The Battle Continues

On May 3, 2000 I gave birth to a baby girl, Alyssa. Again to her dad and I she was perfect in every way and we loved her so much. She was born with her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck and we weren't allowed to hold her until the next day as she had to be under and oxygen vent. Then we got to be with her and she had a bath and we were amazed at how beautiful she was! My biggest fear was the change...I do not like change, it makes me very nervous! Matthew had just turned 3 at this time. He had "imaginary pets" which we thought was so cute. When I took Alyssa in for her 1 week check up at the hospital, we were leaving and he said, "wait, my animals are coming." He liked his baby sister, but wasn't sure about having to share 'HIS' time with Alyssa. We were so blessed to have family around though and he got plenty of attention as well.

By the time I went back to see my doctor for my check up, I was still feeling extremely tired. I wasn't as anxious as when Matthew was born, I just always felt tired. This was just brushed off as being a new mom. When Alyssa was 3 months old I went back to school. I graduated in 2002 with a Medical Assisting diploma. By the year 2000 my mother-in-law was no longer working and I felt comfortable with her watching the kids. I knew that they were safe. I got good grades in school, kept up, but still felt extremely tired. After school I started working at a clinic here in Brookings. I enjoyed my job; however I had a boss who was very stressful. You never knew what type of mood he was going to be in when you arrived at work. I started seeing a psychologist and she recommended a change in medication and a change in jobs if possible. Well, the change in jobs was almost impossible due to the benefits that I received. Besides, I still liked what I did at work. I got to do both office work and work with patients face to face. In fact one of the patients now lives in an apartment just down the hall from my grandma D's. She has a hug for me everytime she sees me and is always so appreciative of the way I treated her and her husband. So I kept on working at my job. I also began seeing another doctor at my clinic and she recommended seeing a psychiatrist who came to our clinic.

I began seeing him and at first things went well. He prescribed a new drug, which I couldn't even tell you what it was because I have been through so many. Again, the drug took the edge off and I felt "ok". However, he was very arrogant and cocky. He would cancel appointments and then began doing teleconference appointments instead of regular appointments. This did not help me at all. I was stressed, down, and still so tired! I went to see the psychologist who I had seen before, I really liked her, but she was in Sioux Falls. I did make a point of seeing her every other week for a while, but then when the cold weather and snow rolled around, I quit seeing her as it was becoming increasingly hard to make it to Sioux Falls. I was also told by my OB/GYN that if I didn't lose weight that some other woman would be watching my kids graduate from high school and getting married, etc. This scared me! I lost weight. I lost about 50 pounds on the South Beach diet. You would think this would make me very happy. It did, I loved being able to have fun shopping for myself again, but it still was not the cure that I was hoping for. Then one day I called my OB/GYN to tell her I was doing really bad on the medicine she had prescribed, Wellbutrin. I was getting to the point that I couldn't function and then, she never called me back or stopped to see me at work. I was devastated. So I saw my new family doctor (the other had moved away) and he recommended I see the psychiatrist who came to our clinic, yep, that same arrogant, cocky guy! After changing meds and some sessions, I started to feel better, but still not as good as I would have liked to be.


To be continued....

Mandy

From The Beginning

Please keep in mind that this is my personal blog and I request that if you are reading this and would like to post a comment that you do not berate the feelings you will read about on this blog. Many women suffer from depression and too often, too many women are berated when they finally decide to "come out of the closet" and tell someone they are depressed. Depression is not a "get over it" illness and no woman (or man) would want to live like this. It could probably be one of the most horrible illnesses in the world...to the woman (or man) who has it, especially major depression, it is.

Thirteen years and 2 months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Craig (my husband) and I named him Matthew. He was perfect in everyway. From the very beginning I loved my new baby boy. While Craig was home on paternity leave, things were great. I felt comfortable and everything seemed so perfect. However, from the time my husband went back to work, my anxiety began. I was afraid to be alone with my baby because I was afraid I would do something wrong, that I would hurt him, unintentionally in some way. One night I called Craig at work. I was scared, my heart was racing and the left side of my face had gone numb. I was so scared that I had had a stroke. Craig rushed home from work and we loaded up Matthew and Craig drove me to the hospital. Craig's mom and dad met us there to help with Matthew. While in the emergency room it was determined that I had a panic attack and I was scheduled to see my regular physician. After asking some questions, my doctor determined that I was suffering from post partum depression and I was started on 10 mg of Paxil. This took the edge off, but I was still extremely tired, a little down, but not so anxious. At my 8 week check up, my doctor asked how I was doing. I told her how I was feeling and so my dose of Paxil was increase to 20 mg.
My mother-in-law would help out when she could and when Craig worked nights, I would often times stay at my mom and dad's house. When I went back to work (I helped my grandma H. out with her daycare) things got somewhat better. I was able to be with him and feel comfortable around him, but I was SO very tired, all the time. Everytime the kids were napping, I would fall asleep in the chair.
For about five years I lived with the feeling of being "ok". I mean I felt better than I did, but not good. I guess I thought that was all I was going to get and that I would have to just live with being "ok".
Little did I know that this was just the beginning of my battle with depression.
Mandy