PMDD

You know how sometimes life is a little hard? Like when you're pregnant and everything is uncomfortable and tiring and sometimes painful? Well then you have the baby and you think "All is well in the world!" and you just love on that little snugly thing all day and night. Sometimes that's all there is to it. Simply you get to enjoy your new addition (maybe with a little less sleep, but still) and life goes on. Sometimes there are things that make it a little harder though. Sometimes the baby has colic and it kills you that you can't make them feel better, sometimes your baby is born small or sick and you spend days, weeks or months in the NICU just waiting for the day that you can take them home all while praying for the best, sometimes you get postpartum depression that makes it difficult (in some cases dang near impossible) to function normally, much less take care of a new baby.

While I've been lucky and haven't had to deal with any of those, (I've watched friends and family go through it and it is HARD!) I have recently found my own "post-baby" struggle, although it's not necessarily linked to postpartum ailments, I was just lucky I guess(?). About 3 months after having Blake, my body decided to start up the old machinery again. Lovely, right? Anyway, I noticed that I was experiencing a lot more anxiety, irritability, depression, anger, fatigue, headaches, difficulty concentrating, clumsy, jittery, extreme sensitivity, tension, severe cramping and overall had a feeling of coming undone at the seams. I actually thought I might be pregnant again for a minute there, but all was good. Although, since it was the same time we were packing up to leave Utah and head back home to Arizona, I dismissed it as "Packing/Traveling Stress". I'm pretty sure ever member of our family in Utah was happy to see me go, because I was one cranky, angry, crazy little cuss for the last week that we were there, and especially the last day. Even after we got home I was feeling like a crazy person, almost like when I have anxiety attacks, only different somehow. It's hard to explain, like trying to explain how sugar cookies and snicker doodles both smell sweet when they're baking, but smell different. Okay, weird analogy. Moving on.

Anyway, a few weeks later I started behaving terribly. I was just so extremely irritable over every little thing, and things that I should NOT have been irritable about. I would start yelling at Sophie for things that I should not have yelled at her for (like she would tell me the same story twice in a row or tug on my sleeve too many times, that kind of ridiculousness). Then I started crying all the time and feeling extremely depressed to the point that I wouldn't even talk to Jon about it. Of course I was also furious at Jon for some unknown reason (no, this is not a cover up, I would just see him and be mad and snap at him) so I didn't want to talk to him like I normally do. I got all of the other symptoms as well, so I guessed that I was getting ready to start my period again (ew, I said period) and would apologize to Jon saying that was the reason. 2 weeks went by like this. I was feeling positively murderous over silly things and just wanted to hide in a corner all the time. I was angry that Sophie would ask me for help, and while I never stopped making sure she was fed and bathed and taken care of, I just didn't feel like I was taking care of her at all. For some reason I was fine with Blake, but poor Sophie just got yelled at until I would give up and let her do whatever she wanted while I ignored her. That is not an easy thing to admit. And the worst part was that when I would yell or snap and Sophia or Jon, I would actually be thinking "I'm overreacting and I need to stop yelling and calm down" but I couldn't. No matter what I did I felt like I had absolutely no control over my reactions. It was horrible.

After that second time of going through it, I was sure that I had postpartum depression, and was trying to get the guts to call my doctor and ask for help. Between the yelling and the crying I figured that there was no other excuse, and while postpartum depression is nothing to be ashamed about, I felt like I was failing somehow by admitting it (which is dumb.) Then an amazing thing happened - my period finally came and went, and I was happy again. No more crippling cramps, no more horrible headaches and extreme fatigue, and best of all, no more crazy mood swings. I was happy, functioning normally, able to think straight and act accordingly. In fact, for a couple of days I was actually in a state of euphoria, where everything was simply beautiful and wonderful to the point that I felt like my heart would burst from happiness.

Soon after this, I was talking to a new friend over lunch and saying how I had felt like I was losing my mind and didn't know what had been wrong with me. She explained that she had been going through the same thing and that she was diagnosed with PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder). She explained her experience and it was very similar to mine, so I looked it up online, read about the symptoms, even took the little online quiz to see if you may have it (98% chance, it said). Since I already had an appointment with my OB I decided to talk to her about it at my next appointment. Lucky me, the symptoms started again the day of my appointment, so it was nice and fresh in my mind. She agreed that this sounded like PMDD and not something simply psychological and not postpartum depression. She talked to me for a while, made me feel like I wasn't a horrible person, and gave me a prescription. Unfortunately it took 2-3 weeks for the prescription to take full effect, so I just had to wait and try not to scream at everyone, try to stay happy despite what my body wanted to make my mind think, and try to cope with day to day until my 2 week "break" where I'm normal and functioning again.

Luckily, I survived that. It was rough, and there was a lot of tension in the house, but we all survived until my happy phase. Although, like a dark rain cloud that just won't go away, I was actually living in fear of the next bad phase. I knew that the medication would kick in by then, but just the thought that "maybe it won't work" gave me nightmares. I hated the person I became during those 2 weeks. The massive depression would just hold on to me and I couldn't shake it. Luckily for me though, when the bad phase came, I was still happy. I could tell exactly the day it started, like before, but it didn't control me. It was as if the cloud had stopped right over my head, blocking out the sun a little, but it didn't rain and I could see that the sun was still shining in other places. During that phase I had about 3 or 4 bad days, so at my 6 week follow-up we upped my medication to the next dosage amount.

The next few weeks I didn't live in fear as I had before, which was fantastic! In fact one day, after we had some family visit over the weekend, I was thinking about how close Christmas was and realized that normally I would have started the bad phase at this point - but I hadn't felt any different at all! I was so happy I went and told Jon and just thanked the Lord that my medication was working so I could feel like a good wife and mother again. A couple of days later, however, I had a bad day. It didn't start out bad, necessarily, but it quickly progressed to the point that I had to call a friend of mine to take the kids for a bit because I was just feeling like I couldn't get anything accomplished and I was just so SAD and angry! By the time I was done shopping at 2 stores and had called my mom to complain about how the medication wasn't working and what if it never worked again, etc, I had finally calmed down and was able to go get my kids and, even though I was still feeling severely depressed, I was able to snuggle them and was happy to see them.

I didn't sleep well that night - I was so worried that I would have another bad day and I just felt so horrible about yelling at my kids so much over things that don't deserve yelling. However when I woke up the next day I felt fine. In fact, as I went throughout the day, I found myself whistling, happy, energized, smiling, laughing - all normal things. I didn't feel depressed, and when I would think about the things that had upset me the day before I thought "Why on earth did that bother me?" In fact I believe I went the entire day without yelling once, even though Sophia was actually being a little naughty this time! She peed on the floor - I just had a talk with her and we cleaned it up. No lecture, no throwing towels angrily into the hamper, no silent treatment for her while I tried to simmer down. Just a calm talk and a clean up. It was wonderful. I felt like myself, and I regained my faith in the knowledge that for 1) my medication IS working and I have to trust that it will continue to work, even if I have a bad day and 2) that Heavenly Father is looking out for me. He knows just when to have people near me to help me out, he knows just how to comfort me, and he knows how to help me get through my little "episodes". Today was my happy day - and I trust that during the next week and a half or so, most of those days will continue to be happy ones as well. I know my family loves me, I know I love them, I know that I'm not failing as a mother. PMDD is not fun. It's also hard not having people to really talk to about it. It's not as bad as full blown depression or post partum depression, because I have a "break" where I can be happy, so I feel like complaining to someone with one of those symptoms will just make me seem insensitive. And it's hard to talk to people who don't have any depression, because I always feel like they just think I'm blowing it out of proportion or week or...whatever. I don't think they can really know. So I'm stuck in this middle ground where I just turn to my husband, prayer, my journal, and my blog to whine and complain and get everything out there so I don't feel like I'm holding it all in.

Anyway, that's enough for now. Now I get to go to sleep and (hopefully!) have another happy day with my family tomorrow. :)