History

I am going to start this history at my loss of Adrian. There were a few incidents earlier in my life but nothing I would consider clinical depression so I see no point in dredging it up here.

After three and a half years of marriage, being told we couldn't have children without immoral intervention, me losing 65 pounds and my husband quitting smoking we finally found ourselves pregnant. No sooner had we rejoiced than I "knew" something was wrong. The next day I started bleeding heavily. That evening Adrian was born. Two days later I had to go back to work. Everyone pretty much acted like it never happened.

Later that month, my fertile signs were really obvious so we kept trying, now that we had proved the doctors wrong. A few weeks later HPTs and doctors agreed that I was pregnant again. The first few weeks were very stressful, having just lost Adrian. Once I had an early ultrasound that showed my little peanut moving and with a perfect little fluttering heart, I was blissful. My pregnancy was perfect. No morning sickness. Serious aversions and cravings but nothing difficult to deal with. No spotting. Perfect blissful pregnancy. My son was born via c-section 16 days early. I spent most of my hospital stay crying because he was in NICU for low blood sugar. I didn't know to demand to breast feed him to avoid this problem. I do not remember most of his first two weeks of life. I remember him screaming for the whole ride home. I remember freaking out about the cats and kicking them outside. I remember sitting in bed rocking my son and crying. Luckily my OB caught that I had PPD. I had no idea. He put me on medication. Once it kicked in, everything was wonderful. I loved everything about having a baby, even being pooped on. I tried to wean myself off the medicine a few times. I had gotten myself off of it completely by the time I started my new job when my son was 7 months old (I had been laid off from my job when my maternity leave ended) and I was my old self again.

When I was pregnant with my second son I found myself sitting at my desk crying all day a couple months before he was born. My OB put me on meds which resolved the issue. I stayed on the meds until several months after he was born.

Then came Susannah. My sweet precious baby girl. She was a surprise baby. She was born still 1t 17 weeks 2 days after two months of problem after problem. I did not seek medication because I felt I should grieve without trying to stifle it. I went back to work much too soon. I probably got pregnant much too soon too, but after a loss like that, the drive to be pregnant again is strong when it kicks in.

Three months after Susannah was born I became pregnant again. This was a terrible pregnancy. Not because I had morning sickness or sciatica or all the other "fun" parts of pregnancy. I could barely function. I was terrified all the time. My mother had to tell me that I needed to seek help. About 2 months into the pregnancy my OB put me back on medication. It took the worst edge off the anxiety but that is all it did. The rest of the pregnancy was like carrying a time bomb in my womb. It only got worse when I found out I was having a girl. My girls were in heaven. To the last minute I could not believe I was going to get to bring a girl home with me. Thankfully I was wrong and my precious baby girl came home with me.

Throughout all of this childbearing other things happened. I found out that my husband had a lifelong addiction about which I knew nothing. This addiction manifested itself repeatedly over the years starting with the night before Everett was born and coming back at every stressful moment along the way, including when we lost Susannah. We also fell into financial difficulties between a mortgage scam, my husband's hours being cut, my new job paying less than half what my old job paid and us tyring to spend our way out of the grief after Susannah was born. We ended up losing our home a couple of years ago.

Another aspect of my depression has come from my health. Before Susannah's pregnancy I was healthy as a horse. Even though I have been fat since I was 8 years old, I had always been very healthy. Perfect blood pressure, perfect blood work. I had allergies and mild asthma. For a kid who grew up with two smokers, I got off easy. After Susannah and Lily it was like my body had it in for me. My blood pressure was suddenly high. Suddenly I had the rheumatoid arthritis with which my mother had suffered for years and my sister had recently been diagnosed. For the first time in my life I hated myself and my body and I was scared I was going to die. I had put on much more weight with the girls than I had with the boys and it didn't come back off like it had before. Getting around and trying to keep up with the kids made my heart race. I was tired all the time. When I did get up the energy to go to the club or take a walk, I would end up feeling like i was having a heart attack.

After doing Weight Watchers again as well as some other diets, I decided that I should look into getting gastric bypass. All my doctors thought it was a wonderful idea. I dove into all the meetings and conferences and testing that is required to get approved. While i was doing that, my doctor was tyring to get my BP under control. I also found a painful spot in my leg and we discovered I have Baker's Cysts in my calves. By this time I was back on antidepressants because I was having trouble concentrating at work and I had zero patience for my children. I was within 10 pounds of my doctor's goal weight for my surgery when my insurance changed. I was actually excited because it meant I could go to my friend's surgeon. After starting the whole rigmarole to get approved through the new insurance I was informed that gastric bypass was specifically excluded and would not be covered.

The straw that broke this camel's back occurred this past October. We had found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant again. I was overjoyed to be pregnant. I had the extra bonus of the pregnancy taking away my rheumatoid arthritis pain. For the first time ever my OB had to put me on progesterone. That did not bode well. I did okay not stressing as bad as I had with Lily. Unfortunately my sweet baby boy Charlie did not stay with me. The process of losing him led to me bleeding out and almost dying.

I no longer wanted to live. I looked at my babies and realized how much better off they would be without the burden of having me as their mother.

Well, that is the basic story. It doesn't cover a great may ins and outs like guilt but at least these are the fundamentals. It makes the depression make a little more sense.

God Bless all who read this.