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. ❤️

Dear Mom, the day I cried when my kettle died

It’s been a rough day with my youngest son who has the SPD (Sensory Processing Disoder) and impending evaluation for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). Transitions are very difficult for him so I made the mistake this morning by saying “let’s get dressed and go do something fun!” I didn’t use his PECS (Picture Example Communication), a visual tool I use so he can see that’s what we’re going to do. Life has been manageable so I just tried talking about it. Big mistake made there, let’s just add that to my ever growing list shall we?

He wouldn’t get dressed so I helped him. Then I got dressed while he undressed. So I sighed audibly and made breakfast. He refused to eat so I turned on the cartoons and went about my online to do list, running my Facebook page and co-admin four others. I carried on with my updates, checking messages, replying to comments, and I looked up to see my son eating. Well that’s one battle avoided. I decided I would get my breakfast and put on the kettle for tea.    

  
I ate, tidied up the kitchen, and went to make my tea. Then I realized my kettle died. All the stress of the morning came to a head and I cried. I burst into tears, and cried till my throat was raw and snot and tears were pouring down my face. I call that the ugly cry of no return. I lost track of how long I cried, my son found me on the floor huddled up into a ball in the fetal position. My Mom bought me that kettle, and it was last gift she ever gave me. It was a painful moment for me the day my kettle died. For a tea lover like me this is a very sad thing! It’s the last gift my Mom gave to me. And now she flies with the angels so I feel the insatiable desire to write about my pain….

  
 I felt so silly crying over a kettle but it’s the memories I have of her and that kettle. Drinking tea, laughing, loving, and sharing our hearts. I miss her so much, and microwave tea water sucks. I just want to sit with my Mom again and babble, banter, and sing like we used to. It doesn’t matter how old we get we just don’t stop needing our parents! Well I’m speaking for myself, but I’ll never forget the day my brother phoned me. He called my cell phone and asked me why I had answered it. I replied “it’s my phone, it rang, so I answered it.” Bitchtastic morning to you too! 

I may need to mention I’m not a morning person. He was trying to get ahold of my husband who he thought would have the phone. I knew my Mom was gone so I voiced it, and he said yes and assured me my husband was on his way home. What my brother didn’t know was that our Mom came to me in a dream. She reached for my hand and called me by the pet name she had for me, I reached back and woke up. Just in time to see her disappearing into the ethers as my phone rang. There I sat on the edge of my bed rubbing my very pregnant belly. I was eight months along, alone, and devastated. 

  
My husband arrived home and gathered me up in a hug while our oldest child slept through it all. I collapsed into my loves chest and soaked his shirt with my tears. I close my eyes now and see it all replaying like a movie in my head. How did I survive that trauma to my heart, psyche, and soul? I gave birth to my baby a month premature and had to keep living, loving, and raising my children. I don’t know if I survived it so to speak, I just didn’t have a choice. My family needed me to recover, to be me even if I was just a mere grieving shell of myself. As I get closer to Mother’s Day I try to remember that it’s important to put myself on my list of priorities. Taking back the me I once was is a gift to myself, and to my family. 

The only thing I would ask for this Mother’s Day would be the gift of time. Wrapped up in beautiful embossed paper I would find a journal and a beautiful pen to write my thoughts in. Recording those days that are so long with sensory meltdowns, those little conversations my son has with his toys about going to the zoo. Remembering how my oldest son used his problem solving skills, instead of screaming out his pain. A gift certificate to my favourite  restaurant where my husband and I could enjoy a date night with each other’s company. A note from a certified special needs caregiver who will stay and look after my children for a few hours of our lives.  

 

*Image found on Pinterest.*

 

 I would love a brand new kettle to make new memories with while sipping my tea and thinking of my Mom. Followed by a gift card to a gardening center to pick up a beautiful plant, soil, and Miracle Grow to plant in my old kettle. A wonderful idea shared by my heart sister friend The Brain. And lastly a box of Kleenex to dry my tears, blow my nose, and a bottle of wine to allow it all to sink in how very blessed I am. 

Happy Mother’s Day to you. ❤️

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Gamble

I’ve been living the life of a gambler. I’ve been running on empty for a long time thinking that I can continue this way. I’ve been going on whiffs of exhaustion and sleep deprivation. Reacting strongly with my emotions and easy trigger finger of blame. I have spent more time looking at a bottom of a wine bottle with only tears and rambling writings to show for it. I have spent nights in overwhelming valley and vacationed at heartbreak hotel. I’ve given my power away only to feel like a shell of my former self. 

I have decided enough is enough since my crazy train has run off the rails. I’m taking a gamble on myself and putting myself on my list of priorities. Self care will be my goal each and everyday. I will exercise to walk, run, move my body to feel good. I will get more rest, even if it’s not a lot of sleep. I will find a routine that works for me. I will have fun again as me not just Mom. Where I can laugh, love, find my hobbies that make me happy. I will be with others who share these common interests. I will begin to create again to draw, paint, scrapbook, and craft with my kids and on my own. Art is the way to my heart’s inspiration, love, and light. 

  
Eating well and maintaining a balanced diet of healthy foods will feed my body and nourish my mind. I will be kind to myself, by putting myself first, seeking guidance from my family and friends, and counselling from my therapist. I will get outside and explore my new town and surroundings. I will bask in the fresh air and the sunshine, and get my hands back in the dirt with my love of gardening. I will seek daily ways to relax, not just when the stress is choking me physically and emotionally. I will not gamble with my health and happiness again. I deserve to be fully, completely, safe and comfortable in my skin. 

 I will participate in my yoga practice, keeping mindful with my deep breathing and my temper. I will put my deepest thoughts that aren’t meant to be published in my journal. I will read to fill my mind with beautiful words, my heart with the longing to write my own words to inspire, and my soul with the love of making those chapters part of my being. And when the world is too much for me to handle I will sink into my loves arms and find my solace and believe in myself again. I vow to make my self care an integral part of me that it won’t be a chore, a list of demands to meet, it will be my gift to me. 

This has been my submission to More Than Cheese and Beer please check out her anonymous Sunday confessions and all the talent who link up. Thank you. ❤️

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

I light up Blue

  

This has been my submission to https://silverthreading.com for Writer Quotes Wednesday. Please check out her gift of words and all the other talent who link up. Thank you. 💙

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

Inspiration from Starbucks 

  

My inspiration from Starbucks

 

This has been my submission to https://silverthreading.com. It’s amazing what some free time and a cup of chai will do! Please check out her wonderfulness and all the other talent who link up. Thank you.  💓

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Daily life in my corner of Canada

I’m excited to take part in the Opionated Man from Harsh Reality’s challenge to showcase where I live.  I’m a Canadian who stumbled across his blog from another fellow talented Canadian writer. My corner of the world is a very interesting one and I’m happy to share it with you today. I was born and raised in the beautiful Rocky Mountains of British Columbia Canada. 

Where I grew up in the East Kootneays of BC

Where I lived before in the Fraser Valley in BC
I’ve lived in many different places throughout the province. When I was sixteen I wanted to explore city life once so I moved to Ontario. I lived there for a year and was desperate to get back to my beloved mountains. Due to my husband’s career we move a lot. This is our fourth transfer and our children’s third. Now we currently reside in our new province of Alberta. I honestly didn’t know what to expect when we first moved here, as it’s very flat compared to what I’m used to. In my last town in the Fraser Valley of BC I had mountains in my back yard. Now I reside where I can see clouds stretched out for miles.

Where I live now in Alberta, Canada

When I take walks in my neighbourhood I’m treated to the most amazing gifts of God’s creation. I see brilliant colors woven into the most beautiful sunsets and sunrises. It’s my favourite time of day to take in all this natural beauty. I’ve discovered without mountains I can really see each extraordinary colour in these natural paintings. 

When I take my son to hockey practice we have a 30 minute drive out to the country. It’s my favourite time of the week as my kids and are rocking out to the tunes playing. A little Fleetwood Mac, Three Dog Night, and Motley Crüe. My kids grew up with nursery rhymes and knowing the classics as well. The scenery on our drive has been so breathtaking I’ve had to pull over to take pictures. I’ve never seen such spectactcular cloud porn in all my life!


Our favorite thing to do is take a walk along the river. My husband and I teach our son’s the fine art of skipping stones. The peace and tranquility of listening to the flowing water, feeling the crispness in the air, and taking in the sheer beauty of our surroundings is a wonderful gift. 



It can get cold really fast too, where it will go from +6 to -16 overnight. It’s been cold enough since November to build an outdoor rink in our backyard. And our first welcome to Alberta blizzard happened in September! There’s also this amazing phenomenon that occurs called a chinook. It’s when a wave of of warm current air mixes with cold air and the temperature can change from -16 to +16 in a matter of hours. It’s the most spectacular weather pattern I’ve ever witnessed! And now that the temperatures dropped I look forward to the next one. 


And the hockey road trips I’ve taken throughout my province have exposed me to some amazing landscapes. I’ve enjoyed each one, and have been grateful to get to know little towns I wouldn’t have known otherwise. 



And I can’t leave out the views I have from my deck that move me me to tears and cause me to write poetry. It’s a gift to live here and I’m glad that I’ve been able to connect to nature and not feel so lost and alone in this new adventure. And just like the picture says this is my own little slice of heaven.

 

Thank you for taking this scenic tour with me. And thank you to Jason at Harsh Reality for suggesting this wonderful idea. 🌸

23 Comments »

Pull

I find I’m struggling with myself lately. I’m feeling this pull to my past. Where I felt really happy I had a great group of friends I saw daily. I didn’t feel lonely or shut in like I do now. I had my respite worker recently say I needed people. I know she was right, but that didn’t make me like less of a loser. I feel so pulled to my old life where I knew who I could call, count on, and have my back. Now I try to navigate a new town and new people feeling so unsure of myself. I’ve never had trouble making friends but I don’t know this time around I do.

I need to pull myself up by the bootstraps and just keep trying. Having children with special needs doesn’t always open the door to having friendships. I’m afraid of taking my son to a playgroup and he reacts to too much noise and stimulus. Or if he’s sensory seeking and he gets to aggressive with another child. The times I’ve gone I’ve sat on the edge of my seat drinking my tea, and waiting and watching. I find the pull of my friendships and lamenting that I haven’t found a group. I have a few friends and they lead very busy lives.

So I connect with them when it works with their schedules. I don’t complain, I don’t demand, but I do cry silently at night when everyone else is asleep. With that pull from my heart I have to decide if I’m going to stay stuck in my past, or push myself forward with my future. I’ve been attending a support group and its been helping. I’m hoping to connect and get to know some parents there as we walk the same path with our children. I find more and more each day I have to resist that pull and push myself towards my future.

With that push I’m hoping to gain some more confidence in myself. I have a dilemma with my online life colliding with my reality. Online I’m admired, respected, appreciated, and yes even loved. I’m told I’m beautiful, brilliant, talented, and yes even funny. In my reality I struggle with being social. I have children with special needs. I have to keep them calm, regulated, and comfortable in their surroundings. If I don’t there’s hell to pay. Not to many know my struggles. And honestly I don’t ask for pity just a kind word, an invitation, a smile or a hug.

I don’t ask to impose on people’s lives but maybe just maybe I shouldn’t have blogged about this. Because honestly reading it back makes me sound quite pathetic. I have hid in my online world that makes me feel whole. Today I chose to be brave and put it out here because this is, what is is. My online world meeting my reality, the whole ugly, beautiful, poignant truth of it. Written by me a lonely, heartbroken soul just looking for a friend to understand. I have to pull myself out of my self imposed depression. I’m starting with baby steps and going to attend a playgroup geared towards children with special needs.

I’ve been in denial that it’s what my son needed but no Mom is an island. And the potty training blues have gotten me down and I’ve been stuck inside the house for too long. So time to pull up my big girl sexy panties and get this social thing on the go. No one is an island we all need inhabitants to create some sort of bond, a family.

This has been my submission to Ash’s Sunday confession from http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Check out her brilliance, anonymous confessions, and all the other talent that link up. Thank you for reading my blog today.

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A Mother’s guilt

I’m at my wits end with my oldest son. He said he had a sore throat so I let him stay home from school. The rules are rest, rehydrate, and relax. He had helped clean up the basement so I allowed him a movie with his little brother. I’m upstairs cleaning, laundry, dishes and I go to check on him and he’s downstairs playing video games. I walk into the room and he’s pretending to be sleeping!!!! I told him get up and go to bed. He starts to argue that he was having quiet time because his little brother didn’t want to watch a movie.

So I sent him to bed and I continued folding laundry. Then I can hear him out of his room. I’m ready to lose it I’ve sent him to bed twice and he’s come back out. First he was playing hockey with the Mad dog so I said get to bed! He says I’m hungry; then get your food and get to bed!!!! So he says forget it I’ll just starve you don’t care! So then he’s there for 10 minutes and he comes back out again to ask his brother to go downstairs to watch a movie. Get the $@@% to bed now I bellow!!!!

What is wrong with my kid? He won’t listen, he doesn’t respect me, then he tells me he’s getting yelled at school by five people. And one is supposedly his teacher. Well I’ll be addressing this and I will be sending him to school tomorrow because if I don’t I might just duct tape his mouth shut!!!!!
I don’t know where I went wrong we used to be so close. Then I was so sick and sad when I was pregnant with his brother. I carry a lot guilt because my Mom died then I had my baby five weeks later.

Due to the premature birth he had to stay in the hospitals NICU. When I was finally realized after five days, I still went back and forth to the hospital to care for my baby. This is when I feel the disconnect happened. My son was grieving the loss of my Mom, me not being there, and then a little brother who was sick. What had happened in his little world was too much so he turned to his Dad as his saviour and protector. That’s when it all changed between us.

His attitude changed towards me and jealously set in because I was always with my baby. Even though he adored his baby brother. It didn’t matter how much that new love was blossoming and growing, he had lost a part of his Mom. I had to be strong, stoic, and a rock for my children. Meanwhile I was dying and falling apart into little broken, jagged pieces. My heart was shattered I lost my one and only one and I felt like a part of me had died too! Not something a four year boy could understand with his precious heart. So I put my grief on hold to deal with his.

I thought I was doing the right thing as I struggled with intense grief of my own, sleep deprivation, and adjusting to an anti depressant. I didn’t want to be that parent that checked out when my kids needed me the most. It was bound to happen, as I just felt like I was a medicated brain and a body barely able to function. I honestly don’t know how I got through that difficult time. Grief recovery, family, friends, my husband and the love of my sons all played a role.

Life within that little bubble of calm helped me exist. As my body and my brain began to connect as I adjusted to my medication. But my little boy changed as his brother grew up. He got more abrasive with me, his angry tantrums became longer, and I went into research mode. If I don’t understand something I will read until I do. I read books, listened to lectures, attending parenting workshops. In order to understand what had happened to my son. I wish I had looked more into neurology than maybe I could see the early signs of his brain changing.

The ADHD behaviours, dyspraxia, and Sensory Integration disorder were there. He was just so much like me sensitive with an explosive temper that I just saw pain, grief, and jealously. This is when the switch happened, and when I had to fill out recent questionnaires about these behaviours it was hard to hold back the tears. I cried for that little boy who lost his Grandma, Mom, and gained a baby brother. I cried for my lack of understanding, the turmoil, and stress that cyclones around me.

And most of all I cried for that broken relationship between a Mother and her first born. I pray I can repair it before it’s too late and I lose his love and kindness forever. That’s a Mother’s guilt always wearing my heart on the outside of my body. So here I am today parenting through the pain and loving myself and my family with everything I have. Praying for that change to patch my oldest son’s heart back together. That’s Motherhood both beautiful with the moments of cherished gazes and spoken words of I love you. And crushing defeat and frustrating when those words turn to you don’t care, you don’t love me. I put my eyes on the prize and slowly, but carefully walk that tightrope of love and hate for myself.

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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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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

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This has been my submission to http://silverthreading.com. Please check out her creative gift and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 💓

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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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