety was ruling me a bit more than I was ruling it.

Breathe in ...

So we switched things up a bit. And the last week or two were a bit hellish, but I think I'm getting back on track now. Which is good. Very. VERY. Very good.

Breathe out ...

But I must confess that sometimes even when I stop and take that moment to breathe, I can't always catch myself and set up a buffer before I tend to snap or shout for some unknown or established reason.

Breathe out ...

But I continue to try, and that, that is the most important thing of all.

Breathe in ...

Because although some days will be rougher and tougher than others, and other days will be completely intense and heavy and I won't want to get out of bed ... I always will. Because I have a little girl to be there for. And a life to live. And so much more to think of than just the things that sometimes make me cringe.


And breathe out.

*And a half hour later I'm finally finished writing this post! And, bonus of all bonuses, Toy Story is on now! Woo hoo!*

Friday, May 14, 2010

On a Serious Note: Talking postpartum anxiety

I mentioned yesterday that I take what I refer to as Happy Pills. I'm going to take some time today to talk more about that, and in this same post, talk about an incredible book that I recently finished reading.

The book is called, Inconsolable: How I Threw My Mental Health Out with the Diapers, by Marrit Ingman.

This book was incredible. Marrit (and I feel like I can call her that after reading this) pours her heart and soul into telling us about her early and later days of parenting. She TRULY talks about Postpartum Depression [PPD] and how she felt dealing with a stressful child.

You see, not everyone is blessed with an easy-going baby. I speak from experience here, folks. The young and beautiful child I show to you in various pictures was not quite so adorable as an infant. She cried ALL.THE.TIME. She had reflux. She nursed A LOT. She barely wanted anything but me and my boobs. She wouldn't take a bottle. She had to be swaddled and fall asleep with a hair dryer running. If you moved her she woke up. And many more fun things.

Yes, I am sure many of you are saying, I know that child. I HAD that child. Heck, maybe you even WERE that child. Apparently I was. Great - right? Karma's a bitch and all that. Well, add a touch of PPD, or PPA [anxiety], as I like to call my own experience, and all that shit hits you like ten tons of bricks, instead of the usual single ton.

Now, for me, my anxiety started towards the end of my pregnancy. Or maybe even earlier. All I know is that I was NOT sleeping. My mind was racing and I could not turn it off. I spoke to my OB, and she suggested I safely start up my Sarafem. Sarafem is something I had been taking monthly to deal with what is normally called PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder) before I got pregnant. I took it for two weeks out of the month, to coordinate with my cycle and {woah!}MAN did it help! It's like a teeny, tiny dose of Prozac, and seriously alleviated any mood swings, etc. that I experienced monthly. And my husband loved it.

It was considered safe for me to take this while pregnant, so I started it and took it until my next appointment. When the OB asked me if I would be breastfeeding. (Huh?) Or if I'd be trying to. Or planning to. Or whatever it is they ask you when you're a mommy-to-be and have so little clue what is in store for you. I said I'd be trying, and so she switched me to Zoloft. The switch was because Zoloft is considered a safe drug for nursing mamas. I was sleeping again. I mean really sleeping. That, in and of itself, was a huge bonus. Aside from getting up to pee every few minutes, I was doing well.

Enter - stage left - Baby girl. Stay tuned, folks. It gets even more interesting!


* Quick affiliate link in this post. If you buy this book through my link Amazon gives me a few pennies! * 

Friday, January 29, 2010

Anyone else ..?

Ever feel the urge to pick up a bottle of wine and throw it against the wall so it shatters?

No? So it's just me, then?


Well, of course I'd prefer it be an empty bottle, but I mean some fresh, shattering glass to get out your frustrations? Like when your child refuses to go to bed, AGAIN. And gets up crazy early, AGAIN. And is a really good girl all day, but at night is quite the opposite. And forces you to say something totally ridiculous like, 'If you don't go to bed RIGHT NOW you will not be allowed to play outside in the snow tomorrow!' (Yes, it's snowing here in NC. It's a Christmas miracle! Not really, but you get me -- right?)


Sigh. Seriously. That kind of night. So instead of throwing my bottle of vino, I'm about to crack it open. And if you've never heard of this brand before, I suggest you look into it [though their website leaves a little to be desired, but hey, it's good wine.] It's quite ah-proh-poh. (heh heh,
sure, that's how you spell it!)


And since my loving husband neglected to pick up something sweet for me as he stopped at Walmart on the way home (Love you, hunny. Good thing you don't read this!) I got to dive into the baker's chocolate again tonight. Fun stuff. Hard as a rock, might break a tooth on it, but I want chocolate, d@mnnit. And if I don't get some I might have to double up on my happy pills. And I'm not sure that's a good idea. Or maybe it is ... sweet dreams, all!

Sunday, July 12, 2009

No post today ...

A really bad allergy day for me today. I'm exhausted and headed to bed, and not able to make much of a coherent sentence tonight. I did switch up my meds this evening and am now taking generic Zyrtec instead of generic Claritin, so let's see if that helps.

I'm so tired that I can't even stay awake to watch Harold and Kumar's sequel to their White Castle movie. Hubby's watching, but I can only stay focused when Neil Patrick Harris is on. I love that man!


Anyway, good night, sweet dreams, and see you tomorrow for Muffin Tin Monday!

Friday, April 17, 2009

Day 1 ...

It's the first day of the medication that is supposed to help me breathe again (breathe again ...) I'm not puffy, mean or super hungry yet, but MAN, I'm tired.

Oh wait, I'm the mother of a two-year-old, I'm usually tired! ;)

Let's see what tomorrow brings ...