I don’t think I’ll ever forget the feeling when I walked out of the hospital. A new start. A little more hope in my heart. I wasn’t whole or healed, but I at least had a promise of a happier future to cling to. That first night home with homemade food & my pajamas with drawstrings & a cup of tea? Heaven. That night, I stood by Harrison’s crib as he slept & swore I would never take hearing those baby snores for granted ever again.
& I haven’t.
The first few weeks after the hospital were filled with family. I was ordered to take leave from work, which was protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act (for those who are wondering how I took maternity leave, hospital leave, & vacation all in one year). Since I still wasn’t allowed to be alone with Harrison, we suited up each morning & road in with Nate, where he would drop us off at my parents house. & with my family by my side, I slowly began taking over Harrison’s care again. I learned how to breathe deeply through the squawks of a diaper change so that my skin didn’t feel on fire. I learned how to get down on the floor & play with him without fearing dark thoughts. & at night, Nate would sit at my feet while I rocked Harrison, re-learning how to simply be with my family.
It wasn’t easy. There was a lot of frustration & tears & moments where I had to walk out of the room. There were pep talks & long walks & come-to-Jesus chats. (The one thing that I never want to convey is that medicine did it all – because it didn’t. Medicine has given me the edge on taking my life back, but I have worked damn hard & if you’re suffering, you’re going to have to work hard, too. But you can do it.)
But the hardest thing I had to do during that leave? Break up with my first psychiatrist.
When I was first admitted to the hospital for postpartum depression, my old psychiatrist tried to label me as bipolar. We were shocked – I had NEVER exuded behavior like this prior to having a baby. “So,” I said. “You’re telling me that having a baby can make someone bipolar?” She said no. The entire thing did not match up. Nate went home that night & spent the entire evening researching bipolar disorder, talking to doctors & family. He came up with an entire case as to why the diagnosis made no sense. & then he stood by me in the hospital room & we argued our case.
My new doctor (who specializes in postpartum mood disorders) & agreed with us completely & the questionable diagnosis was tossed out the window. I would have been fine with a bipolar diagnosis if I felt it fit – but the wrong diagnosis would lead to the wrong treatment & therefore me not getting better. I am forever thankful to Nate for being my advocate when I had no resources – for putting his foot down when I was too sick to care what happened, & demanding the correct diagnosis for the correct treatment.
When I left the hospital, they scheduled a follow-up appointment with my old psychiatrist. During the conversation, she asked if they had begun a lithium treatment. When I said no, she replied, “I guess I’m okay with that for now.” & I knew it was over. She still was not on-board with the treatment I was comfortable receiving. I hung up, terrified of what I had to do. I had built a relationship with this psychiatrist. & now? She was breaking my trust in her ability to take care of me.
On a leap of faith, I called the doctor in charge of my care in the hospital one afternoon. Maybe, just maybe, she saw outpatients? The phone clicked & her voice said, “Hello?” I stuttered that I expected to get a receptionist, not the doctor. & in an answered prayer, she grabbed her planner & scheduled me in. I almost cried. (I cried a lot those days) I called my old psychiatrist with sweat beads breaking out on my forehead.
& I totally copped out.
I left the break-up message on her voicemail. ”Hey, this is Blair. & I’m sorry, but I am going to have to cancel our appointment. Yeah…ummmm….it’s just…I’m sorry. I have to do this.” ::click::
The point to all of this? Other than the fact I’m a chickenshit that leaves passive aggressive voicemails? Is that YOU are your best advocate. You are responsible for your health & your treatment. Understand what a diagnosis means. Understand the medications you’re taking & ask questions – side effects? how long will you be on it? what is the purpose of it? If something feels wrong to you & your family, speak up. & if your psychiatrist isn’t a good fit for you? There are more fish in that sea. Find someone that you trust. Not just to keep your thoughts, but to take care of you. I finally found her & that’s where my healing truly began.
p.s. I’m still learning my way through this. I’m not whole or healed yet. But I did learn this massively important lesson through my treatment & I think it is definitely worth passing on.
Amen, dear. Amen. You know when something doesn’t feel right for you and it’s up to you to find a way to make it right. That’s all I’ll really say about that.
First, I cried. Your story amazes me. The astounding love that your family has carried you through that tough time which is absolutely phenomenal.
And I almost want to steal that last paragraph for my blog. Almost.
that first part of you describing coming home and of nate sitting at your feet while you rocked harrison brought tears to my eyes. he seems like such an amazing husband.
and that’s great that you and nate challenged the 1st psychiatrist and disproved her. i hate standing up to people, but it was for your sanity’s sake, and it had to be done!
I couldn’t agree more! You are the only one that knows when something is not right for you! Trusting your doctor is so so important..Good luck!
As I was reading, I got all nervous thinking about you calling her (I’m a voicemail girl too) and then my next thought was, “OMG WHAT IF SHE READS BLAIRS’ BLOG?”
:/ Obviously I need to grow a backbone.
Anyway, I’m so glad you switched when it was right for you. I’m sure that when you needed her, she was the best for that time in your struggle with PPD, but it sounds like it was starting to head another direction.
There is no way you are bi-polar, I’ve known people who are and well, there is just no way.
((hugs))
Your comments about being your own health care advocate? That should start long before you’re handed a baby and start going bat-shit crazy. Hopefully everyone knows that by now. that if at any point in your life you feel your Dr is providing a disservice, you have the right to fire them.
I had to fire my labor and delivery Dr while I was in labor, so yeah… let’s all picture that scene!
As for all this depression talk, I’m going to stand straight up and say that I don’t get it and it all confuses me.
After Lennox I thought I had PPD ( as I had confided in you in some private emails) and looking back now and having gotten through it, I did have some post partum anxiety, but never depression. Post partum frustration perhaps, but never depression.
I guess what I don’t understand the most (dun dun dun, here comes the pitchforks) is what makes PPD different than PTSD other than it’s one more disease that basically labels us women as mentally unstable? I wish they’d call it PTSD so people would have a little more respect for it instead of brushing it off as a “lady problem”
No, I totally see what you’re saying. But I think for me, the PPD was FAR different than the depression I had before in college. It was similar in the sense that I had very little desire to get out of bed, shower, eat, zero motivation. The PPD through in the added bonus of detachment from my son (but not my husband or anyone else in my life), horrible intrusive thoughts, anxiety, etc. It was this entire different beast.
So yeah, I’d say that PPD deserves it’s own classification from “regular” depression. Especially when you add in hormones & all the other factors that are involved in the healing with a new baby & major life change that may not be there with “regular” depression.
& PTSD is post traumatic stress disorder…not depression.
oh and I forgot to say, you werent bi-polar but you were manic, and that kind of mania is very parallel to bi-polar disorder. High of highs. low of lows. Only yours was triggered by a specific event and dramatic shift in hormones where bi-polar disorder is not a result of a specific event and well, a million other differences, but I digress…
Yep, exactly.
My official diagnosis is severe Postpartum Depression with a manic episode that led to a psychotic event.
It’s quite a mouthful!
Blair – you are so right about being your own advocate! It can be so hard to do, since doctors are “professionals” and thus know everything, right? But if you can’t advocate for yourself, which happens too often, who better than your spouse? For better or for worse!
My mom had to be her own advocate when dealing with Chronic Fatigue and fibromyalgia. This is such a great reminder that YOU are your best advocate for your health, and you are so lucky that your hubby knows you as well as he does.
I broke up with my first therapist about 6 months after my miscarriage (got a little tired of hearing that I should be celebrating “nature’s way of getting rid of something imperfect” rather than grieving my lost child). I also totally chickened out and sent her an e-mail that I was “going in another direction” with my therapy (how completely lame of me!) I am so happy that I switched therapists, though. You just know when something’s not clicking. Good for you for doing what you had to do.
You made me cry. I don’t suffer from PPD (obvs), but I admire you for sharing your story and I know you are helping others.
YES!!! I tell people this all the time. Be your own advocate in everything! It drives me crazy when people say things like, “Well, the doctor should have to keep my shot record on their computer so that they know which shots I need when.” No! Keep your own records and know yourself (and your children) so you can be the expert.
Thanks again for telling your story, Blair.
Hey girl,
You are so brave! I know it takes a lot of strength to say this isn’t a good fit, this Dr is not getting it. We expect them to have all the answers but I think we always need to trust our gut, and fight to get a Dr who can help us heal. way to go lady! : )
I, respectfully, have to disagree with you. Terminating your relationship with your doctor through a voicemail does not make you a “chicken shit”. When I read what you had done, I was impressed with how brave you were, how strong you could be, and how you were able to take charge of both yourself and your family while in the process of living a nightmare. “Chicken shit” or “passive aggressive” would have been having you mother call, or not calling at all. You should be proud of yourself. You’re no chicken shit!
thanks, Gwen
Now, why do you always gotta make me cry when I’m at work??? I need to learn to wait until AFTER work to head to heirtoblair!
You? You’re amazing. And it’s great that you were able to see that your doctor wasn’t right for you and the treatment wasn’t right because some people (like me) might just let them do it and trust it because “they’re a doctor.”
You also don’t owe your old doctor an in-person break-up, so no worries, not chicken shit at all!
So glad you ended up with the best care and treatment FOR YOU, we can all see the difference. Good luck continuing the journey to being whole!
Your husband sounds absolutely amazing. You are truly blessed with a wonderful family. And I am right there with you, learning to not take those little things for granted. It’s amazing what one can see in these precious little babies when we’re finally able to open our eyes!
I just want to say that this is SO true, but it’s also applicable to anyone in your care – like Harrison. Or, in my case, my MIL. I had to care for her as she began the descent into Alzheimer’s/dementia…and no one wanted to see it. I kept a journal (which was not popular with a couple of my sisters-in-law) and I finally got the support from my DH and his youngest sister to have her official see a psych and be diagnosed. But it was a loooong road. The important thing to remember is that doctor’s are human. They sometimes think they aren’t. And a lot of people WILL NOT question them, but sometimes you just know they’re wrong.
I, for one, am grateful that you had Nate to do this for you. My kudos to him. Go give him a big squeeze for me (Yeah, I know, I had to twist your arm, didn’t I?)
You are lucky to have a husband who knows you so well and was able to fight and stand up for you when you couldn’t. You are completely right that you have to be your own advocate. My father has been battling cancer for 5 years now. Just recently our local cancer institute basically sent him home “to make arrangements”. My father has been looking into cancer institutes across the country now.
You are very very brave that you called and “broke up” with your therapist. You have to do what is best for you. Even if you left her a voice mail you were still the one that called and left the message. Be proud of your self.
I always feel compelled to write to you just inspiring you are. I don’t suffer from PPD, but I know what a wonderful thing you’re doing by sharing your story for others. (Of course, therapeutic for you as well!) Your triumphs, struggles, and beautiful writing makes us all keep coming back. I think you’re one bad ass chick.
Your story is so powerful and I applaud you for sharing it. Mental health is still such a taboo subject and thus far too many people go untreated, wait to long to get treated, ect. I think by you sharing what you have gone through and that you were able to come out the other side is so inspiring and putting a face to PPD.
I know you have lots of support here and lots of people telling you how brave you are (and I totally agree). But I just wanted to add that you really are a phenomal person. You are using your ability to reach hundred and hundreds of people to share a hard story, and hopefully help them with whatever difficulty time they are going through. All I can say is thank you.
I couldn’t agree with you more. Your life is litterally in their hands. Litterally.
If you are not comfortable with the care you’re recieving then it is absolutely a must to change that. I’ve seen 3 neurosurgeons before I settled on one…best decision of my life.
This is such an important topic.
Just wanted to let you know that you are a very strong person. I am a long time reader, and could not imagine having the strength you have had through all of this. I know God only gives us what we can handle.
Here’s the weird thing; I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after getting PPD with my second baby. In some ways it fit, but in others, it didn’t fit.
I came to find out that in some cases, bipolar disorder can be triggered by PPD.
Now I’m wondering if that isn’t true, either.
Wow. It never ends. The confusion and wondering.
Oh God. I can’t tell you how many times I have broken up with therapists. It’s never an easy call to make. But sometimes it honestly isn’t the right fit.
I have been through countless pychologists and pychiatrists in the 17 years I’ve been dealing with bipolar disorder. It’s hell trying to get it right. And the point is, you don’t always. There’s no way you could.
It’s fascinating you mention BP disorder in this post. I was hoping to God you didn’t say something bad about it since this is my good ole’ diagnosis. And I lurve you like a fat kid loves cake. And I didn’t want to have to unfollow you. At one point I did think you sounded like me! And I knew you had mentioned suffering from a bit of depression in college. BP can be hard to diagnosis. I know. I lived with the wrong diagnosis for years. Until FINALLY my therapist saw a clear cut pattern of behaviors and correctly diagnosed me. At first I was angry at the world. I was ashamed. Bipolar comes with such a terribly unfair stigma in society. One that I wasn’t sure I could deal with. But after a few months and the correct medications I was a different person. The real me for the first time in years. And I knew that I needed to stand up for mental illness and create awareness.
Just like you’re standing up for PPD!
I have read your posts over the months and thought, damn, that’s so unfair that she had to go through that. Ironic because now? Now it’s my turn. I “came out” about my PPD on my blog today
such an important post! i learned the hard way about self advocacy. all the feelings of failure and guilt and shame, etc played a part in my ppd crash. Much of it could have been avoided if i knew how to advocate for myself. Anyways, it’s such a long story… but all that to say i am now passionate about being my own advocate and believing i deserve the best care.
thanks for sharing your story, yet again!
This hit home HARD today. I wish the meds did it all. Some days (like today) I feel the depression coming back in. I lose all focus. this is horrible in my job (teaching) because it means the students lose focus and then I get frustrated and then the anxiety starts creeping in and…well, you know.
Today I was mad at myself for having “bad” day. I took my meds, I should be fine?
But that is only part of it. That is so just part.
Reading this actually made me feel better. It reminded me of how far I (we!!!) have come, and how it’s ALWAYS a battle.
And I am thankful for you. I am thankful you are there with just the right words and that you are becoming whole again for your family.
I’m really proud of you for breaking up with your old psychiatrist, because you WERE your own advocate and you knew it was what needed to be done!
just wanted to say i’m so thrilled to hear that you’re doing so much better! you’re had a terribly difficult ordeal & this post particularly tugged at my heartstrings when reading about you not being able to be alone with harrison. that must have been so hard for you! i seriously commend you for being brave and taking the steps you knew were needed to recover and reclaim caring for your beautiful son. i imagine there’s a lot of people in your position who would have been to stubborn/scared to seek that kind of help – you should be NOTHING but proud of yourself! i just know that your family must be so proud seeing you grabbing your ppd by the balls and showing who the boss is! blair is the boss! whooot whooot! ;D
oh, and i loved your friend gwen’s comment. couldn’t agree more – the way you’re advocating your recovery in no way resembles chicken shit. again: BE PROUD, mama!
xoxoxo!
It IS hard work!! The meds are a tool but YOU have to use that tool, and it’s tough to do. I’m so glad you made it through.
Hi Blair,
I’m not suggesting that bipolar disorder is the right diagnosis for you, but it’s very common for it to be triggered by pregnancy and birth. Some very high percentage of women with the disorder are diagnosed after giving birth. It’s also common for those suffering bipolar disorder to react to SSRIs the way you did–with a manic episode.
Again, I don’t say that to argue with you about your treatment (and I’m glad you have found something working for you!), just to offer that I can see where your first therapist may have been coming from.
I cried reading this. Thank you. Just…THANK YOU!
I don’t care how you dumped her, just glad you did.
You’re better than I am, I just didn’t show up to my appointment one day. & then never went back.
Of course, I still get the bills in the mail and I am paying them off slowly… sigh.
I am happy to hear you are doing much better!
I remember breaking up with my first psychiatrist – I was a teenager with former eating disorder issues that were known to my psychiatrist, and in treating my depression he prescribed something that caused me to gain 20 pounds in 6 weeks. When I brought this up, in tears, in existential crisis, he calmly said, “Oh, I guess I could have put you on the other pill that does the same thing but doesn’t cause any weight gain.”
YOU THINK?
That was an easy decision, but still hard to do. It’s hard to tell people, “I don’t trust your professional judgment.” But sometimes it must be done!
Awesome post, mama. Self-advocacy is so difficult, especially in the area of mental health. After all, if you’re not sure your brain is “right,” how can you be equipped to make important decisions about your care? I’m glad you trusted your instincts, switched doctors and got better. And thank goodness for that amazing husband of yours.
Thank you for sharing this story.