TED Talks and parental guilt...

Time flies…

13 months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy…and I unknowingly got on this strange, crazy, incredible roller coaster of parenthood.

I mean, sure, people tell you it’s insanity…but you never realize it until it’s your turn. And once you’ve started it, there’s absolutely no looking back.

Not that I’d want to.

It’s terrifying-scary-amazing-wonderful-hilarious-trying-miraculous-and...all of the above.

And it teaches you just how much you truly have to rely on God for every breath.

I’ve also realized that nothing induces more guilt on you, than parenthood. I mean, seriously—every complaint that someone has about something you have, or every brag that you hear about something you don’t or couldn’t do—every little thing causes you to step back and say to yourself, “Oh, man…I don’t do it like that. Is there something wrong? Am I doing it wrong? AM I GOING TO TRAUMATIZE HIM FOR LIFE?!?!?!?”

I heard on a TED Talk that when you yell and scream at a baby/toddler, that it affects the part of the brain that controls impulses, that later on, leads them to turn into serial killers. And then I read that if you ignore your child (i.e., time-out), that it has the same effect on their brain as if you had physically abused them. So now, I’m like, freaking out about yelling at David in front of the baby—does it bother JD? I have to stop yelling—I mean, I’m a total yeller who was raised by yellers. It’s all we know; David is NOT generally a yeller, but I’ve kind of turned him into one…AM I TURNING MY SON INTO A SERIAL KILLER?!?!?!?!?!

I know, it sounds preposterous. But these are the paranoid ramblings of MEEEEE! And these are the things I worry about in the middle of the night…

And of course, there’s no yelling “at” JD at this point. There is, however, immediate separation if he does something like grab my glasses, while he’s sitting on my lap (with a firm “NO!”). There is also a firm “NO!” when he’s into something he’s not supposed to be, and the occasional tap on the hand (for the dangerous stuff), along with a quick pick-him-up-and-move-him. Distraction is the best form of correction, as discipline in any form is kind of pointless.

I’m a stress-yeller, and I have to stop it…I have to remove many words from my vocabulary, as he’s begun to repeat things (i.e., “Ball!” “Duck!”).  If he can say those things, I’m guessing he will learn to repeat several choice words that sound similar…and I need Jesus!!! So, language and tone are a definite work in progress, and trying to tell certain people in our lives to begin that process in THEIR lives is not going well…Ugh.

So, JD is standing now…he’s working on molars…he’s repeating words, and he fully understands his first complete sentence: “What’s this?”  Yep—he gets it! He even used it, in context, in front of the Parents As Teachers lady, who was totally impressed. Yep—he’s a genius, but not a freak-show-kind-of-genius. He’s a let’s-encourage-this-but-stay-normal kind of genius. He doesn’t have any food allergies that we know of (praise GOD!) and he eats anything he can get his hands on. We took our time introducing “regular” foods, and are just now starting to give him actual meals instead of pureed food. He’s independent; he’s able to spot something, get it, focus on it and play with it, and get into whatever he wants. I love how he surveys a room, picks someone or something, stares them down, and eventually, rewards them with a smile. He’s quite popular wherever he goes, and I find myself becoming increasingly protective.  

Can I just keep him in a bubble? This world is overwhelming…endless stories of abuse, kidnapping, drugs—I barely want to step outside, as an adult. I understand my parents’ protectiveness so much more; thank God I was raised in a world that didn’t have the Internet! We’re ALREADY talking about computer privacy issues, and he’s not even walking yet!!!! JD is fascinated with our phones and tablets, even though we don’t let him play with them; they make toys that hold your phone in them, and interact with apps!! ALREADY!!

There are little boys in my neighborhood that play football in the backyard.

That’s what I want…

Play in the backyard; ignore the TV. Make friends in person, not on Facebook. Play baseball, football, soccer…play with the dog or go fishing with Auntie.

The world has presented a platter of fears that my brain just wants to feast on…drugs, violence, crime…How do I prevent any of it from touching my son? He’s the joy of my heart; I can’t even look at his picture without smiling. I want to preserve his innocence forever…but reality is bigger than me.

But it’s not bigger than God.

Raising a child, I’m learning, takes more trust in God than I ever thought…I have to believe that the One Who gave him to us, will take care of him…that He will teach us how to raise him in a Godly way, in a truthful, holy way…I have to trust that our motives and our directions are anchored firmly in His Word and in His plan. Faith outweighs fear, and I believe that…I believe that He holds us, regardless of where we are in life: brand-new and shiny, or old codgers waving canes…

The roller-coaster of parenthood has one consistent track throughout the twists and turns: Jesus. He doesn’t change or fade; He doesn’t leave us hanging. Both Rescuer and Challenger, He sends us out to walk on the ocean…to live in a restless, turbulent world…and He asks us to simply believe He will save us.

My son belongs to Him…my husband belongs to Him…And, because I believe Him, I belong to Him.

The world tells me that I’m messing everything up…it constantly undermines my decisions or tells me I’m not good enough. Jesus takes my pennies of faith, and He moves mountains with them. He takes my mustard seeds, and He uses them to somehow implant faith and hope into my son. He takes my prayers…my tiny, quick, conversations with Him…and He invests it into my marriage, my home, and my family.

Thirteen months ago, out of the very center of my being, came the fruition of years of prayer, tears, and love…He gives us what we need to raise this child for Him. The world can have their research, their lectures, and their materials. I have the Word of God, and it tells me that He’s got this.

That’s all I need to know…

Adventures in Postpartum...The Continuation

I used to think that antidepressants were the devil. I was one of those judgmental, self-righteous bigots who think that all hormonal and psychological imbalances are simply the effects of people who need to suck it up, and get over themselves.

I thought that all mental “issues” were demonic  attacks, and that if we prayed hard enough, we would be healed…or that if we ate only the right foods, or if we drank enough water, or if we ________, that it would all go away.

Granted, I’m anything but a paragon of health. Obviously, I’m fat. It’s okay—“fat” is not a bad word, just an ugly word. I don’t like it, but I did this to myself, so I have to accept it. I’m fat. But since my mid-twenties, I’ve been very good about getting regular chiropractic adjustments (I started that when I was 15), drinking lots of water (like, a gallon a day—seriously), and I’ve always liked my vegetables (except for lima beans and asparagus). But, I’m not morbidly obese…I barely touch soda…and though I have a major sweet tooth, I don’t live on chocolate (but I could!).  I am, in a word, an average American woman.

I’m also a Christian, which comes with its own bag of stones.

After Hannah’s death, the depression was crippling. Not only was I mourning the loss of my baby girl; I was dealing with the post-partum hormonal imbalances from hell. Anti-depressants were no longer an option. I had to go on them, or risk suicide.

I felt terrible.

I just couldn’t seem to break free from the pit that I was in, no matter how hard I prayed, or how hard I tried. Nothing made me feel any better; it was like walking in concrete. The ADs certainly didn’t “fix” anything; they simply made me able to function. It was then that I really began to respect the need for some people (certainly not all—I firmly believe that as Americans, we are HEAVILY over-medicated) to get a little chemical balance in their lives.

When you’re chemically screwed up, you can’t pray for healing. You can’t make cognitive choices. All you can see is darkness, and it’s so oppressive…Getting the medication into your system, and getting your little neurotransmitters functioning properly again, is the kick-in-the-pants that your body needs to refocus, and to get spiritually focused again. I think that sometimes, we’re so chemically twisted that we have to have that.

That being said, I believe that some medications are only for a time…that after a point, we have to take responsibility and wean ourselves off of them. We have to find a way to be balanced without them. When ADs were first researched, they were never intended for long-term usage. They weren’t even tested for it. I’m not sure how the research has changed, but I know that for me, spending years on a drug like that is not something I want to do.  

6 months after Hannah passed away (in 2007), I weaned myself off of the anti-depressants. In 2008, I wound up having to go back on them for a short time. I still don’t really understand what happened, but after I got off of them again that year, I haven’t had to be on anything since.

I’ve been pretty open about the shock of having to go back on the ADs after this pregnancy. I truly didn’t see postpartum depression coming, even though I had all of the markers (previous postpartum, first child after a loss, etc). I was really disappointed, and ashamed. Why would I feel shame?

I mean, I’d just spent over a month in the hospital. I’d been on a massive amount of medication, including major antibiotics at delivery (antibiotics strip your gut; you actually make serotonin in both the intestines and the brain = Bad gut, bad serotonin levels = depression). I was exhausted beyond belief; I had not gotten a full, uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep since 12/30/12 (part of that is motherhood in general; part of that was from my “incarceration”).  My hormone levels were shot!  So, on the day that I decided I was going to drive my car off of a cliff, I figured I’d better call the doctor.

I had an almost immediate response to Zoloft; I felt better, so quickly! It didn’t change my personality; it just allowed me to function. I could pray! I could be happy! I felt like I could enjoy motherhood! It was great!

I have been able to take care of my son, and do my job, and be nice to my husband. It’s not all because of some little pill…It’s because some little pill got the chemical ball rolling in my brain, to allow me to be me, instead of some crazy, hormonal, mentally exhausted, suicidal lunatic. It’s a good thing.

 I have learned to appreciate psychological medications. When  given with the patient’s best interests in mind, they can do a lot for people. For my friends who are bipolar, they’re a miracle. It’s not always a physical or a spiritual deficiency, people—just because your body requires a medication, doesn’t make you a bad person! It doesn’t make YOU deficient! It just means there is an imbalance that needs to be leveled out. I think that Christians in particular are far too quick to throw stones at people who need chemical assistance. That’s not fair, and it’s not Godly.

No one would chide me for taking my heart medication.

I have a problem with my heart. For some reason, it doesn’t work like it should. It doesn’t  mean that it won’t eventually be healed. It might actually, at some point, be considered “normal.” But for now, no amount of healthy food that I eat will fix it. It’s structural.

I can pray my little eyeballs out; it doesn’t mean that it will be fixed. It doesn’t mean that I’m not spiritual enough, if God decides not to heal it.

It doesn’t mean that I’m a bad person.

There are things that I can do, to help—I can eat better foods (bye, bacon!). I can go walking (I am). I can lose weight (not going so well). These are the things I can be responsible for.

But that little white pill that I take twice a day? I’m dependent on it right now. It’s strengthening my heart.

Why do we, as Christians, look down on someone for taking a little pill that strengthens their physical mind?

The antidepressants have not been kind to my body. Yes, they’ve been great for my mind…but I’ve gained 14 pounds in the past 2 months. NOT GOOD. So, based on that, and based on some stomach issues I’ve been struggling with, I went to my doctor the other day (PCP). Her suggestion was that I try a different AD. When I looked it up (because the thought of trying a new AD just scares me to death!!!!), I couldn’t believe the side effects. Sure, you lose weight…but one woman stood over her daughter’s crib so the “aliens wouldn’t take her!” SERIOUSLY?!?!?  That stuff is supposed to level out your brain, not make you nuts!

So, based on that, and based on the side effects of the AD I’m currently taking (weight gain, arrhythmias, etc), I’ve made the decision to start weaning off of the AD all together.

It’s a scary decision, and one that means I’ll be watched like a hawk by both my husband and my mother (“That’s it! You’re going back on your crazy meds!!!”). If it doesn’t work, and I’m not able to get off of them just yet, that’s fine—I’d rather be fat and sane, then skinny and looking for aliens.  

But really, I’d like to be off of all of it. I think that getting my stomach regulated (I'm doing a strong probiotic combo to rebuild after the antibiotics) will be a huge help.

Everything for a season, right?  Even chemically-initiated “sanity?”

Wish me luck…and smaller jeans…

PS--for the record, I'm weaning off of the AD very slowly, and with my MDs full knowledge. If you're on any kind of anti-depressant, you absolutely cannot go off of it without a doctor's supervision!!!!  Just my PSA...