Opening Up.

I've been experiencing a lot of Post Partum Depression lately. I had this after Samantha was born, but it seemed to decrease when I got pregnant with Maggie so quickly. This time, however, it's really taking control over my life. Panic attacks seem to be a daily occurrence... more than I can really handle sometimes. It's Tuesday. My inlaws are in North Dakota, and my parents have returned to Georgia. Brandon has his overnight on Tuesday's, which means I'm alone. I've never liked being home alone to begin with, but with my kids, I get even more terrified that someone's going to break in, or that something's going to happen. The girls usually stay at my in laws, so that I can try to get some rest and catch up on housework or jewelry making. I'm really nervous about tonight... I hope I can get some rest, and not have too many panic attacks.

I don't wish this depression on anyone. It's absolutely unbearable. I haven't really discussed how unbearable, because I'm embarassed by the problems it has caused me... but I know I need to open up about it...

I'm going to try, now. I hope this doesn't bring judgement upon me and my ability to be a parent or a spouse... or a friend for that matter.

On July 12th, Brandon and I got in a petty argument that turned in to a rather large disagreement. Leading up to this, I was feeling pretty lost as a new mother of two... and felt like I couldn't get my bearings with it, and was feeling very overwhelmed. The fight between us got absolutely ridiculous, and Brandon screamed at me to leave. I was caught off guard by this, and didn't know what to do. I ended up packing a bag, kissing the girls goodbye, and leaving. I drove around for hours, reaching out for a friend, realizing that my friends all had lives, and feeling like I couldn't be intrusive. I texted our mutual friend Nick, who happened to be out of town. He asked what was up, and I told him that Brandon had asked me to leave. He was at a Twins game, and didn't talk much. The loneliness set in more. I ended up driving back and forth to Sioux City twice (it's an hour each way). I got back to Sioux Falls for the second time, and had a lot of missed calls and text messages from Brandon, begging me not to leave, apologizing. I sat in a hotel parking lot for an hour, debating on what to do. I didn't know where my life was any longer. I didn't know if I was going to have a husband, kids... my life.

I ended up driving home, to an empty house. Brandon had taken the girls to his parents house, and was driving around looking for me. I got up, went to Walgreens, and bought a box of sleeping pills. I came home, took a few... or maybe more than a few, and then Brandon returned home. Nothing came of that night. I fell asleep, and luckily woke up in the morning.

I didn't know how to act or what to say or what to do. It was a Monday. I felt alone and lost. I couldn't stop sobbing. I slept most of the day, and Brandon returned from work, went and visited the kids at his parents house, and came home. More arguing started. More tears. More of the unknown out there. He kept asking for me to forgive him. I didn't know what to do. Those words "Just leave" were haunting me. I was trying to contemplate whether or not to stay or go. I ended up sleeping in the guest room.

Tuesdays are his overnighter. That's when things got even worse for me. I was alone, because I was in no shape to take care of my children. I was on the computer, talking to Nick, and writing a suicide note. Nick asked me to make a promise to him that I wouldn't do anything. I told him I couldn't do that. I went upstairs, suicide note in hand, and was shocked to see that Brandon had returned home. He told me he was that worried about us, about me. I was balling more. Again, I went to sleep in the guest room, but it didn't last long... I started having a panic attack, which then caused my SVT to take over. I woke Brandon up and told him I needed to go to the ER.

When we arrived at the ER, my heartrate was above 130 beats per minute. They rushed me to the cardiac room, and hooked me up to a lot of monitors, and took my vitals and blood. The nurse was asking questions in order to get my history, and one of them was "have you ever condidered harming yourself?" I was honest. I said yes. She asked when. And I told her this past weekend. My blood pressure kept dropping throughout the time I was at the Emergency Room, and my EKG read that I was having a SVT episode. The doctor ended up sending in a psychologist to examine me... he asked a lot of questions, and then left. (Side note: If you've ever seen Office Space, he totally looked and talked like the guy always asking for his stapler.) The doctor then returned and said that he wanted to put a 24 hour hold on me at the mental hospital.

Nothing was really explained about what that meant, but Brandon kept urging me to do so, not realizing that neither one of us had a choice. It was a decision that the court was making for me. We waited for about an hour for an ambulance to come and take me to the hospital across town. I was terrified.

The ambulance finally arrived, and I was put in the back, buckled in, and away we went. I kept thinking "ambulances are for sick people." We got to the crazy hospital (as I lovingly call it... that or the nut house) and I was led up a back way through the ambulance bay by an ARMED security officer. I got to the floor in which I would be staying, was patted down, metal detected, asked to remove my bra because of the underwiring, checked to see if my pants had strings, had my vitals taken, and led into my room.

My room.... a small bed on the floor. A cabinet, locked. A mirror. A sink. A door, locked. I was then told if I needed to use the restroom I would have to ask to have the door unlocked. For our safety was the reasoning behind it. It was about 5 am before I was settled. I have not ever been so terrified in my entire life.

At 7 am, I heard a voice say "checks." (It was so much like Girl Interrupted, I couldn't help but laugh.) Then I was told Breakfast had arrived, and that I needed to go have my vitals taken once more.

You know in the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy opens the door from her house and enters into Oz, and the color goes from Black and White to beautiful colors? That's sort of how I felt. I was in a very strange place, and I wanted to be home more than anything.

The patients there were terrifying to me. Some literally thought there were purple people in the room. They talked to the walls, themselves... yelled a lot. One man had terretts but only said vulgar things when burping. I find it comical now, but at the time, I just couldn't believe I had to stay at this place. I didn't feel crazy. Just sad.

After breakfast, the birage of shrinks began. I was seen by one "mental health professional" after another. I told the same story. Said I just wanted to be home with my children. That I wouldn't harm myself. It was a big misunderstanding. When I finally was able to go to my "jail cell" aka my room, there was a knock at the door, and a sherriff delivering papers explaining the 24 hour mental hold. I read the papers, in which the doctor explained why he had put me on the hold. They were lies. I was pissed.

A lady from the county came to evaluate my mental state, and decided that I could go home. She had the hold lifted, and I was told, as well as Brandon, that it would only be a few more hours. Five hours later, the hold was finally lifted. I was given back my bra, had my vitals taken one more time, and was released.

I would love to say that everything is back to normal, but the fact of the matter is, that this post partum depression is really taking everything out of me. I don't wish it on anyone. I struggle to smile.... and can't understand why I'm not. I have so many beautiful things in my life, I shouldn't be upset. It's hard to really understand that it's not me, it's my hormones. I want to be back to "normal." Whatever normal is. I suffer panic attacks daily. I take "happy" pills everyday. I struggle everyday. But I'm doing better. Every little smile I can produce is a step in the right direction. And sharing this, to the blogging world, is helping too.

Melissa