I think the psychiatrist used the words "major depression" but I'm not sure because I was too busy being anxious about the fact that I was in a psychiatrist's office about to get a prescription for medication and would that make me a bad Christian because shouldn't I just have more faith and did I really have to give up breastfeeding like she said or what if I just pumped for two weeks and then went off the anti-anxiety meds she suggested I use "as needed" beyond that point and then I could nurse again and what about my thyroid - low thyroid runs in the family and that can cause depression too and if I could just avoid medication long enough to fix that then maybe I could keep nursing because Elaine needs me and so does Val and what is wrong with me that I can't even take care of them without falling apart other people do this all the time and they don't have any problems so why should it be so difficult for me obviously I totally suck and I'm a worthless mother and wife and why anyone would even want to care about me is just silly I know Superman is just pretending to love me anyhow and I bet he secretly wishes he didn't have to deal with all this crap and how could I possibly do this to him and I seriously must be a horrible person to even marry him and then fall apart on him and make his life miserable and why did I even have kids it was so stupid of me to think I could love and support two completely dependent and beautiful girls and they're so lovely and deserve so much more and so much better than this.
I am depressed. And then I was anxious about it because of how it has/might/would/will effect my children. Much of the crazy intense anxiety has subsided mostly because we've been living at my parents house for the past three weeks. I was afraid to be alone. I couldn't sleep. At first they did pretty much all the child care. Then they did less of Val but still all of Elaine. Then I thought I could handle things again. Then I was very wrong. Elaine is still sleeping in my parents' room every night.
I'm still living the story, still trying to find the best treatment for me. Depression is a complicated thing. How I wish the cure was as straightforward as casting a broken arm. How I wish there were a formula to follow that guaranteed success. In the meantime thought you might enjoy (Hmm. Better word choice needed here? Most likely.) coming along for the ride. Also, writing about it will probably be good for me. I have yet to experience a time in my life where writing is BAD for me, so there.
I'm also choosing to write about my struggle in the hopes that it may encourage other people (especially mothers) out there who also struggle with this. Get help. It's OK. Many of us have been there before if we aren't there now. Lots of blogging moms have written about this and I have to say that Heather Armstrong is in my opinion one of the bravest women ever. I began to read her site soon after she gave birth to Leta and I am even more convinced she's a phenomenal lady, now that I've had (am having) a tiny taste of what she experienced.
So there you go. That's why I haven't been blogging as much or as usual. I'll be back with more but right now I'm going to bed.