Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

Ten Things of Thankful

  
It’s that time again to say hello, and tell you how thankful my week has been. I’ve had smiles, tears, laughter, love, and forgiveness. There’s also been blessings,  ephiphanies and the realization that I’m a force to be reckoned with. Let me tell you a story of my gratitude as part of Lizzi’s TTOT linkup
I’m thankful for a quiet Monday this week after we just got back from a fun but busy hockey tournament. I was feeling drained and a hot tub soak, chiropractor visit, and a home cooked meal were just what the Dr ordered. 

I’m thankful that I don’t take no for an answer in the medical community. My youngest son was scheduled for surgery on Tuesday and late Monday night he started running a fever out of the blue. He had a slight cough and was burning up I had no medicine left in the house so my husband had to bring some home after hockey practice. I phoned the hospital and alerted them of our situation. I was told to still bring him in and have him assessed the next day. 

I’m thankful for my husband bringing home Tylenol our poor little boy was so feverish and falling in and out of sleep. I put a cool cloth on his head while he slept in our bed all night. I was so afraid to leave him alone with his fever and sleep apnea. He radiated heat all night and his fever didn’t break and I sat on my bathroom floor crying and praying for him to be well again. 

I’m thankful when we did get to the hospital how thorough the nurses and Dr’s were with my son. Taking his blood pressure, checking his temperature, and listening to his heart. They had to cancel the MRI again with the fever of 101 Farenheit and postpone the surgery. I asked a lot of questions and asked the Dr to assess my son and explain to me what the risks were associated with administering an anesthetic in colleration with a fever. She was patient and felt sorry that she had to cancel since we were up at 5  am to get to the hospital and she was aware how much we have to prepare our son for these hospital visits. 

I’m thankful for a day to rest just cuddling with my sick little boy this was Wednesday and his fever was still high at 100 Farenheit. It had only come down a degree and he just laid in bed and slept most of the two days. Both my children and I run high fevers so it’s our “normal” but I still watch for signs of febrile seizures which can occur from infancy to the age of six. 

I’m thankful for day four (Thursday) and goodbye fever and hello happy boy! I still kept him home from preschool in case there was any residual germs floating around. It’s still unexplained what he was fighting off with no cold, flu, or infection symptoms possibly a virus.  We worked on fine motor and gross motor skills training and napped to conserve our energy for the weekend. 

I’m thankful for Friday TGIF it’s family movie night in our house and I was really looking forward to seeing Inside Out on Netflix. Wow that was the worth the wait what a lovely movie. That really helped touch on some anger and anxiety issues my oldest son was having. I love movies with a message that all we need is love, appreciation, and to communicate our needs. 

I’m thankful for catching up on work assignments, cuddles and movies with my son’s, and hockey Saturday. Although my son’s team lost 4-3 they put in an another valiant effort when they were missing one of their top scoring  offencemen. I must say every arena I go to has an assortment of foods on the menu. This one had the best chicken fingers and fries I’ve ever had for hockey food. 

I’m thankful for Sunday a day of rest and reflection. I read, got almost all my laundry put away, washed, dried, and folded. It feels  good to have two weekends in a row where I’m not my laundry’s prison bitch. 

I’m thankful for learning a lot about myself this week. I didn’t panic when my son got sick, I usually do with all the other neurological issues he has. He was a premature baby so I’m used to him catching whatever germs floating in the air. Yet he hadn’t ran a fever like that since he was two years old! I stayed calm, used my essential oils on him and myself, gave him medicine when he needed, and let him rest to strengthen his immune system. We will wait and see what happens with rescheduling his hospital procedures. I feel I’m better prepared and equipped to handle them then I was before. 

Thanks for stopping by today, goodnight my sweet readers. 😘

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Ten Things of Thankful

Ive been feeling so many emotions lately and I know that’s always coincided with a full moon on the horizon. Today I spent time reading and I looked out onto a sunny day and the thankfuls were bursting from my heart! I had company this weekend and it was the first time they had been to my house. It was so much fun to show them around and enjoy their company, as my kids jumped around like they were surgically attached to pogo sticks. Today I’m so happy to link up for TTOT and share in my bucket of thankfuls. ❤️

It’s these moments in time I’m so thankful for my family the one I created, and the one I was born into. I’ve been keeping busy reading and writing and I’m so thankful to be published for the first time at Lose Your Cape. I have the blessing to be in their upcoming book Never will I Ever as a contributor. So to read myself there and be introduced as such made my heart glow and tears spring to my eyes. 

I joined my theatre group again this season and we will be putting on the pantomime play Beauty and the Beast. I’m playing a singing chandelier as well as being in the chorus. I’m so thankful for my time with my cast and creativity spent on stage. Singing, dancing, and acting, are three of my greatest passions. So to be able to do all of them at once fills my love bucket to the brim!

I’m thankful that I’m expanding my social circle and enjoying time with my book club. We met today to discuss an urban fantasy novel we had read and as I sat and looked around the room of smiling, kind, very gifted, and knowledgeable people I realized I had found my tribe. I’m so excited that they chose one of the books I really wanted to read and that I will be hosting book club next month. 

There’s times in my life I’m not able to be two places at once so I’m so thankful for my husband for being so supportive. He took our kids to hockey so I was able to be social today and be where I was needed the most. He does this without any need for thank you’s, but I still show and tell him I’m appreciative. As he knows it’s important that I have the me time to feel fufilled and be a better me!

I’m thankful for the busy week I had with running my kids up and down the highway to school and extra curricular activities that I was able to have a day at home to rest and recharge. Being strong and fit are essential to my well being. I get such joy, vitality, and energy from my Beach Body workouts that I’m thankful that I’ve made them a priority in my daily life. I’ve completed my tenth fitness challenge in a Piyo group. This is a combination of Pilates and yoga poses and it makes me feel so much more stronger, dynamic and balanced in my hectic life. 

I’m thankful for the writing opportunities that have come my way on my blog, submissions, and my own book writing in progress. I’ve had the most fortunate experiences to meet and discuss with my new real life, and online friends and authors. I’m learning so much to help me be a success at honing this writing craft, that I’m so proud to be able to do and share with you all. 

I’m so thankful for all the things I’ve learned from my beloved Mama. She is never far from my thoughts and her influence in my life is so greatly appreciated. Her gifts are heaven sent and bestowed on me in little messages, signs in nature, and our special times in the dream world. She is who I write for knowing with her love and guidance of the spoken and written word, I know I’m making her proud one day and one story at a time. 💖

 

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Wearing my heart on my sleeve 

I’ve always been an emotional person the wear my heart on my sleeve kind of gal. There’s times where I think I need to have a thicker skin or put my heart away so I don’t get so easily hurt. It comes part and parcel with being empathic I feel people’s feelings, and I can “touch” people’s energy. I know when someone isn’t good for me or my loved ones and I can stay clear. 

I do my best to give people the benefit of the doubtand not judge a book by its cover. It will still happen to me and someone I love, that’s the way of the world unfortunately. Today was just like any other day before preschool filled with excitement an anticipation.  My son loves going to school and he wears and shows his feelings with his whole body. He was so excited to stomp up the stairs and count with me. He loves seeing his teachers and playing with his favourite toys there.  For the last month him and I have considered this a safe, fun, and educational place. Today though something happened and I’m still trying to process it. 

I have something brewing in my mind and my heart. If I don’t get it out I think I will combust! I was sure as I mulled it over to see how I could’ve handled it differently it would evolve into a blog post at some point. Today I was waiting with my son for preschool to start. There was a couple of families there and a little girl was staring at my son. He was standing there stomping as it’s his new thing that he does to feel comfortable in his environment, to gain sensory input. It’s an eclosed narrow hallway so his stomping is quite loud with its sound vibrations. 

I asked him to please quiet his feet inside and a classmate of his looked at him and announced to her Mom that he was crazy. The Mom (who did not acknowledge me besides with nervous laughter) said to another parent at that age crazy is good. I stood there stupefied, angry, and hurt for my son. I told him you’re awesome and don’t let anyone change that! My son isn’t crazy he’s very busy and full of kinetic energy and must move to learn. He has Sensory Processing Disorder #SPD and this how his eight senses react to sensory input. 

We all know we have our five basic senses of touch, taste, sight, hearing, sound, and smell. There’s many more types of senses but I’ll focus on the other three I was referring to:

  1. Propriocepetion- gives you the ability to know where your body is in space within your environment in relation to your other body parts. Think of the song Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. 
  2.  Equilibrioception- relates to our vestibular sense that’s found in the inner ear. This sensory sense is all about our ability to balance and have agility. 
  3. Interoception- relates to our body’s sensory system to know when we’re hungry, thirsty, or the urge to eliminate. 

My son is constantly seeking sensory input as all these senses build up inside his brain, body, and central nervous system and cause a traffic jam. Some of his senses are strong and some are weak and how he needs to seek out input looks different to everybody.

 This misguided observation we encountered didn’t bother my son at all. He doesn’t see himself any differently from other kids. He continued stomping while I stood there stewing in my furiousness for this hurtful remark. He made music with his feet, all be it loud music and made a little girl dance. Then that started a chain reaction and another classmate started twirling and he was still smiling and stomping. 

Although I saw his happiness I felt my heart crack for my child. He’s not different he’s different abled and is receiving therapy from his team so that he can function better in a world that can at times misunderstand and judge him. On Oct. 8 th it’s Sensory Processing Disorder Awareness please spread the love, awareness, and educate for SPD. 

   
  

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Open 

Trigger alert: If you’re suffering from any mental health issues pertaining to cutting or suicide. Proceed to read with caution. I discuss both in text openly. 

My life is an open book I’ve acted like I’ve had together but I really don’t. I’ve found out it takes a village to raise a child. And how lonely life can be when you don’t have a village. I’ve been open about not feeling like an adequate parent, good wife, or being a lousy friend. I have retreated into my world of words and writing, and have tried to make sense of the chaos before me. I’ve advocated for mine and my children’s mental health and have been told to hurry up and wait. Last week after an epic blow up between my oldest son and I, I put all my fears aside and phoned the mental office office. I was told to come down between the hours of 11 am to 3 pm and someone would have a meet and greet with me. 

This is how mental health is dealt with in my province. You’re set up to meet with someone who greets you and sees if you meet the criteria for obtaining services. So I went down there last Friday only to be told the Doctors aren’t seeing anymore walk ins today. That’s the worst lunch bag let down for the week. After talking my son into agreeing he does need help I leave empty handed. Today after battling with him to get up and go to school he decides not to go. I can’t deal with it after being up late myself with his brother having nightmares. I go back to bed, only to be woken up and blamed by my oldest for not going to school.

 I tell him just go eat and get dressed you’ll only be a little late. Then the fight begins that I failed him yet again, and he’s not walking into school late! I get a much anticipated call from my respite worker and I end up telling her everything that I didn’t get to tell her yesterday, with both of my children being home. My Captain (my oldest son, if you’re new to my blog) has been off for a week of school. This has been due to a teachers convention and after eight days of constant battling I NEED A BREAK. Yesterday I drive around in a new neighbourhood looking for a birthday party he was supposed to attend. I couldn’t find the location and my GPS was zero help.

 So I only had respite for a short amount of time as I had my youngest at home. I came home feeling defeated and tried to throw myself into busy ness of housekeeping so as to not start yet another arguement. There’s always something brewing on the horizon and then it came time to get ready for hockey practice. I asked my Captain to get his gear ready, while I quietly and quickly got his brother and I ready to go. We were set to leave when the comments started we’re going to be late, I wish Dad was here, I don’t want to go to hockey. I’ve been walking the thin parenting line between crazy and sane and I blew up and said get out and get your gear in the truck. He refused so I threw his bag on the lawn. Then I proceed to chase my youngest son down the block as he just wants to run away from all the noise. In the midst of my incessant parenting tantrum I lose my keys so I’m frantically looking for them.  

I find my back up set but it doesn’t allow me to lock my door with the key. Useless I know but key fobs are expensive to replace. So my crazy train is loaded up and we arrive at practice. Yes we’re five minutes late, and I just want to run away and hide somewhere. On the way home after practice I encounter a near accident as a racing truck passes five vehicles and is on coming into my lane!  I’ve got my music cranked and I’m singing Paradise by the Dashboard light. When the part of the song sung by the female lead Patti Russo comes on and says Stop right there, a voice inside my head screams the same. So I slow down and head towards the ditch just in time to see this truck fly past me and into the other lane. 

I’m literally shaking as I get home and start preparing dinner for my kids. I listen to them outside chatting while they gaze at the stars. Soon it’s bedtime and I settle in trying to process my day.  Thinking about everything crammed in my brain, it took me a long time to stop shaking and fall asleep last night. Hearing the alarm go off at 7 am after maybe four hours of sleep is like a jackhammer in my head. This morning when my son refused to go to school I said fine you don’t go to school then you go talk to a therapist. I arrive at the office only to be told they are full with walk ins. I don’t take this well at all, I complain you told me this last week and now you just opened up and your full? I have and will always be the squeaky wheel who gets the grease so I continue to triade. The receptionist sees I’m not leaving so she phones the office down the hallway to let them know I’m there.  

I walk over there with my shrieking sensory child who just wants to go home and explain I want to see someone. I’m once again told I can’t and to come back tomorrow. Well the quickest way to ignite the Irish fire inside of me is to tell me I can’t do something. This is unacceptable for urgent care should I be a cutter or slit my wrists would that get me seen faster? That line of questioning and behaviour got me seen faster than taking no for an answer. I have a therapist come to meet me who says I have a few minutes of her time. So I proceed to get my kids in the office while they play with Lego. So I tell her the quickest way to get help is to act crazy. She appears taken back at my honesty, so I spew on and say I’m an open book what do you want to know? I introduce her to my kids and proceed to tell her of the life we’re living.

 I’m told I’ve come to the right place, I’m very well versed, and educated. In another time and place had I known if I’d be walking this path to mental health, I would’ve studied to be an neurologist. Anything to do with the brain fascinates me, neurological disorders, psychiatric illness, all the labels and letters associated with mental illness.  I research about them all and I just want to know more. Being educated, articulate, well versed, helps me as an advocate for mine and my children’s mental health helps everyone. Now I walk a different journey to allowing this help to transform my family. From chaos to calm, from anger to happiness, from power struggles to peace. I’ve found the quickest way to get help is to stop acting like I have it altogether. So why do I tell you all this today? Well it’s simple I live my life like a open book, I can’t hide away from it anymore welcome to my book of life. Today I start to write a new chapter of hope, help, and resolution. I really think my guardian angel drinks if I was her I would too. Cheers to you Mom and thank you for saving our lives. ❤️

This has been my submission to Ash’s Sunday Confessions on http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please check out her story, the anonymous confessions, and all the other talent who link up. Thank you for following along on my journey. 💓

Today I’m linking up with http://silverliningmama.com for her conquer challenge for the month of February. 

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Letting go and Letting God

Today in Canada is #BeIl Lets Talk campaign to raise awareness for mental health. For every tweet with #BellLetsTalk Bell Canada will donate five cents to Clara’s big ride across the northern part of Canada. I’m a great supporter of this cause as it’s one close to my heart. I had a very amazing and fortunate experience to meet one of it’s spokeswoman last year Clara Hughes.

Last year she stopped into the town of Hope, BC while on her ride for Hope to share her message. Clara was on a mission to cycle across the provinces of Alberta and British Columbia to end the stigma associated with mental illness. This year she took a 110 day journey and 11,000 kilometers visiting 95 communities, and over 80 schools along the way.

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She has been the only athlete that had won gold in both summer (cycling) and winter (speed skating) in the Olympics. She has also struggled with her own mental health and she spoke of her journey with courage, kindness, and bravery. She spoke very candidly about herself and I hung on her every word that night. And when I had a chance to meet her and shake her hand I was literally in awe of her beautiful spirit, honesty, and sensational smile. The most recent quote I read of hers is my favorite.

“I cannot be the only one and I’m not the only one trying to make a difference,”
“We have a long way to go but the shift is starting to happen.”

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Today I’m going to share my personal journey with my mental health. I was a happy, curious, bright, and rather serious child. I was in family therapy at the age of twelve to deal with some family issues regarding my parents separation. I was to decide by then who I would choose to live with. I chose my Mom and I grew into a sullen, hell raising teenager who was sent to live with my Dad and step Mom By the age of fourteen, I was diagnosed with depression and insomnia.

I refused to take medicine for it and opted for eating healthier. I struggled with it right up to the age of sixteen. I still opted for no antidepressants and chose a healthier lifestyle. It was when I had graduated, moved out my house and gone to college that I realized I couldn’t keep my demons inside my mind silent any longer. I saw my family doctor and she diagnosed me with anxiety at the age of twenty. I got through my first semester of college and then I decided it was enough and returned to working.

The deadlines, going back and forth to my boyfriends while living on my own, the loneliness and stress got to me so I dropped out. Fast forward in time when I was married and expecting my first baby at the age of thirty-three and I was suffering with anxiety, stress, while working full time on a part time job. My saving grace was my yoga classes that I was teaching at the time. I could relax, meditate, and put myself and my clients first. My son was born via an emergency Caesarean section. About three months into Motherhood I developed Post Partum Depression. It was a difficult journey and I made it through only to have my Dad die two years later.

Grief, raising a toddler, and living far away from my family were the conditions that created a time bomb; that was ticking and waiting to explode! I went into therapy with a PPD support group for two years. I then became pregnant with my second child after trying to conceive for a year when my son was almost four. My Mom became very ill and died while I was eight months along. My world was sent into a tailspin and I prayed I would survive it. My baby was born at nine months, a month premature and spent two weeks in the NICU.

I realized then that no Mom was an island and I went on antidepressants for the first time and enjoyed a bubble of calm while raising my sons. I got through that grief period by attending a grief recovery program and really leaning on my family and friends. I’ve had insomnia since I was very young and gave birth to non sleepers. Eventually my oldest slept through the night at fifteen months, and by the time he was three he was sleeping through consistently. We had moved right after he turned five, and my baby was ten months old. This was our third move due to my husband’s career. 

Life in a hotel, no friends, lack of sleep, lots of stress with an incessant rain clouding my mind and heart; I sank into a deep depression. I found a doctor and she renewed my prescription and then diagnosed me with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). I was only a year into my grief journey with my Mom when we moved into the hotel, while attempting to sell our house in another town. At that time I had noticed developmental issues with my baby at eighteen months. He was meeting milestones albeit later than most. Although he did walk early bouncing between beds in the hotel room. So there were some bright moments for me to hang on to.

I took him to the Doctor and was given a pat answer he’s a busy boy who’s hardly sleeping, you’re sleep deprived here’s a handout. After being fed lip service and sent on my way, I talked to my health nurse and she directed me to resources to look into ideas to help while coping on team no sleep. There was my youngest son speech delayed, having trouble with pronunciation, and moving constantly. Climbing everything, high tolerance to pain, eating ten different foods, and hardly sleeping. Then I began the long six month journey to get him assessed at two and half years, while waiting to see a developmental pediatrician.

He saw Child development counselour, Occupational therapist, Speech and language pathologist, and finally the Development pediatrician. Then with the extensive list of concerns came up he was snoring, he had oral fixation issues, hypotonia of the lower jaw which caused him to stuff his food in his mouth till he choked! I still have to watch him closely when he’s eating. After a thorough assessment the doctor said there’s no doubt in my mind that he has sensory processing disorders with Sensory Modulation Disorder being the official diagnosis. At the time he said he didn’t see any signs of autism, but you may want to have him assessed as he gets older.

So I was relieved to finally have something to work with. I went home googled SPD and took the book Out of Sync Child-By Carol Kranowitz out of the library. I finally saw my child on every page and didn’t feel so alone or lack of a better word, like a crazy hypochondriac dreaming up diagnosis’s for my son. Another month went by while I spent late nights researching and listening to my son on a baby monitor. I was on a waiting list to see an ENT and he was diagnosed with a Obstructive sleep apnea. I’ve been on team no sleep for nine years. Between anxiety, post partum depression, grief, insomnia, and heart ache I’ll admit I’ve wanted to run away and hide.

Here I stand today working through the issues one day at a time; as I take a new mental health journey with my sons and keeping my own sanity intact. I don’t have all the answers but I’ve learned over the years what works and doesn’t work for me. By taking care of myself every chance I get is the key to my emotional stability. By keeping hydrated, eating healthy, taking my vitamins, exercising, and catching up on my missing increments of sleep I’ve started to feel more hopeful than hopeless.

I’ve also started to use essential oils to help my children and myself with our anxiety. As that was what got me off of my antidepressants two years ago. Last night I was anxious and couldn’t sleep, I felt wave after wave of emotional energy coming at me as I recently had a wonderful friend pass on. I held my son who was hurting with his restless legs syndrome, and massaged his feet and legs with an oil blend for pain and let him fall asleep on my chest.

I felt like my heart could just burst from my love, grief, worry, and pain. I thought of my beloved Mama who would say this too shall pass honey child. Don’t forget to smile through it, and take care of yourself too. Day by day I listen to her wisdoms chiming in my head and singing the song I wrote for her. I feel a little more closer to her, God and heaven. And I feel blessed as that’s a team that can help me through anything, by letting go and letting God deal with it.

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Living, Loving, and Surviving

There’s a story I’ve never told, well I’ve touched on it in previous blogs but I’ve never told the whole truth of it. I read a blog last night that hit me with glaring, beautiful, inspiration, and acceptance. This blog at http://heysweetlittlething.wordpress.com reached into my heart and held it in the palm of her hand. She wrote a beautiful, brave,poignant, story about her survival with Post Partum Depression (PPD).

It was liked she walked inside my head went into a filing cabinet and pulled out my memories. I had a beautiful pregnancy with my first child. I ate healthy, exercised, rested, worked retail, taught yoga, and rested some more. Everything was on schedule and I was due on Halloween. What you don’t know about me is I’m short, like 5″1 and by the time I got into my eighth month I was all baby. My Dr asked me how I was feeling and how I was eating. I was starting to slow down walk less, and waddle more. I could only eat small portions because there was just no room. I felt like a whale even though I was told I looked six months along then full term. This should’ve been my cue to my first guilt trip entering parenthood.

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Stock Photo found on Pic Collage

So there I was ready to pop and my baby came into the world two days later. He was a very healthy 7 lbs, 10 oz baby boy and I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on him. He was so long, 21 inches, lean and had a purple cone head. Oh wow he was beautiful to me, as I gazed into his eyes and held him in my loving embrace. He was delivered after eleven hours of labour via emergency Caesarean section. He was only in the NICU for a short amount of time until my IV came out the next day. He had a healthy cry and was very resistant to being swaddled, and had to have his hands and feet sticking out. I called him my baby burrito and little jack rabbit, because he had the biggest feet I’d ever seen on a baby. My dear husband and I took him home and became parents, even though we didn’t have a clue what we were doing. He didn’t sleep much and seemed to be clustered feeding all the time!

My Dr noticed at my six week post partum checkup I was struggling and said I could supplement him. I persevered as I wanted to breastfeed, so I survived on very little sleep, and whatever the nutrition had was gone in one feeding. I couldn’t put my baby down for ten minutes without him shrieking like he was dying. I knew of course he wasn’t, so I took to wearing him in my baby Bjorn carrier so I could get laundry and dishes done. He loved it with being so close to my heart, as I did. My husband had gone back to work after two weeks so I had started a routine to be that stay at home Mom. I started to notice things like how emotional I was and every cry would set me off into panic mode. I knew hormones played a huge role but something was off…

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I remember walking the floor up and down my hallway and around the upstairs and down again trying to get my son to stop crying. I loved him so much and he’d screw up his face and cry until he turned purple. I felt like a huge failure and my heart was breaking with each crying jag. And my sanity was shattering as I was surviving on vapors of sleep. I didn’t know what else to do so I did baby yoga to relief his gas, gave him medicine and rocked him till my body was numb and my ass was square. I then began to lock the doors and check the windows one by one and I was terrified someone was going to break in and kidnap my precious son.

At first I thought this was odd behavior but I rationalized and thought I was sleep deprived and that could make anyone connect with their inner psycho! Then I became possessive and hovered if anyone else held him and I just chalked it up to being a first time Mom. And that could make anyone protective of their first born. Then the day came when my son was three months old and my body was aching from one to many nights in the rocking chair. So I decided to take a bubble bath, I pulled back the curtain and saw this disgusting soap scum bath tub ring and I just lost it! I put my baby in his swing and scrubbed the ring and cried and scrubbed until my bath tub shone, and my hands were raw. I stepped into the tub letting the hot warm envelop and cleanse me from my sins. I loved my baby so much but I couldn’t take anymore sleepless nights. I laid in the tub bawling as my son watched me and rocked back and forth.

Later that evening I was doing my nightly shuffle around the house so my husband could be rested for work. Feed my baby, burp him, change him and try to put him to sleep. He would cry the minute I laid him down and the routine would start all over again. He would eat until I was completely drained, he was like a vampire and could never be full for more than forty-five minutes to an hour. I remember walking past the stairs and thinking if I just fell down them then I wouldn’t have to go through this torture! I never wanted to hurt my baby EVER, I just wanted all the insanity to stop and to finally rest.

I feel such shame and self loathing as I re-read that last sentence. It’s not something I’ve ever forgiven myself for and its been eight years! The next morning I was up when my husband went to work. I told him how I felt and what I was thinking last night. I told him I put our baby to bed in his crib and laid on the floor and cried until I was just an empty shell of a Mom. So my husband called my Uncle and he came over to stay with me so I could get some rest. I called my Dr that day but wasn’t able to get an appointment till the following week so I slept off and on all day, feeding my baby, changing him, till my husband came home. God bless my uncle for being there for me, he saved me that day. As I just wanted to walk out the door and walk away.

The next day my friend and her son’s came over and she took one look at me and said go to bed. And they looked after my baby and brought him to me to feed. She decided to call my husband and tell him I needed a night out and she was concerned about me. I told her how I felt and I couldn’t understand this craziness inside my head. So my husband came home from work, and I was showered and dressed up and ready for a night out. I felt like their was an ice pick plunging into my heart to leave my sweet boy. It had been three months and I never left the house without him. I’m the end I knew it was the best thing for both of us. As I pumped a lot that day, and I knew my friend was an amazing Mom, and my son was in the best of care.

We had a wonderful date night and I felt so relaxed and refreshed. Later that night my husband got up to the what he dubbed the “hockey glide walk” rock, rock, glide, glide, walk around the house. I fed the baby put him back to bed and we all fell asleep! It was miraculous moment in time, later that night I woke up in a panic because I thought my son was in our bed and I was going to suffocate him! I looked at my blankets and I could’ve sworn he was really there and I was going to hurt him. So I sprang out of bed crying turning on lights and looking for him. My husband woke up startled and went to check on our baby and there he was safe and sound, sleeping in his crib.

I called my best friend the next day that lived far away and she said I needed to get out of the house and be around people. She assured me it would be good for me and the baby. I could detect a hint of worry in her voice so I agreed. I went to health unit and there was a few Moms there I had been getting to know. The topic from the health nurse Erin was Postpartum and Beyond. After listening to the discussion and sharing a little of my experience I finally learned what was wrong with me. That day I swear I would’ve kissed Erin, as she saved my life. I had felt horrible for so long then I realized it was my brain chemistry and hormones wrecking havoc with me. After that I went to the library and took any and all books out pertaining to Post Partum Depression. I shared what I was learning with my husband and he could see I had purpose and drive again. Other than being the best Mom I could be for my son. Who I love so much my heart aches with that longing.

My son was growing well and I would lay there on my bed and stare up at the light and watch the fan go round and round. Those were the best times as he was quiet, content, and happy. I had test weighed him at the clinic and then fed him, and he was taking in two to three ounces so the health nurses weren’t concerned. I had kept a food journal since he was in the hospital. Keeping track of how much he ate, what his diapers were, and how long he fed. I had three journals and scraps of papers everywhere so I didn’t lose track. I was able to record it all and take it into my Dr. She said I was very thorough, loving, Mother and I was suffering from PPD. So she gave me the choice to accept medication, nutrition, and therapy. I chose nutrition and therapy and I started attending a support group close by my house.

I met up with the wonderful facilitator and my new friend A from Baby Talk at the health unit was there as well. We were given a manual to read and follow with homework sections. It was about putting ourselves first with rest, proper nutrition, hydration, and socialization. A and I began to bond our babies never slept, ate all the time, and we were walking Mombie’s before The Walking Dead was created as a television series. We spent a lot of time together and she was the one I prayed to God for to help me through my crisis, and gain some understanding. Every since her baby girl reached back and grabbed my son’s giant feet while we were feeding our babies, we were destined to meet.

She is my sister from another mister and we’ve seen each other through another child in our family’s and deaths in our family tree. She has been my rock through thick and thin and her and her family are my own. Even though we live far apart we’re never to far away with social media or a phone call. Our children still have a bond even though they go months without seeing one another. When they are together it’s like they never were apart. Much the same as for us Moms. We walked a very dark path together and have found the light and survived PPD. A. taught me that I’m human being, a wonderful Mom, a loving wife, and a survivor. I admire her courage, bravery, honesty, and the fact that when she wants to give up she admits it, then jumps right into the ring of life again. The journey we take with our children now is a neurological one and we stand by each other sides brave and true.

I owe my survival of Post Partum depression to her friendship, my husband’s unwavering love and support, and the help of my network of kindness from far away. I will agree with Hey Sweet Little Things blog that PPD and any mental health issue are taboo subjects by many in society. They need to be talked about and shared without shame or ridicule. My beloved Mama always said when times were tough life was always better with red lipstick, rouge, and dark sunglasses. And my sweet Gram said that if you had love, laughter, and a cup of tea you could get through anything. I’ve lived my life on these these very wise philosophies. So each day I live, learn, and forgive myself one day at a time.

This story has been written for my Blogging 101 assignment. Getting to know your neighbours by reading their blog and commenting. After commenting write about why it inspired you. Thank you for reading today, and please check out http://heysweetlittlething.wordpress.com. She has a wonderful blog and I’m so happy I found it to start my healing journey. 💓

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This beautiful art used with permission from Arna Baartz http://www.artofkundalini.com

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