Hard Week

I’m not going into details here, but just know this has been one of the hardest, if not the hardest, weeks of my life.

I weaned my beloved Patrice from nursing. This was my first experience weaning a baby. The other two weaned themselves when I was pregnant.

I still can’t sit and cuddle her without her wanting to nurse though it has been over a week. I am anxiously awaiting sitting and cuddling my baby; for now we stand and dance to songs.

I continue to live on a yo-yo of emotion. The darn yo-yo can bounce up and down every few hours. I want to cut the string, but instead, I am trying a new medication. I am hoping it helps. It is a medication I could not take while nursing Patrice. We have also upped one of the my other medications beyond what is safe for her to get via nursing.

I typed today, in a tweet, “as a mom with mental illness.” Then I cried. I never wanted this. I just wanted a third child. I don’t know if these depression issues would have come out without postpartum depression, but I am going to say yes, they would; it makes me feel better to think they would have shown up regardless.

Oh, and I have two pieces of advice for you:

Unless you know the person very well and are within your relationship to do so, don’t tell a depressed person to count their blessings. I know my blessings. I do. And there are a few people that can tell me that without getting an earful, the rest should really just stuff it.

2nd bit of advice, read www.spermiestyle.com and www.makemommygosomethingsomething.com. I will warn you, they are both more, well, blunt than I am, but these ladies can write and right now they can express things I can’t even touch on.

Survive til you Thrive!

8 Responses to Hard Week

  1. Honey,
    I am so proud of you. I can’t keep telling you that enough. What you have been through was hell, but look at you…you are climbing up from it. While you may not see it…we do. Even if you feel like you’re just taking baby steps, that’s ok. They are baby steps no less and they are in the right direction.
    I know that you are going to be well. I know it.
    Mental illness does not define you just like your MS does not define you. You are Charity. You are a wonderful wife, mother, and friend.
    Don’t forget that.

    • Just hard to see it in print, you know? It’s haunting me a little bit. Thank you for your neverending encouragement. I appreciate it. More than words can say.

  2. I can’t say it better than Kim, but I’m adding my love to the pile.

  3. People have told you to “count your blessings”??? Um, yeah. Because you’re so ungrateful for what you have that you just felt like making things harder for yourself. Right. Those people should definitely just stuff it. I’m so sorry.

    You’ve made a start, and that’s the hardest part. You will get better. You will be able to sit and cuddle Patrice without your heart breaking. You will miss nursing her even when she’s moved on and stopped asking. But you are putting on your oxygen mask now, and you are doing the best you can to make sure you are there for her in all the other ways that she needs you.

    You can do this. You will.

  4. I am so glad to hear your voice. So glad you are home.

    You are strong and powerful, you will keep on keeping on.

    Weaning is so rough, I remember those days of wanting to snuggle and holding back. Take your time and make your way through it. It was really emotional for me, so I forewarn you that it is totally normal to feel sad about weaning your baby. Even when your baby is barely a baby anymore (like mine was!). Huge hugs to you, mama.

  5. I have and continue to mourn not nursing Patrice, but I am glad to be able to take different meds that will hopefully help us all be a healthier family.

  6. I knew something was off this week, and missed you! I have been praying for you in your absence.

    Who told you to count your blessings? Let me at ’em! If anyone knows what a blessing each day is, it is you! I remember days you could barely breathe, let alone walk. Now you are a runner. You know the difference in your body and you know it is a blessing. The person or persons who told you to start counting should starting running, or they can just stand there and stuff it. (By the way, the visual of you saying “stuff it” made me smile. 🙂 It is things like that I miss from college when I would be seeing you every day. That and when you would say “yucky”.)

    Patrice did not cause your depression. Your body did. You know too well how a body’s wiring can be messed up. This is just a different mess than you are familiar with. Just like days of Beta Seron injections and various other MS meds, you will have to adjust to a new med. And it, or something else, will work. Eventually. Never as fast as we want, and maybe not the way we want. But something will work.

    I wish I could be there to hug you and hold your hand and tell you that “mental illness” is no different than “physical illness” except it doesn’t always show at first glance. Yes, when you were in your wheelchair, people could tell that something wasn’t working correctly and were more likely to make accomodations for you. With mental illness you don’t have the luxary to tell them to shove it when incessant questions or demands start to push you over the edge. And yelling, “I’m depressed, people! Stop bugging me!” probably isn’t going to help.

    I’m still praying for you. Especially now as your relationship with Patrice changes. I don’t know that feeling first hand, but I can imagine the ache in your heart.

    Keep breathing. Keep taking your medications. And keeping pushing forward. You WILL see the other side of this thing sooner than later!

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