postpartum anxiety

Stay Afloat. Get. To. Shore.
BabiesParenthoodPopular PostsPostpartum Anxiety & Depression

Stay Afloat. Get. To. Shore.

by Jill
written by Jill

You know how I know that postpartum anxiety is very REAL for me? Because when I’m not drowning in it, I look at my previous self from the shore and I think…

“Holy shit. That is WAY deeper than you realize! OMG. Do you not see that shark behind you? You have no idea there are weights on your ankles right now, do you? Oh, Jill, you have to get those weights off and you have to get to shore. It’s so much easier here to not drown.”

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I can sail through days now, not only mostly happy, not only keeping my kids alive and myself relatively sane, but also accomplishing things like dishes AND laundry ON THE SAME DAY. And even taking all three of them somewhere by myself.

At the deepest points, I would feel lazy and paralyzed. There was NO way I could manage to get dressed AND feed the kids at least 2 meals and snacks AND pick up messes AND deal with tantrums and meltdowns.

I mean, there I was, trying not to DROWN with weights on my ankles, and guilting myself over dirty sippy cups in the sink… and on the couch… and probably in my car.

But when people are close to drowning nobody expects them to do anything but get help, stay afloat, get. to. shore.

I’m only on the edge where the ocean meets the sand now. Most days I’m really afraid a rip tide will hit me out of nowhere and drag me back.

Today, though, I’m not in the water. I’m enjoying the sun, I’m accomplishing tasks, I’m relaxing on the beach and not gasping for air in the deep sea. And I hope that each day I move a little further away from the waves. Here I have time to breathe, space to stretch, and energy to spare.

Don’t ever feel guilty or lazy or like a bad person when you are drowning and gasping for air, with weights on your ankles, and you can’t do that while keeping your house clean and making your kids organic, homemade meals.

Get help. Stay afloat. Get. to. shore.

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This Rope Woven From Hope Is For You, Momma
BabiesCloth DiapersParenthoodPhotographyPostpartum Anxiety & DepressionPregnancySchool Age DaysToddlersVideos

This Rope Woven From Hope Is For You, Momma

by Jill
written by Jill

The lowest, rock-bottom point in my postpartum anxiety battle was a quiet afternoon, as I rocked my then 9 month old daughter in her dark room, hot tears streaming down my face. I looked at her, and apologized over and over. I said to myself, “If you don’t get help, you will be the mom on the news.” 

1 hour later, I was in my car, driving to fill my prescription for Zoloft- something I didn’t want to admit until that very moment that I needed to get better.

Last weekend I was part of a revolutionary movement. I sat in a room at the first ever Warrior Mom Conference with over 100 other women, and we talked about our battles with perinatal mood and anxiety disorders (postpartum/antepartum depression, anxiety, ocd, psychosis). We shared moments of tears, joy, and victory.

And then? We talked A LOT about helping moms who haven’t been helped, who need it the most, who need that one person to come into their life and let them know that they are not a BAD mom. They are a mom who is dealing with an illness, and that that illness CAN get better.

Katherine Stone, founder of the nonprofit Postpartum Progress that put on the conference, made a powerful analogy in her keynote speech. 1 in 7 moms (at least!) will deal with perinatal mood and anxiety disorders, falling over a cliff at the edge of motherhood, into a dark hole. It is so important that some, many of us who make it out of that hole, come back around, and throw ropes down to the women who are still in it.

And so, this project I’m about to share with you, this is just one of my ropes.

I’ve spent the last 3 months working with the Warrior Mom Conference national sponsor Cotton Babies to create this short video with the hopes that as many moms, and people who love and support moms see it. I want them to see this rope that is woven from threads of hope and messages of victory and solidarity.

7 women in 3 cities opened their hearts and homes to me. They sat before my camera, raw and beautifully vulnerable, throwing out their own ropes.

Watch, listen, share. Grab hold of that rope, momma. We are here for you. You are a GOOD mother. You CAN get better.

Thank you to Cotton Babies and to these gloriously strong women for making this video possible.

~Raivon~

~Maggie~

~Laura~

~Rochelle~

~Marjorie~

~Erin~

~Dianthe~

If you or someone you love can identify with the struggles these women talked about in the video, and you need a place to start, head over to PostpartumProgress.org. I found their “Tools” to be incredibly eye opening and helpful.

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We’ve Still Got A Lot Of Fight Left- For My Fellow Warrior Moms
BabiesBloggingParenthoodPostpartum Anxiety & DepressionPregnancyVideos

We’ve Still Got A Lot Of Fight Left- For My Fellow Warrior Moms

by Jill
written by Jill

It’s June. It’s almost halfway through June! And I feel terrible that I’m just now writing about this, organizing, this, ASKING YOUR HELP for this.

See, I was going to get together a giveaway of some kind, where anyone who donates money to help me support Postpartum Progress– the organization that has helped me, changed me, saved me as I’ve struggled with postpartum anxiety and OCD- would be entered to win cool prizes.

But part of my self-care plan has been saying NO to a lot of things, and stepping away when I feel overwhelmed. So I am stepping away from the idea that I’m finally going to pull off that big, grand giveaway. The one I was sure would help me raise over $500 for Postpartum Progress’ Climb Out Of The Darkness campaign by June 20th. 

I’m simply asking you- YOU- and you, and any of you, all of you? Whoever of you can spare $5 or $25 or more. I’m asking you to just simply donate to my fundraising efforts.

Not because I have jazzy strollers to giveaway or fancy handbags, but because this means SO much to me.

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My postpartum anxiety peaked after I had my 2nd baby- Leyna. Here we are, in the thick of it. A picture I haven’t looked at in years. I remember thinking the answer to everything was to never leave the house again. I truly thought that was an actual solution.

It not only means the world to me because of what I’ve been through (read more here, here, here, here) but because I KNOW so many of you are, have, or will go through it, too.

1 in 7 pregnant & new moms will have a perinatal mood or anxiety disorder.

One in SEVEN, y’all.

I want Postpartum Progress to continue to be the go-to resource for women who are struggling, who are up at 2 am, googling things like “I can’t stop these visions of my child dying,” or “I’m so angry and I don’t know why,” or “Why am I a terrible mother?”

I want their New Mom Checklist to be accessible far and wide, I want their Plain Mama English Symptoms of Postpartum Depression & Anxiety to get seen by as many moms and dads and caregivers as possible. And I want them to continue to grow, to help parents in ways they so desperately want to, but need funds to do so.

My wish is that you’ll crank up your speakers and watch this video. These are women, families, CHILDREN who have already been helped by this immensely valuable organization.

I want you to share it with anyone and everyone. Not so people will donate (though, of course, it would be lovely if they did) but so anyone out there who is in the trenches of postpartum depression, anxiety, ocd or psychosis will have the chance to see that there is a way through this, to hear that we believe in them and in the fight that is left in them. 

And, momma? If that warrior is you? You got this. You do. There is an entire community out here willing and ready to support you and cheer you on.

Of course, I would also love if you’d support my fundraising efforts. You can visit my Crowdrise page here. Thank you a million times for donating, sharing, and supporting however you can. Even if there’s no chance of winning a fancy prize this time.

 

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My Newfound Ability To Start
Parenthood

My Newfound Ability To Start

by Jill
written by Jill

There have been plenty of days when I’ve fantasized of a time that I could write a blog post telling you all how I finally felt like a responsible, capable adult- the kind who regularly cleans house, wakes early, cooks dinner, and doesn’t feel like she could burst into tears or have a panic attack at the thought of everything on her to-do list.

And that I’d be able to tell you how you can become that person, too (if you’re not already).

I’m not saying today is that day, or this post is that post, but let me describe this to you:

I woke up at 6:55 this morning to get Kendall to school. The house was a mess. Like a gross mess with nasty dishes and food all over the kitchen. The lunches weren’t made. I got a little less than 6 hours of sleep last night. And I am majorly behind on some big work projects thanks to Scott’s travel schedule and sick kids last weekend.

Me one year ago would have been in a sour mood this morning, snapping at Kendall to hurry, hurry, hurry while I threw together his lunch. I would have come home and had a pot of coffee before taking the other two to preschool. And then I would have walked in the door, took one look at the mess, thought for 30 seconds about my inbox and what I’m behind on, and I would have just… froze. I likely would have just taken a nap and called the day a loss, knowing I’d be too exhausted to focus on anything anyway.

The nap wouldn’t have helped things, as I’d feel even more guilty and overwhelmed when I woke to get the kids from school, knowing I wasted an entire work day. My sour mood would continue, and I’d do what I could to avoid both the mess in the kitchen, and the mess in my inbox.

Instead, this is what me TODAY did:

I pushed the mess aside, made lunches, and sent Kendall off with a smile. I had to hurry him a bit, as is usual, but it didn’t feel like a tortuous task. I drank coffee because some things can’t ever change. Then after taking the other two to preschool I came home and I just started moving. One thing at a time. I picked up, made beds, did the dishes, wiped the counters, ran some laundry.

I thought about my workload as I was cleaning, but I knew I work best in non-cluttered, non-smelly spaces. The blog post could wait until lunch, the emails can wait until after that. The project will get done. It will.

See, the me-this-year can actually understand that just because you can’t get everything done RIGHT NOW, doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. The me-this-year understands that the best way to accomplish things, is to just start. Most days I don’t have much of a plan, but the days that I’m the most productive, I literally just MAKE myself do SOMETHING.

I tell myself, “just start picking up. Do it for 15 minutes.” And soon, it’s been 1.5 hours and the house is pretty damn clean because I just kept going.

I tell myself, “just answer 4 emails. Do it for 15 minutes.” And soon, I’m putting together pitches and brainstorming ideas because I just kept going.

The me this year has the ability to START.

A photo posted by Jill Krause (@babyrabies) on

Seriously, I am forever grateful that I am at this point now when this time last year I felt so, so, so overwhelmed and stuck… and just unable to get started.

I don’t know what exactly has helped. I have to think it’s a combination of a lot of things.

For starters, this time last year was when I recognized that I needed to talk to my midwife about the reappearance of postpartum anxiety, and I’ve been on meds for about a year. I think that has been HUGE.

It’s very possible that the Whole 30 has helped, too. I credit it with energy during the day like I haven’t experienced in a long time.

Beyond that, though, starting last spring, I really began to make myself and my peace of mind a priority. Nearly all the money I made blogging went right back into stuff to make my life less hectic.

I paid for and delegated things that were weighing me down, but needed to get done. (New blog design, media kit, etc.) I even brought on a super talented assistant for a while to help me dig out of the mountain of emails.

We also hired a nanny for a short time, until we could get Lowell in Mothers Day Out, and then had a housekeeper come regularly.

So I wasn’t profiting much at all in the last year in terms of money, but I was profiting big-time in terms of sanity, and laying the groundwork for growth.

Let me pause and say that I recognize what a tremendous privilege that is– to be able to have the means to take care of myself and my family like that. I know it’s not something everyone can do, and that is why this is not that post I dreamed about– the one where I tell you all how I did it, and how you can do it, too.

The truth is, I don’t know exactly how you can feel like me-today if right now you feel like me-last-year. I’m not going to tell you the only path to happiness is to hire a housekeeper (which, BTW, we haven’t used since moving into the new house because we actually feel more motivated- for now- to keep this place clean ourselves).

Here’s what I do know, though:

Understand that it takes time. Don’t tell yourself you must get everything done/cleaned/organized/answered over a weekend. You’ll just end up feeling like a failure all over again.

Make yourself a priority. Don’t give up time at the gym or doing fun activities because you tell yourself you need to spend that time doing tasks that overwhelm you. Take care of yourself first- and this goes for ALL of you, from your mind to what you eat (can not recommend the Whole 30 enough). Seriously, be GOOD to yourself.

Ask for help. This could mean asking a friend to come over and help your de-clutter. It could mean asking your partner to wake up with the baby more so you’re getting more sleep. It could mean asking for recommendations for a therapist. Don’t take this on on your own.

Start. It will be tough, but tell yourself to just start. Do SOMETHING. Something small. And don’t be mad if all you can do is that small thing. All the small things will add up.

I am not saying that I’m the responsible grownup who isn’t flakey, who stays on top of dishes, and doesn’t get overwhelmed anymore. That’s still who I am, and will likely always be.

I AM saying that, mostly- at this point, I’m the kind of person who understands that a bad day can be left in the past, and it’s okay to only use 50% of the pages in my planner, and that none of that should keep me from being able to wake up tomorrow, make a to-do list, get half of it done, and call that a success.

I have the ability to start.

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Am I Psychic? On Wanting To Predict The New Year (And Anxiety, Of Course)
BabiesParenthood

Am I Psychic? On Wanting To Predict The New Year (And Anxiety, Of Course)

by Jill
written by Jill

In the fall of 2013, when Lowell was 8 weeks old, I had a moment that made me wonder if I’m actually some kind of psychic.

I’m only half joking. Actually, I’m mostly serious.

We were driving home from his 8 week appointment, just the two of us, on a two lane road that I liked to take to avoid the busy highways between our home and the pediatrician’s office. Over the years, this road has become increasingly busy as construction booms around it.

As I approached a curve in the road to the left and a pile of large debris on the shoulder to my right, I had a very clear thought- It would be so easy for someone to hit me head-on on this road.

And then, literally seconds later, the car approaching me veered into my lane. And because I had just had this thought, and I was focusing so intently on the cars ahead of me, I had just enough time to veer to the right barely enough without swerving into the pile of construction debris while laying on my horn.

The driver of the car looked up from their phone in time to veer back into their lane before hitting me.

I haven’t taken that road since.

On New Years Eve last year, Leyna broke her arm, and I spent most of New Years Day trying to figure out if I could blame that bad luck on 2013, or if it was a sign that 2014 was going to be a year that broke me.

I let my maybe-psychic mind convince me that, like the car approaching me, 2014 was going to be something I had to keep intently focused on. A year I would probably have to honk my horn at, and maybe flip the bird, and hope it doesn’t hit me head-on.

Not surprisingly, 2014 was a year that I struggled with postpartum anxiety again. I was back on my meds by March after a few months white-knuckling and trying to soothe my racing, maybe-psychic mind on my own.

Truthfully, I spent all of 2014 trying not to listen to a small voice saying, “This year is going to break you. It’s going to be awful.” So much so that I didn’t even want to publish this post that’s been brewing in my head until 2014 was gone.

God forbid I published it on the 31st, and then our house burned down that night or something.

Seriously, this is how my brain works.

But now, safely in the arms of 2015, I can say that while 2014 did threaten to flatten me at times, I managed to navigate it like a pro, narrowly squeezing between anxiety on my left, and overwhelming pressure of motherhood and work and buying a new home on  my right, while I cruised through some pretty great moments.

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I still wonder, though, how much I can trust my own instincts. It’s clear that they are very on-point sometimes. And at others, it’s clear that they like to make me crazy for no good reason. Anxiety is a bitch like that. It makes my intuition drunk… or maybe high? I’ve never been high, but I hear that you become paranoid. So perhaps that’s a better analogy.

I hate looking at the whole of things ahead of me. I hate trying to predict what an entire year will bring. I will just stay intently focused on what’s immediately here. Living in the now, day to day, is one of the best ways I know to sober my instincts.

I’m glad I was very wrong to believe 2014 was going to be awful. It was the opposite.

(And you should know that my brain is telling me to delete that last sentence because now I have certainly set myself up for a horrific 2015. This is when I truly hope I’m not psychic and just have issues.)

 

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I Want To Be Strong- On Body Image After Anxiety
BabiesParenthoodPopular Posts

I Want To Be Strong- On Body Image After Anxiety

by Jill
written by Jill

I remember the day I stepped on the doctor’s scale and weighed in at 139 nearly 3 years ago. I was there for a follow-up appointment, to get a renewed prescription for meds to treat my postpartum anxiety.

It had been a month since I begged them to work me in as quick as possible because I thought I was surely dying… of cancer, of a heart attack, of something. A month since I admitted to myself and a medical professional that I was dealing with some serious intrusive and obsessive thoughts nearly  9 months after having my 2nd baby.

One. Thirty. Nine. I hadn’t seen that number on a scale since high school. My first thought, which I said out loud, was, “do you think something is wrong with my thyroid? I mean. Wow. That’s… I haven’t even been working out.”

So, and I am sure this was mainly to appease me and ease my overactive concern, they ran some tests. Nope. Nothing wrong with my thyroid.

I was just, well, I was the thinnest I’d been in a long time, size 6 skinny jeans sagging off my non-existent butt, because I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating. Not enough, I guess. I was living off of coffee. I wasn’t purposefully starving myself. I wasn’t aiming to lose weight that way. I had NO appetite.

It was all a part of the illness I was clawing my way away from. I was the thinnest I’d been in my adult life at a time when my life was the most scary it’s ever been.

I know this.

So it really makes me pissed at myself when I step on a scale these days, weighing a good 10-15 lbs more than that, and hear my inner dialogue tell me, “Remember when you were 139? Why can’t you be that skinny again?”

Hey, me? Shut the fuck up.

Because I knew the signs of postpartum anxiety this time, I caught on much earlier that I was back in that place again after having my 3rd baby a year ago. I started meds for it when he was 6 months old. I didn’t let myself get to that place where I’m living on the edge of a cliff. THANK GOD.

So the meds are working, and I am hungry, and I am enjoying life, and I’m sleeping.

The weight isn’t just falling off of me this time. Rationally, I know this is a GREAT thing. I’m not standing in front of a mirror, looking at my hollowed out cheeks, not able to recognize myself.

There is a pudgy tummy, and my butt is much bigger. My arms are  thicker, and my chicken legs are less chicken-y.

It’s not a bad body. It’s a great body. I look good in most clothes. I’m mostly happy with it.

It’s not a skinny 139 body, though, and for some reason there is still that voice that pushes me to achieve that again. And I keep trying to tell that voice that that wasn’t achieved by going to the gym 3x a week, like I’ve been doing. That wasn’t achieved by running the fastest 5k I’ve ever run, which I did last week. That wasn’t achieved by decreasing the amount of crap I’m eating AND increasing the good stuff I NEED to eat.

I’ve been working out more in the last couple months than I have in a long time. It’s been hard to put in so much effort and feel like I’m seeing so few results. I would love to tone up, to slim down just a little more in a HEALTHY way, nothing too extreme. I’d love to have some real muscles. I’m working on it.

I am fighting that voice in my head that holds that 139 body up as what I should be striving for. That 139 body was sick. It was weak.

IWantToBeStrong I want to be strong.

 

 

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I Regret Not Sleep Training My Baby
BabiesParenthoodPopular PostsPostpartum Anxiety & Depression

I Regret Not Sleep Training My Baby

by Jill
written by Jill

Last night was the 7th.. 8th?? night in a row that Lowell has slept at least a solid 8 hour stretch. He’s a year old.

I am a new person. I am more sane. That’s not an exaggeration. The difference in the way I feel and my ability to function this week versus 2 weeks ago is like the difference between a drunk and sober person.

My anxiety is at nearly nonexistent levels, with the help of the sleep and my continued meds. I made the mistake of thinking I could stop the anxiety meds when I started sleeping and feeling so much better last week, but no. I soon learned that was a bad idea when by Saturday I wanted to rip my own skin off at the sound of my kids screaming.

So, back to the meds, which is FINE. Because, truly, the meds and the sleep have put me in a happy place that I haven’t been in in a lonnnnnnng time.

And because I can so clearly attribute this level of clarity and calm to my sudden ability to sleep for 8 hours without waking to a baby’s cries, I am feeling a deep regret for not working to attain this sooner.

Oh yes, I am talking about sleep training. Yes, I’m talking about the kind that would have my not-newborn baby crying in his room for controlled segments of time. I’m talking about the kind of sleep training I did with my other two babies.

I think it’s worth noting that at ages 6 and 3 they both seem to have a sincere love and attachment to me still. You know, for what it’s worth.

I contemplated working on sleep training with Lowell, our 1 year old, since he was about 7 months old. But honestly, in that moment, getting up and putting a boob in a baby’s mouth is easier than listening to cries, which I can never sleep through.

I was so desperate for sleep in that moment, that I couldn’t commit to more sacrifice for the long-term.

Lowell stopped sleeping in our room around 6 months old. I simply could not sleep in the same room with him very well. My anxiety leads to me waking often at the smallest baby noises, and consistently checking on him if he’s in the same room. In the same bed? Forget it. I’m wrecked with nerves. So nursing him while co-sleeping at night beyond 6 months old just was not an option.

exhaustion copy

I needed to sleep-train my baby because of my anxiety. And yet, in large part, it was my anxiety that kept me from doing so. For me, anxiety makes me overanalyze everything and hyper-critical of my own actions.

The voice of my anxiety was telling me that I would hurt my baby. That I’d make him hate me. That I was a bad mom for valuing my sleep over his needs.

My anxiety voice was not making that stuff up on it’s own. It read it in comments all over the internet, on a blog post I wrote about sleep training my daughter after my anxiety peaked with her, and even well-researched blog posts from medical professionals that make some valid points.

This summer, a study was released that summarized that “interrupted sleep can be as physically detrimental as no sleep at all.” I was living that reality. It didn’t matter if I went to bed at 9 and didn’t crawl out for the day until 9 the next morning. I was waking 3-4 times in that 12 hour stretch, and felt like I didn’t get more than a small nap.

Hands down, THE biggest trigger of my anxiety is exhaustion, and so the cycle just kept perpetuating itself. Anxious because I was exhausted. Exhausted because I was anxious.

From where I am now, I look back and really regret not sleep training Lowell, for not at least trying. I regret letting my anxiety amplify those voices and fears, for letting them be louder than my need for self-care.

I regret not recognizing that while, yes, his cortisol levels may shoot up, causing distress for a few nights, he’d have wound up with a more present, less anxious, and much happier mom much sooner.

This isn’t me trying to convince anyone to sleep train their baby. The deeper message here is that I regret letting voices and the judgements of people I don’t even know or care about mean more to me than my own instincts.

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On My Worst Days, On My Best Days
BabiesPostpartum Anxiety & DepressionThe Story

On My Worst Days, On My Best Days

by Jill
written by Jill

I honestly think I could count on one, maybe two hands the number of times I’ve taken all three kids somewhere by myself (outside of back and forth to school).

Scott’s done it more times than I’d even try to count. He often takes all three of them grocery shopping, leaving me here to work… which, to be completely honest, mostly just means leaving me here to be in silence and not feel the urge to scream.

For me, postpartum anxiety means living on edge. It means not only battling the intrusive thoughts, the obsessive fears, and the rapid and shallow rise and fall of my breath, but also this feeling of the walls quickly closing in on me whenever things get out of control. Obviously that’s something I run the risk of often when tasked with caring for 3 kids in public.

On my worst days, postpartum anxiety means truly struggling to get dressed, and then struggling even more to get out the door. I would say it’s a struggle to get out of bed, and it can be, but most days I have no choice because a 10 month old is calling out for me over the baby monitor, and nursing him in a quiet room is calming.

On my worst days, I run the necessary errands, but beyond that, there are no casual trips to the park or the post office or the library with the kids. An outing to the zoo or the pool are COMPLETELY out of question. No. I can not. Can not even deal with the thought of it.

But on days like today, one of the good days, I catch a glimpse of the future. I’m reminded that I will get to the point where taking all 3 somewhere with me, be it mundane errands or epic playdates, will become a non-issue. Granted, I don’t think it will ever be without it’s challenges, but future-me will at least be able to manage the thought of taking them somewhere by myself without fighting back a deep feeling of dread.

Today, I loaded up all 3 kids and took them to the local gym. I signed us up for a family membership, and I dropped the kids off at the on-site childcare. I hopped on a treadmill, unsure what my plan was. All I really expected out of myself was 30 minutes of movement. I gave myself permission to take easy outs. I started out at a decent pace, but told myself it was only for a mile. Then I could go slower. And after 2 miles, I could stop. I could walk. It was my first day in a gym in years.

As my feet found their rhythm, my headphones pounded in my ears to songs I’ve never heard in my life, and didn’t chose, but that Workout playlist on Spotify is the next best thing to a personal trainer. I kept up my pace. I passed one mile. I started to go faster.

I carried on, it wasn’t easy, but I found I craved the feeling of accomplishment more than a rest at every point that I’d given myself permission to back out.

I finished a 5k in 33 minutes.

I walked off that treadmill recognizing that I didn’t just kick that workout’s ass. I kicked postpartum anxiety’s ass. At least for today.

When I see people talk about how to “prevent and/or treat” postpartum mental disorders, exercise is almost always mentioned. And yes, it is powerful. I am really looking forward to incorporating it into my routine… if I can manage to keep a routine. I am really looking forward to that blast of endorphins, and all the other ways it can help me feel better, and get through this.

That said, I want to end this with a little note about the advice to just exercise PPMDs away.

On my worst days, there was no way I could get it together enough to exercise. On my worst days, I couldn’t even get it together enough to feed myself.

For me, the only way I got through all of that and to the point where I could even consider exercise was with getting real help and taking prescription medication.

Yes, exercise and self care can do a great deal to treat PPMDs, but please don’t ever assume it’s all that you or anyone else needs.

My anxiety meds are the life preserver that pulled me to the shore where I can finally stand up on my own two feet and run like hell from PPA.

Speaking of kicking PPA’s ass, please consider donating $10 or more to my Climb Out Of The Darkness fundraiser to benefit Postpartum Progress! There are great prizes up for grabs. More details here.

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Babies

Help Me Raise Money For Postpartum Progress, Win Cool Stuff From Joovy

by Jill
written by Jill

I have a confession to make. When I first started blogging, started really getting to know the sphere of parenting bloggers, and got to know other moms on Twitter, I noticed quite a few of them talked about struggles with postpartum depression/anxiety. Like, a fairly high percentage of the women I knew online.

I hate to admit that for a time I thought it was “trendy,” something these women were deciding to blame stress on. God, I really hate typing that out loud. I hate putting that admission out to the public. It’s not that I thought any of them were making things up. I just figured some were trying to latch onto PPD  so they could give their struggles a name. I mean, there were just so many. That couldn’t possibly be true- that they were ALL struggling with some form of postpartum mental disorder.

What I didn’t realize at the time was what a debt I would owe to those women who were speaking out, sharing their struggles and calling them what they REALLY were. I didn’t realize that a few years later, I would be one of them. And a few years after that I would be one of them again. Without them, I would have never recognized myself in this list of Symptoms of Postpartum Depression & Anxiety (In Plain Mama English).

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PPMDs are not “trendy.” You may hear more and more women speaking out about their struggles, but I assure it’s not because it’s a cool club. I thank God for the women who have come before me, who have shared their stories, who continue to put faces to postpartum mental disorders like postpartum depression, anxiety, OCD, and psychosis.

We are talking about them more because they need to be talked about, beyond the sensationalist coverage they get every time a mom harms or kills her children and/or herself. We are talking about them more because we are part of a movement, because we were helped by the women who talked about them before us.

We are all climbing out of this together. We are reaching out to grab the hands of more women with a PPMD than have been reached out to ever before. We are not going to stop talking about them. We’re not going to stop climbing.

This video of Warrior Moms who’ve climbed out before, who are back in the world again, fills my heart with joy! Mothers, we can do this. If you’re struggling, you can climb out. You WILL get the old you back.

A HUGE thanks to David Gray for letting us use his song “Back In The World Again” from his new album Mutineers for this video. It’s. So. Perfect. 

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Now, we need your help…

whether you’ve been personally impacted or not. Do you know and love a mother in your life? Or a woman or girl who may become a mother? Then this is personal to you.

PostpartumProgressFundraiser

Please consider donating to the Postpartum Progress annual Climb Out of the Darkness fundraiser. On June 21st, I’ll be hiking with my family, and reaching out to other local moms who are also climbing out of their own struggles.

My goal is to raise $5,000 to support the cause.

Will you please consider donating $10? Will you “buy” me lunch? Each $10 or more donation enters you into a drawing for one of several awesome prizes, donated by Joovy. They are thrilled to support this community and this cause, and I’m so appreciative.

Here’s what up for grabs:

toofold

 

Joovy Too Fold Stroller– An all-in-one all-terrain stroller valued at $800

spoon

 

Joovy Spoon– A contemporary walker (which Lowell is OBSESSED with) valued at $100

BoobGiftSet

Joovy Boob Gift Set– A bottle set, including nipples and breast pump adapters valued at $130

LooPotty

LooStep

Joovy Loo Potty and StepTool valued at $60 together

To be entered to win these prizes, you must donate through my page here. If you’d like to join my team, you can also do so at this link!

Since donations will be accepted through the 30th, I will announce winners the first week of July. Thank you in advance for any and all support, for any way you can help spread the word, and for all the love and support  y’all have shown me in the past as I’ve written about my battle with postpartum anxiety and intrusive thoughts.

Mostly, thank you to the women who spoke out and climbed out before me, the ones who reached a hand out to me and continue to help me climb out today.

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BabiesPopular PostsPostpartum Anxiety & DepressionThe Story

For Me, I Guess It’s Always A Matter Of Time- Postpartum Anxiety

by Jill
written by Jill

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2 pills. Lexapro this time, not Zoloft.

The anxiety is back, and I’m dealing with it. I have the gift of experience behind me now. The gift of knowing what to look for. The gift of knowing what to do, where to go, the words to say over the phone to my medical provider without stumbling or tripping over embarrassment and fear.

Like having a cold or strep throat. I was/am sick. I am taking medication for it. I will get better.

Postpartum Anxiety never shows itself to me right after the baby is born. In fact, I was so blissed out over Lowell this time (once I got over the horrific postpartum healing experience) that I thought it wouldn’t bother me ever again.

But, just to be sure, I took extra precautions. My husband and I have guarded my sleep and well-being with ferocity this time around. We hired help so I wasn’t trying to balance work along with everything else. We let obligations slide. We pressed ourselves less.

Still, it’s back. I’d say it began to really show itself around 5 months postpartum. I tried to wait it out. We had a rough start to the new year, so I thought I just needed to get life under control.

But the more I struggled, the more I realized it wouldn’t happen without help. I didn’t want it to get as bad as it did last time before I reached out.

So if I’ve seemed less engaging, less involved here and other social media platforms lately, if I’ve missed an email you’ve sent, I’m sorry. Half of that is because I’m struggling (and my reaction to anxiety is to just shut down and ignore everything), and half of that is because I’m fighting, and giving myself permission to work at my own pace.

The meds are working, though, and I’m working through it. It just takes time, and grace, and support. I’m lucky to have all 3.

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