Visitors...

There are many ways I know God knows every detail of my life. As time goes on, I gain more stories and a better understanding of just how involved He is. Today was fast Sunday.  There were 2 baby blessings scheduled. There were lots of visitors. When I came in and found Endrit, the row in front of him were talking to the people in the row behind him. The people on both rows were visitors. Dorian was having a very symptomatic spectrum day with flappy hands, penguin step walking, constant movement, etc. He was wanting to flip over my legs into the aisle before the first announcement so I told him, "It is way too early in the meeting for you to be this antsy." To which the whole row in front of us turned around chuckling. I apologized and informed them of his spectrum tendencies. Come to find out 1 lady has been a special educator for 20 years and her daughter was in the process of getting licenced as a special educator this year. The best part was when the older lady told me , "This is a church for families. If they can't handle that, they can go elsewhere." I almost started crying then and there. It is truly the little things in life. The small kindnesses. The looks of Christlike love instead of judgement. My life has changed so much since becoming a mother. I have seen what Christlike love looks like in practice. With the challenges of Marsi's birth, heart issues, and Endrit being unemployed post-PhD, and now Dorian's tendancies, I am finding myself constantly coming closer to Heavenly Father. His love and care are so apparent in these simple instances. So, to the wonderful visitors in the chapel with me today, Thank you for being amazing Christians.

Someone asked me to...

I might start writing again.  Maybe.  I was asked to share about postpartum depression.  That period of my life was really hard and I like to help others with my experiences so I decided to write.
This is completely unedited and probably a total muddled mess, but welcome to my mind.

Autism, pregnancy loss, birth trauma, and postpartum depression.

I am a woman on the autism spectrum diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome before it was incorporated into the autism spectrum.  This has a large influence why my path into motherhood was truly a traumatic time. 

My husband and I had been married for 5 years before we decided to try for a child.  Growing up, I cannot recall a time where I didn’t want to become a mother.  I also wanted to be a geologist, chemist, teacher, etc. but MOM was always on the list.  I had my geology/teaching degree and was teaching middle school.  Life was amazing.  My parents were moving away from my “hometown” which made me cry with happiness.  Where I grew up was horrible for my whole family.  Then I had 4 miscarriages in a row.  My start to motherhood was entirely pain and heartbreak.  I was depressed.  My favorite school administrator died and I attended her funeral amid a miscarriage.  One of my 8^th grade students fell pregnant and another one fatally shot another student accidentally.  My body/brain/hormones were in turmoil.  While trying to save a pregnancy, I had to get off of all my mood stabilizing medications that help me with the sensitivities I have from not being neurotypical.  Then I was able to keep a pregnancy. It was amazing. I was happy to be so sick.  The doctor, not so much because I lost almost 30 pounds because of hyperemesis.  But, I was able to stay pregnant.  My students saw me run to the sink to puke.  They saw me endlessly trying to sip at ginger ale.  I wasn’t on my medications so stress caused pre-term labor and I was placed on bed rest right at the end of the school year.  We bought a Netflix subscription that summer. 

When the time came to give birth to my daughter, it was stress.  My parents were half a world away when we thought I would have her.  Then she didn’t come…and didn’t come.  Pre-term labor ended in an overdue baby.  My parents had to postpone their move (that they had already postponed for a month due to my baby girl coming). I felt like I was letting everyone down.  The day finally arrived when she would come. Transfer from a free-standing birth center to the hospital became a necessity. She was stuck.  She wouldn’t turn.  She wouldn’t descend.  I had been in active labor for 24 hours. The hospital gave me the epidural and let me rest for a couple of hours while they tried to turn her; to no avail.  After 3 hours of constant pushing she was finally born via forceps. 9 pounds, 19 inches, wrong position, but she was out. 

Because of the relatively traumatic entrance into this world, she was taken to the nursery for testing.  She was large and I didn’t have the healthiest of pregnancies.  They wanted to make sure that she was okay.  She spiked a fever and ended up being in the hospital for 6 days on antibiotics.  She had a spinal tap and at least 10 IVs.  I was thrust head first into this crazy part of motherhood I never expected to go through.  I had my mind prepared for something vastly different than what was placed before me.  Through pure adrenaline I got through those first days. 

When I got home, my mom stayed with us for a week.  When the adrenaline and oxytocin crashed, I crashed.  Waking up and caring for my baby was relatively easy.  I was having great success breastfeeding.  But around 1 pm the thought of bathing, feeding and getting her ready for bed pushed me into melt down mode.  I didn’t want to have to go to sleep.  What if something happened to her while she was sleeping and I lost her. Having lost 5 pregnancies, (1 before officially trying) this was a huge fear.  I cried. A lot.  My mom got my daughter into the stroller and we took long walks in the park thinking fresh air and exercise might help.  I had been cooped up in the hospital for a week.  We tried that for 2 days.  When it happened again my mom asked if I thought it was more than just stress and if it might be postpartum depression.  Having a knowledge that I am prone to anxiety and depression through my autistic tendencies, as well as being off my medication for a year, I knew I needed to see a doctor.

My faith in the medical system had failed me in many ways with the birth of my daughter. But, when I called them and said the words “for postpartum depression” They got me into a doctor within an hour.  I was literally trying to get clothes on to get out the door as I was on the phone.  They took it extremely seriously which was wonderful.  The nurse was amazing and the doctor listened to everything and talking with her about my experiences with past medication as well as my desire to breastfeed we settled on a medication proved to work with me that wasn’t bad for breastfeeding. 

It was NOT an instant fix.  It was NOT a total fix.  My parents were still moving. My poor mother had to leave after a week at my house (2 days after starting medication). She was fearful for me but grateful my husband would be there. That was another depression contribution.  My husband had graduated with his PhD in Chemistry 3 days before the birth and was unemployed and job hunting across the country.  I knew we would be moving “soon” as well.  I still had a major fear of taking my daughter to the doctor thinking they might find another thing wrong with her and we would again be stuck in the hospital.  I still cried at 1 pm every day for a month.  There were days that the only thing I washed was my nipple for her to eat safely. 

Depression and anxiety has been my constant companion for most of my life.  Change has never been easy.  I have had full on panic attacks because the orientation of chairs in a classroom got changed from the way they had always been.  How much more of a change is having a child that depends on you for everything?  I can’t even express the dichotomy of the pure joy of finally fulfilling my deepest desire to have a child paired with the complete and absolute fear of that child depending on you for everything when you are trying to figure out how to brush your own teeth and hair.  It fell onto my husband to make sure I was taken care of while I tried to care for our child. 

The postpartum depression hit a new facet when we decided that I needed to go back to work.  My husband had always wanted to be the breadwinner.  He wanted to get his PhD, get a post-doctoral position and provide for his family.  I always wanted to be a stay at home mother for at least a few years.  Our dreams were yet again shattered.  He got to experience being a stay at home dad.  I got to experience what it meant to be a working/breastfeeding mother.  As a substitute teacher, it is hard to figure out where to pump and then store your fresh milk.  I still remember crying during a high school prep period I had while pumping in a car shop.  I was teaching a shop class for a day.  Our situation made the depression come back in a vengeance. Sometimes the depression is hormonal, sometimes it is situational.  Sometimes it is a horrible mixture of everything.  As the hormones situated themselves and the medication was in full potency situational depression got better. 

The fact that I had a job that I had to get up, get ready, go, and do was good for me.  It at least meant my hair and teeth were brushed.  It wasn’t easy.  My husband almost got on medication himself because of the depression he fell into being unemployed.   It eventually got better.  I would say the depression lasted a good 6 months after she was born.

We were able to get through a heart defect/potential congestive heart failure/surgery/post op with our daughter.  My fears of losing her almost happened.  I got a call for a permanent teaching position offer as I was sitting next to my 4-month-old in the ICU.

Honestly, if I had not listened to my mother to go to the doctor 3 days after coming home, I don’t know how I would have handled everything.  My natural tendencies of anxiety and depression in addition to situational anxiety and hormonal crashes are a recipe for disaster.  No matter what, becoming a mother is one of the biggest changes you can go through in your life. 

I was lucky. I had my life partner by my side the entire time.  I didn’t have to be home alone after a week or less. I had a mother that encouraged me to go to the doctor for medications.  I had the knowledge of what medications worked for me.  I had knowledge of strategies to get through life changes with my position on the autism spectrum.  These put together ensured my successful trek through what was my experience of postpartum depression.

The mole revisited...

So, I have melanoma. That is all I know. I am not sharing this tidbit on my Facebook or instagram accounts until I have more information. I go into the doctor on Monday and hopefully gain a better insight into the stage it is at and what the treatment will entail and what further tests I need to do. Life can sure throw you curveballs!

I fell off the wagon...

And I fell off HARD.  I was doing so well...and then life happened.  Stressful, crazy life happened.  I started drinking mountain dew again. Diet to begin with.  Then it was regular. Then it was a liter of regular.  Yesterday, I didn't because I didn't go to the store.  But, I did practically only eat sugar.  I have been having way too much sugar these days.  Yesterday was the start of a couple of other things so last night, I decided enough was enough.  I NEED to get healthy.  I want to be there for my kids and my grandkids in many, many years.  I am spending way too much money on crap.  That needs to stop.  So, today is a new day.  I am back on the wagon.  I know it won't be easy.  I am a sugar addict.  I crave all the candy.  Endrit is even awesome and brings me candy and brownies and other things.  So, I will go back to going to the store one time a week and buying the fresh foods for the week.  I refuse to buy mountain dew no matter how bad of a headache I get while I am getting off of that addiction.  I have decided that I might pay myself a minimal amount of money each day I reach my goals.  Then when I get healthier, I can use that to buy some clothes or something.  Pray for me.  Kicking sugar and caffeine addictions are crazy hard...but I can do it.  I will do it.

smartphoneless

Just as I thought I was going to have my smartphone back, the proxy charger stopped working...whatever dude...it is so frustrating.

But, we decided that we would just get 2 batteries and a wall charger and call it good swapping out batteries.   We only have to make it to the end of May so it isn't that bad.  Technology and I have not been having a good relationship since about December.  Hopefully in May, it will get better.

Mole

For a LLLLOOOOONNNNNGGGGG time I have had this mole.  It has been getting bigger, more asymmetrical and then started getting bumpy.  So, I finally bit the bullet and got the dang thing removed.  It was really easy.  We talked about farming while my doctor sliced and diced.  I will find out in the next 10 days or so if we have to take out more if it is cancerous.  It was about the size of a dime so it took 8 stitches to close the hole.  I accidentally stretched and broke the skin around the stitches that night because I knelt down to change Dorian's diaper.  I have to be very careful now so I don't end up popping the stitches.  Good riddance dumb mole.

Dorian naps...

We decided to get a proximity charge pad instead of waiting until May to get a new phone.  I uploaded 42 new pictures on Instagram this afternoon.

But, today Dorian had a great nap!  He fell asleep on his own and stayed asleep for 1 hour and 20 minutes!  That is HUGE.  I hope that I will be able to have him sleep on his own like that more often.  He has always been such a crappy sleeper. It made me super happy that he was able to go to sleep on his own today.

So, if you want to see more pictures, follow my IG.