I have plans to actually go do something for fun with a friend who lives here in Connecticut, and not far away, so I’m going to make this short. (Yes, I am incredibly proud of myself!)
I did not hear my doctor say “Postpartum Depression” yesterday. I have mixed feelings about this. What she did say is accurate and wonderfully helpful. The focus was, as it should have been, on what to do to help. I am to take Bendaryl as a sleep aid, since it works well, on a strict schedule. I am to take my meds on a strict schedule. I have been “compliant” with all of my medication, but my sleep has been so erratic that I don’t take them at the same time every day. That might help. I am also to take a higher dose of my SSRI (one kind of antidepressant), Effexor.
I immediately filled the new prescription and have started the new dose. I am much closer to following the new schedule. I took the Benadryl and slept. Walter, may God bless his tiny heart, put himself to sleep in his co-sleeper after filling up on milk. I hit snooze on my alarm for two hours, but it’s progress.
The mixed feelings I have about knowing that this could be much, much worse? I worry that I got everyone who reads this all worked up over nothing. If it’s just a phase, just a low-mood, might pass on its own but lets give the meds a boost anyway… do I have the right to be posting alongside women with “real” depression?
And then, the emails came. Two. They said “me too.” One, from a dear friend, said that me writing about my feelings so publicly gave her the courage to write and tell me about her PPD diagnosis. No one has said that I don’t feel terrible enough to be asking for help or to be writing about depression. Right in this moment, I feel the truth in that. I am depressed. I could be much more depressed. I could also be two inches shorter or taller. It’s neither here nor there.
Thank you for your support. Thank you for telling me that I have helped you. Thank you for asking me questions. Thank you for talking. Silence is the enemy, here. All monsters are very scary in the dark. Turn on the light, and they might not be so very big after all.