I am starting my own blog to reduce my boredom and give me a place to put my thoughts. Recently some people I know put some very difficult words out for all the world to see. I have been chicken to do the same and now I want to set the record straight. I didn't talk to people from high school for over ten years. It seems so silly now. I found out recently that I'm not the only one who grew up in college and beyond. We aren't kids anymore so the past is just that the past. I'll admit some of it I don't want to remember, but we did have some fun times in high school.
The truth is something happened to me that I was not at all ready to talk about so I just avoided people. I got married in 1998 to a really great guy I met in college. We were giddy and in love. We decided after nine months of bliss to have a baby. Why not? I was bored and we wanted one. That sounds terrible to say that, but it is true. Boom one month later I was expecting. Three months later John (my husband) lost his job. That wasn't the best timing to say the least. He did find another job eventually and at seven months pregnant we moved to a new apartment. We were in such a hurry to get into a place that we didn't fully evaluate the situation and neither of us thought to pray about it. I guess I don't need to say there were consequences for that hasty decision. Our apartment manager was difficult to live with and we had some incidents which in my very pregnant state led to my having panic attacks. I'm not sure how many I had.
Those were the stresses that went before the birth of my first child in addition to being in a new state away from my own family. I went into labor early and that took me by surprise. The nursery wasn't ready yet. We didn't have hardly any clothes for a newborn. I was terrified. I wanted an epidural because I didn't think I could handle the pain. In my stressed state even that didn't relax me. The medicine made me sick and irritable. It also made me so numb that I didn't do to well pushing.
Out he came and I was thinking I can sleep now. This isn't real. He wasn't real. Emotionally I rejected my own baby. The other part of me knew I was a mother and I had to do this. So I went through the motions and did whatever I had to do. I remember trying to hold him and feeling nothing. But I don't believe that means I didn't love him because I believe love is an act not an emotion. After a few episodes in the hospital the doctor tried to convince me I had post-partem depression. I was told that was rare. So surely he was wrong. He wasn't, but I'm getting ahead of myself. He ordered a psych evaluation before he would release me, but I am pretty good at convincing complete strangers that I'm just fine. So I went home to drive my husband nuts. I was demanding and horrible for a couple days and then our pastor had a talk with me. He told me to snap out of it and take care of my family(basically). I do thank him because before he came I wasn't trusting God to help me with this, but snap out of it I did not. I prayed and committed it to the Lord, but the longer I went without sleep(sorry didn't mention that) the more wacky I became. I began to get more and more confused. I lost my short term memory. I got lost in places I had been dozens of times. I no longer spoke in normal sentences. That is when I put myself in a mental health hospital. It is very hard to talk about that, but I wish I could more. As awful as it was, during that time of confusion the only thing I could trust was God's words. So for hours I would quote verses and sing songs. Yes, I was crazy, but still His. I was put Haldol and my symptoms did improve. I believe the prayers of God's people healed me more than the drugs did. The doctor was shocked how quickly I improved. I went home after six days much better mentally, but the side affects were killing me. Rather than take me off the medication I was put on a higher dose of Cogenten (fancy benidrill). I couldn't sleep now because I was in physical pain from the spasms. Finally, I was put on something else and taken off that drug completely. My new doctor told me I had post-partem psychosis. At that time, it was still considered this horrible thing since Andrea Yates had killed her children less than a year before.
So telling people I had that wasn't something I wanted to do. I never hurt my child. I never wanted to hurt my child. I was dangerous to him because of my inability to care for him properly. My family took care of me for over a month and then a family friend stayed with me.
By the time I was on my own I could think clearly again.
Today post-partem psychosis is considered a form of bi-polar disorder which I was officially diagnosed with in 2004. Considering my history it shouldn't be a huge surprise. I had mood swings for years and there is a history of mental illness on both sides of my family. I'll let that sink in before I share anymore.
The truth is something happened to me that I was not at all ready to talk about so I just avoided people. I got married in 1998 to a really great guy I met in college. We were giddy and in love. We decided after nine months of bliss to have a baby. Why not? I was bored and we wanted one. That sounds terrible to say that, but it is true. Boom one month later I was expecting. Three months later John (my husband) lost his job. That wasn't the best timing to say the least. He did find another job eventually and at seven months pregnant we moved to a new apartment. We were in such a hurry to get into a place that we didn't fully evaluate the situation and neither of us thought to pray about it. I guess I don't need to say there were consequences for that hasty decision. Our apartment manager was difficult to live with and we had some incidents which in my very pregnant state led to my having panic attacks. I'm not sure how many I had.
Those were the stresses that went before the birth of my first child in addition to being in a new state away from my own family. I went into labor early and that took me by surprise. The nursery wasn't ready yet. We didn't have hardly any clothes for a newborn. I was terrified. I wanted an epidural because I didn't think I could handle the pain. In my stressed state even that didn't relax me. The medicine made me sick and irritable. It also made me so numb that I didn't do to well pushing.
Out he came and I was thinking I can sleep now. This isn't real. He wasn't real. Emotionally I rejected my own baby. The other part of me knew I was a mother and I had to do this. So I went through the motions and did whatever I had to do. I remember trying to hold him and feeling nothing. But I don't believe that means I didn't love him because I believe love is an act not an emotion. After a few episodes in the hospital the doctor tried to convince me I had post-partem depression. I was told that was rare. So surely he was wrong. He wasn't, but I'm getting ahead of myself. He ordered a psych evaluation before he would release me, but I am pretty good at convincing complete strangers that I'm just fine. So I went home to drive my husband nuts. I was demanding and horrible for a couple days and then our pastor had a talk with me. He told me to snap out of it and take care of my family(basically). I do thank him because before he came I wasn't trusting God to help me with this, but snap out of it I did not. I prayed and committed it to the Lord, but the longer I went without sleep(sorry didn't mention that) the more wacky I became. I began to get more and more confused. I lost my short term memory. I got lost in places I had been dozens of times. I no longer spoke in normal sentences. That is when I put myself in a mental health hospital. It is very hard to talk about that, but I wish I could more. As awful as it was, during that time of confusion the only thing I could trust was God's words. So for hours I would quote verses and sing songs. Yes, I was crazy, but still His. I was put Haldol and my symptoms did improve. I believe the prayers of God's people healed me more than the drugs did. The doctor was shocked how quickly I improved. I went home after six days much better mentally, but the side affects were killing me. Rather than take me off the medication I was put on a higher dose of Cogenten (fancy benidrill). I couldn't sleep now because I was in physical pain from the spasms. Finally, I was put on something else and taken off that drug completely. My new doctor told me I had post-partem psychosis. At that time, it was still considered this horrible thing since Andrea Yates had killed her children less than a year before.
So telling people I had that wasn't something I wanted to do. I never hurt my child. I never wanted to hurt my child. I was dangerous to him because of my inability to care for him properly. My family took care of me for over a month and then a family friend stayed with me.
By the time I was on my own I could think clearly again.
Today post-partem psychosis is considered a form of bi-polar disorder which I was officially diagnosed with in 2004. Considering my history it shouldn't be a huge surprise. I had mood swings for years and there is a history of mental illness on both sides of my family. I'll let that sink in before I share anymore.
Thank you for your openess, Amy. I'm sure that is not the easiest thing to do, but I believe God will bless you for it, as well as bless others who may have struggled in the past or are currently. I love you.
ReplyDeleteWOW Amy! Thanks for sharing about this difficult time in your life. I know the LORD will use it for His glory!
ReplyDeleteMy Grampy ---- Amy that was beautiful! I am actually in tears right now thinking of my own Grandfathers. I have no idea if I will ever see them again. As far as I know they never accepted Christ so for that my heart aches. They had opportunity, but didn't want to listen. I am thankful that my own kids have Grandparents who I Know are saved and the joys my kids will have with not only memories, but also the joy of seeing them again. Thanks for the blog!!
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