Spokesman Review

 I had the really wonderful opportunity of sharing my story and my Christmas Socks for Hope project with the The Spokesman-Review.  I feel so humbled to be able to watch this project grow and bless more lives each year (this year we will be able to donate to the adult behavioral health units at Kootenai Hospital and Inland Northwest Behavioral Health, as well as the crisis center, behavioral health detox unit, and the ER for patients waiting for a bed to open up to be admitted to the inpatient unit at Kootenai Hospital, plus two friends are taking on this project in their own area to spread more love).  I'm thankful for the support, both the generous donations and effort given, that allow all of this to happen.  I'm even thankful for the difficult circumstances that led to having an awareness of the people in this unit of the hospital on Christmas, the scratchy hospital socks that could be replaced with warm and comfortable socks, and the messages that might be able to uplift and help someone in a time of great need.  

Here is the link to the article if you want to read it: https://www.spokesman.com/stories/2023/dec/07/after-her-own-experience-being-hospitalized-post-f/?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR06SSGJxOZugrblZGkXvnWbOprBxLXusPd35eosRDr45358UGJ2GksTJaI_aem_ARJ3rUZhG-gEPrpotEfQ_p2AszdVdMhE5o3SeC2LW3qCD_7Lbhr70vNR5D6-ALi9LijlLaKz3XHgknIOvizXAReK

Better Days Come

 Two years ago, our family was stuck in a living nightmare. I was in the hospital for the second time in two months and it really seemed like it was only an unrealistic, unattainable dream that I would be okay again. That there was a world ahead of me, waiting for me, that would not involve the seemingly unbearable amount of anxiety and depression that I was experiencing at that time. Seeing this memory pop up brings so many thoughts and feelings. 

First and foremost, there's the feeling of absolute gratitude for Kyle who didn't give up on me, who loved me and sustained me through that horrific time, and who had the faith to believe in and vision to see happier, more peaceful times to come. I literally could not have gotten through that time without him. He was the only one who had the ability to bring any bit of calm to my tumultuous heart.

Then, there's the overwhelming feeling of gratitude for how far we've come together. I never knew life could be this good again. There are definitely still ups and downs. There's still a lot of trauma that I'm working through in counseling and sometimes it throws me to the ground. But overall, life is good. I will admit that I miss the old me before all of this. Sometimes my heart feels the agonizing pain and I desperately wish I could go back to that pre-2016, pre-severe depression version of myself who seemed to have so much potential and who loved myself for who I was at that time. But I'm slowly learning how to accept and love this new version of myself too. The version that is so much more compassionate and understanding than I ever could have been before. The person who has overcome mountains and can help others overcome mountains too. 

But mostly, there's the desire to tell every single person who is currently living in a nightmare, who wonders if their dark night has an end and the light will come again, that YES, there are much better days ahead. We went through absolute hell for 4 months, but somehow we've come out on top and can see breathtaking views from where we are now. Oh how I wish I could hug every broken heart and share my hope for the future. My life is far from how I imagined it would be, and there are so many things that feel like no one can understand or that feel far from "normal," but this life is beautiful because it shattered but now it's slowly being put back together.

Rainbows

 I've had all of these thoughts swirling around in my mind for such a long time and haven't known how to articulate them, but I have to get them out, so I'll try my best. These thoughts have brought such waves of emotion, this lump in my throat feeling that I could cry so easily, but I haven't wanted to because I know it won't change anything about our situation.

It started with Garrett's birthday. For some reason, that day brought this unexpected, overwhelming reminder that we will only ever have two kids, that he will forever be my youngest. I never thought it would be this way, and it often feels like it was never supposed to be this way.

Then, I had this vivid dream one night that I had just had a baby. I was so happy in the dream. I can't put into words what that happiness felt like. I couldn't wait to show my sweet, perfect baby to anyone and everyone around me. I knew they would be so surprised and excited with me. Everything felt right and complete in my world. It all seemed so tangibly real. And then I woke up, and it felt like my heart shattered into a million pieces again. I couldn't help but cry on and off all day long.

Next, it was National Rainbow Baby Day. I couldn't help but think of how I will never get that rainbow baby I've dreamed of. I remembered how the day after finding out our baby (#3) no longer had a heartbeat, a beautiful rainbow filled the sky. It felt like this sign of hope that our rainbow would come. The next three weeks brought six more rainbows. I had never seen so many in my life so close together. On the day I had surgery to remove that perfect lifeless baby, another rainbow filled the sky. There it was. Another promise, I thought, that our rainbow was coming. I just had to be patient and wait. A while later, I went through the excruciating process of going off my depression medication to try to have that one last baby to complete our family. After three months, I found out I was pregnant, but no sooner had I found out I was pregnant when we lost that baby too. And yet, as I took a step outside to get some fresh air that day, another rainbow appeared. It seemed so clear. Our rainbow would come. It had to. I couldn't comprehend my life going on any other way. I decided I would wait a while and then try one more time and it would work. I was certain. But unfortunately, my whole world came crashing down before then. After being in the hospital three times in four months for depression and anxiety, it became abundantly clear and we were very strongly directed not to have any more babies. My risk of developing postpartum psychosis was very high given my history and the fact that my depression is caused by a hormone problem, so it simply wasn't going to be a possibility to grow our family anymore.

Today the memory popped up on my Facebook that on this day in 2019, I had that surgery and saw that beautiful rainbow. 

I've thought so much about rainbows in the last while and have come to the conclusion that maybe all the rainbows I saw weren't meant to be promises or bring hope for another baby, although they seemed that way at the time. Maybe instead, they were God's way of telling me that He was there through my heartache. That I wasn't alone. That better days were sure to come, and they have.

Now when I see a rainbow, I mostly feel peace. Peace that I have two sweet, beautiful kids who bless my life beyond measure. Peace that everything happens for some reason, even if that reason is still very unclear to me. Peace that everything will still be okay, even if it gets bad again for a time. Peace that everything that feels unfair in this life will someday be made okay. Peace that this isn't my fault. And peace that it's okay to grieve and feel heartache when it comes, because that's all part of the healing process.

Postpartum Psychosis

 Lately, I've told myself that I want a fresh start at life. I don't want to be the "depressed person" anymore. A few weeks ago, I vowed to myself that I would no longer talk or write about depression publicly, because I don't want anyone to think of that as part of my identity. This resolution has come with a price. I've felt conflicted because I don't want anyone to think they are alone in struggling with mental health and haven't known how to maintain that connection for people while also attempting to change how I am perceived. But then this happened, and I cannot bear to be silent about it, even though my writing about depression will still be much less frequent than in the past. 

My heart is completely shredded reading articles about Lindsay Clancy, a woman who recently killed her 3 children and then attempted suicide but survived. She had postpartum psychosis. She was treated inpatient for a while and then was being treated outpatient 5 days a week while her husband worked from home as to not leave her alone. He left for a short time to pick up dinner for the family one evening and came home to his entire family being gone in an instant. It's gut wrenching to say the least. He has since spoken out saying that he has forgiven her and he has attempted to reassure anyone who didn't know her that she was so loving and cared deeply about her kids, but there was something very wrong inside her brain that took over her ability to think anywhere close to rationally. She was trying so hard to overcome this, but ultimately the very real chemical imbalance in her brain won. At some point she is going to wake up from where she's at mentally now and will have to come to terms with what she did. She will live the rest of her life in hell because she was mentally sick and did something without being able to think clearly about what it was she was doing. 

Despite his beautiful words, so many people have criticized her harshly saying things like, "she's a monster," "how could anyone do that to their own kids?," or "she knew what she was doing and continued with it on purpose." My heart aches reading these words. These people clearly don't know what it is like to be in such a dark hole, backed into a tight corner, not sure how to escape and not being able to see that things can and will get better. 

I suppose the reason this hits so close to home is because this is why we can't have anymore kids. The hormone doctor I met with at the hospital in 2021 adamantly warned that given my history and extreme reaction to hormone changes, my chance of developing postpartum psychosis is very high. We've taken extra precautions to make sure that there is no possibility I can get pregnant, and while there are times it breaks my heart that this is our reality, I read stories like this and think about how I can't let that possibly be me. 

Please please PLEASE, I'm begging you, please find it in yourself to feel compassion for this mom. It doesn't make sense what happened, but I completely believe she didn't understand.  She probably thought she was doing what was best for everyone and now her and her family's lives are forever changed. Please check on your postpartum friends. Please reach out if you are ever struggling. I will always be a safe place. You are so loved, needed, and wanted, and the light will always come again. I'm proof of that.