PPD

                

               “No one can prepare you for parenthood”….I must have heard this a million times after we found out we were expecting the twins.  People would then attempt to explain what they meant or toss a little anecdotal story about their kids and I would laugh and move along.  We spent the whole pregnancy wishing, waiting, hoping, dreaming and anticipating what it would be like when they were born.

                It…was…a…nightmare.

                Don’t get me wrong.  I LOVE my children but to say that your life changes in an instant is the most gigantic understatement in the land.  Your entire existence changes, your way of doing things changes, your body changes, your head changes, your relationships immediately change…your life becomes completely foreign to you.  For anyone that knows me, I do not do change well and this time was no different.  I was a trainwreck. 

     When we got home from the hospital the kids were on an every 2-3 hour feeding rotation sticking closer to the 2.5 hour mark.   This was our routine: feed babies ½ breast milk and ½ formula from a bottle – 1 hour, pump – 30 minutes, wash pump parts – 15 minutes, make bottles for next feed -10 minutes.  Did you do the math?  When all was said and done I was LUCKY to get 30 minutes of peace before it was time to do it all over again.  Throw in the laundry that needed to be done, eating, an occasional shower, etc. and there was very little sleep happening.  I was losing it.  I cried all the time.  I couldn’t eat…I lost 44 pounds in a matter of 3 weeks.  Every time someone came to visit I had to resist the urge to run out and get in the backseat of their car and scream “take me with you”.  I would look at my babies and be so overwhelmed with love one minute and then the next minute I would wonder if I made a mistake.  A mistake….no one EVER told me I would look at my own children and wish they weren’t here.  How was this possible?  How had I spent 9 months waiting anxiously to be a mom only to wish on some days, ok a LOT of days, that I could go back in time and erase it all?  This is the stuff no books prepare you for.  This is the stuff I am CONVINCED new moms don’t tell you because they don’t want to scare you.  How do I know this?  Well, I was very honest about what I was going through with my friends and family and nearly every woman I spoke to said they felt similarly after their one baby was born.  Then they would usually follow it up with “I don’t even know how you are functioning with two babies” and the truth was, I was barely functioning. 

Mason got to stay home with us for two weeks.  For the second week I cried everyday because I didn’t know how I was going to do it without him.  He was so wonderful.  He would find me crying in the shower and just help me into my robe and tell me it was going to be ok, although I am not entirely sure he knew why I was crying in the first place…and neither did I.  He thought I was falling apart…and I was.  I dreaded the night time because everyone who had brought dinner or come over to meet the babies would go home and I would be left with these two incredibly needy little people who I knew were going to keep me up all night.  I had increasingly more vivid thoughts about running away and never looking back and I knew I needed help.

I called my doctor and left a message on my wonderful nurse line (the one I called 459856 times while I was pregnant) and just said I needed help.  Sweet Kelly, my nurse, called me back and she knew.  I could tell in her voice, and she said “that message you left was not my normal, happy Kelly…what’s going on” and I just lost it.  I managed to squeak out “this is really hard and I am so tired…” and she agreed and asked me if I wanted to come in and talk to Dr. Richards or what did I need.  I told her I felt like I needed my anxiety med dosage increased.  She promised to talk to Dr. Richards and call me back and she did in about an hour and I had a new prescription waiting at the pharmacy. 

Later that night, my wonderful friend Brooke came over with Brian and Harper.  We ended up in the nursery, just she and I, talking about it all.  Brooke nursed Harper until 13 months and she LOVED it.  She raved about what a bonding experience it was etc. so I told her my plight.  That I wasn’t making enough for them both, that the pumping was killing me, that I was sore and bleeding and still having to buy formula too.  And she helped me feel like if I couldn’t do the breastfeeding anymore that was ok.  I quit that next afternoon.   For the next 3 days I hurt like nobody’s business but I was done with the pumping.  I was getting an hour after feedings vs. the normal 30 minutes.  I was taking my meds and I finally felt a little like eating again.  By the 4 week mark I felt like the fog was lifting a little and I could breathe again. 

Around this time I discovered my hair was falling out by handfuls and I am told this is completely normal after birth but it broke my heart…just another change. I also realized that despite losing the 44 pounds of the 57 I gained during pregnancy my clothes were not just tight but not fitting AT ALL.  How could this be?  I was within 13 pounds of my pre-pregnancy weight and I couldn’t wear one shirt in my closet because they pulled across my hips, some even pulled across my back…what????  I was told that everything “shifts” during pregnancy and your hips and body may not ever go back to how they were.  Greaaaaat.  I rotated my 5 black shirts that I could fit into and the one pair of denim capris that I bought to “get me through”.  I had to focus on something else because if not my body was going to make me go crazy.  So, the babies and I started going somewhere everyday.  Some mornings we would walk outside if it wasn’t too hot, other mornings we would go to Costco or target and I would just stroll around out among the living!  We also moved “base camp” into the living room.  Set up a changing station, brought in the boppies and the Rock N’ Plays and opened up the curtains on the windows.  I had to get some sun and see the world and not feel so isolated in our bedroom with the curtains drawn.  Everyday got a little better.  I still cried daily, but it went from 8 times a day to maybe twice.  My wonderful Aunt Jan started coming over to be with us on Mondays and Fridays.  She would bring breakfast and the minute she got there she would either send me off to bed or out to do something.  Sometimes it was the bank, other times the store, but I knew they were in good hands with her.  The even better part was, when I got home I had someone to talk to.  Someone who told me she got it and understood and to take it one day at a time.  I attribute getting through those beginning weeks to her…she saved me and she ADORES my babies! 

Shortly after Aunt Jan started coming over my Aunt Mickie would come over once a week.  I have affectionately nicknamed her “The Baby Whisperer” because she has patience for DAYS.  I would leave them with her, go to my room to shower or whatever, come back out and she would have them both asleep in the boppies beside her.  She held them in her lap and talked in their ear for as long as it took to get them to burp.  She rocked and stroked and sang to them for hours until they fell asleep.  To this day, she still has a way with them like no one else…even me.  Mason and I are in awe of her and how “in her element” she is with them.  How lucky they are to grow up with her in their life.

So many other people came and helped and snuggled my kids and let me cry and brought us food and paper products (you don’t even think about this kind of thing but Mrs. Patton brought us every paper good under the sun; dishwasher soap, paper plates, hand sanitizer, clothes detergent…all stuff you don’t even realize you need and it was like Christmas when I saw it!).  My parents...my wonderful, understanding, amazing parents....they came over two Friday nights and stayed from 5 to midnight so Mason and I could sleep for longer than 2 hours.  But more importantly, they told me I was ok.  That this was all normal.  I remember looking at my dad through tears and asking "when will I ever enjoy them".  And he told me, "Ohhhh, you will more than enjoy them. The first time they dance across that stage or kick that soccer goal...your heart will explode."  All of these things helped me survive, get through the next day, etc. because there were so many moments I didn’t think I would make it.  It brought new meaning to “it takes a village…” and our village was amazing and still is.

After it was all said and done, I am told I was experiencing post-partum depression, or “the baby blues”, but I am here to tell you…it was like no blues I have ever experienced.  I still have “relapses” or days where I think I just can’t do it anymore but I have tried to take steps to make sure I have an out.  I am a part of an incredible MoM’s group (Mothers of Multiples) and they have been the most amazing source of comfort and help.  Everything from my kids won’t nap to what’s your favorite diaper rash treatment to I am losing it today!  They are always there to lend a supportive ear and answer questions because they have been in the trenches.  I have also been fortunate enough to get to go to dinner and socialize with some of these ladies at our monthly MoMs gathering.  Food for my soul, I tell you.  

I am also getting better at asking for help and not trying to do everything on my own.  I have had to learn they won’t break, crying isn’t the end of the world, and mama’s sanity is just as important for their health and safety as car seats and full bellies.  But I am making it my mission to tell other expectant women THE TRUTH.  I think it is important that we talk about this stuff, the hard stuff.  That we tell moms “hey, its going to SUCK but it does get better”…and it does.  That it’s ok to look at this new little life and love it fiercely and dislike it intensely at the same time.  That it is ok to mourn your former body, your former hair, your former life that was nothing but concerts, sleeping in, and freedom.  That even if you wished on every star, crossed your fingers, stood on your head, and paid GOOD MONEY to have this baby, there will still be days where you think WHAT WAS I THINKING!!!  And that is ok…it doesn’t make you a bad mom, it doesn’t make you love your kid any less…it makes you a human being.  But a day will come (and I guarantee you it will probably be after they are 3 months old because before then they are like rocks…they do NOTHING but take from you with little in return) where they will smile at you, or hold your finger, or nuzzle their head in your neck in the middle of the night while you are trying to get them to sleep and you will know…you will know this is where you are supposed to be.  And that the sleepless nights, the hair falling out, the body that now droops and sags and has skin tags (like seriously, where did they all come from?) and the countless amounts of laundry and clothes covered in poop and spit up are all worth it.  And you will cry happy tears…I know I did!