Breaking the Silence: My Struggle With Postpartum Anxiety

Postpartum mood disorders are more common than people think, yet it is something that isn’t openly talked about. I myself have been battling with postpartum anxiety since my daughter’s birth in September, and it has taken me since then to feel strong enough to talk about it.

I know many of you are thinking, “You’re a new mom, you’re going to feel anxious! That’s just a part of being a parent.” Postpartum anxiety is not your run-of-the-mill, new mom anxiety. It’s a whole different kind of monster. It's a kind of anxiety that keeps you from being able to sleep even when you're the most tired you've ever been in your life. It’s a moment of sheer panic that will bring you out of your deepest REM cycle, leaving you shaking and breathless. It's a non-stop scrolling of upsetting thoughts, images, and worst case scenario "what ifs." It's a rock in the bottom of your stomach that just won't go away. It's the bitter taste of irrational anger that turns into mean comments directed towards the ones you love. It’s a vice that holds you in a place of fear, making it nearly impossible to leave your home. It’s a shiver that runs up and down your spine, and an ache that sits on your chest. It is one of these things alone and all of these things at the same time, and even in the joyful moments, it is always present. Although you are smiling and laughing with family and friends, it’s a cold hand around your throat, reminding you that this is a monster you cannot escape.

The worst part about it is, you begin to believe this is just your new normal. You begin to convince yourself that you must be a terrible parent, a weak woman, a bad person, because no one ever talked about a fear that  would be so overwhelming and unexplainable it would leave you sobbing over the kitchen sink. Obviously you were just not made to be a mother.

Then one day, in a moment of utter hopelessness, you decide to talk about it. You call a friend, or text your brother, or sob to your husband, and they all tell you that it’s not normal to be feeling this way. They suggest you see a doctor. But most importantly, they assure you that everything will be okay, and for a moment the weight of the monster doesn’t feel as heavy, because now other people are carrying it with you.

This has been my experience with PPA, and I know it is not an experience I alone have faced. After speaking with my obstetrician, seeing a psychologist, and going on a low dose of (breastfeeding safe) medicine I have begun to feel a huge difference. I still struggle daily with anxiety, and I know I will for a while, but I have the tools and resources now to help myself. I am beginning to feel like myself again and have been able to develop some coping skills for when things get particularly difficult.

Even though I know what I have experienced is not my fault, I can’t help but struggle with feelings of shame and guilt. I recognize that this is something in my life that I should not be ashamed of, and I continue to work on re-mediating those feelings by talking about it to my doctor. For this reason especially, I have decided to share my story so it no longer is a secret I must bear. I hope women who are reading this, and may be experiencing the same thing understand:

1.  Anything you may be feeling is an emotion that is yours and yours alone, no one can tell you to stop feeling that way or “snap out of it.”

2. This is not your fault and you could not have done anything differently to avoid it!

3. This is not forever, get the help you need- and soon you will be able to look back on this time as a rough patch in your postpartum journey.

Most importantly, I am breaking my silence for my daughter, who one day may be a mother too. I want her to grow into motherhood in a world where mothers are supported and not shamed for struggling with postpartum life. It is not a change that will happen overnight, but maybe if more women begin to share their stories of the struggles and

strife of womanhood- they will no longer be seen as experiences of “the other,” rather the moments that many, if not all women, will go through at some point in their lives. Maybe in time the shame, guilt, and secrecy will be no more.

If you or someone you know is struggling with postpartum mood disorders, or if you want to know more information, feel free to visit some of the following websites that I have found particularly helpful:

http://www.postpartumprogress.com/how-many-women-get-postpartum-depression-the-statistics-on-ppd

http://www.1800ppdmoms.org/

http://www.postpartum.net/

Bring Trump to Chicago

I am a South side-Chicago-City Girl through and through. I was raised in Chicago proper and I currently reside in a south side neighborhood, just minutes from where I grew up. I take great pride in my city.  We are a people who will stand up in the face of a misguided mayor and demand for something better. We have culture dripping from out city streets. Every few blocks you will come across a neighborhood that is different from the one you just passed. We fight for student and teacher rights, and will literally stop traffic to make sure our voices are heard. We are not a fearful people.

So, why are we afraid of a little man called Donald Trump? I know his big mouth and hateful following is something we do not want in our city. But we must not forget, this is OUR city. We are the ones who have the power in this situation. We can welcome Trump into our home and show him with our peaceful protests or through an empty pavilion that we will not stand for what he represents. By signing a petition to cancel his rally we are only stifling ourselves. What is it that you want people to know about Trump? Now is the time to write it on a poster board or blast it from a megaphone.

I would rather see a TV spot about how Trump could not be heard over the cacophony of Chicagoans who showed up to the rally to protest his potential candidacy. Or how he gave a speech to an almost empty pavilion. By canceling the rally we are saying, "Trump is too much for us to handle," we are saying, "We are afraid."

No movement that matters comes without struggle. I for one am in no way an advocate for violence, but I believe that if we uphold ourselves to the standards of the grassroots movements of history that have come before us, we can show Trump and his followers that Chicago will not sit silently in the face of racism, misogyny, and xenophobia. We are the city of strong shoulders, let us not use that strength to push away the challenge of Trump, rather use those shoulders to stand on so everyone across the nation can hear what we think.

Bring Trump to Chicago- show up and protest, or don't show up at all. Either way, we must show him,  his hateful platform has no power in our city.

Haiku of Motherhood Series: Pregnancy

I was very lucky to have a pretty smooth pregnancy. In fact, I quite enjoyed being pregnant; watching my belly grow, feeling the kicks, hearing her heartbeat. For me, it was a pretty magical time, but it wasn’t without its bothersome moments. Although no woman's pregnancy is exactly the same, there is still so many shared experiences among women who have been pregnant. I hope you enjoy the following Haiku. I hope they make you smile, laugh, and (if you are no longer pregnant) remind you of a special time.

The first ultrasound

My most precious grain of rice

A beautiful sight

Someone lied about

Morning sickness because I

Feel sick all day long

Our baby’s heartbeat

We heard over the Doppler

The sweetest music

Not really showing

Yet, my jeans no longer fit

Time for some new clothes

Cravings are no fun

When they hit you all at once

I must eat it all

Swelling all over

Fingers, toes, and baby bump

Stretch marks appearing

Strangers touch my bump

It is not a sign of luck

It is just plain rude

Baby kicks and rolls

Like a little alien

Living inside me

Wherever I go

My baby is always here

Right under my heart

Shopping for a crib,

Changing table, and rocker

All our money gone

Don’t you dare ask me

If I am carrying twins

Unless you want death

Dying to find out

Will I use the name I picked

For a boy or girl?

Lights out for Mama

Means party time for baby

What’s up with that, Kid?

Heartburn has me like

A fire-breathing dragon

Please pass me the tums

Filled with emotions

Waves of joy and bursts of fear-

What a wild ride

Haiku of Motherhood Series: Babymaking

The first set of Haiku in my series focuses on the excitement and at times heartbreak of trying to have a baby. It did not take my husband and I very long to get pregnant, and for that I am grateful. Still the short amount of time we were trying, I remember the near psychosis I brought myself to, wanting to be pregnant so badly. Once I decided I wanted to have a baby, there was nothing else I could think about.

So, I did what any book worm would do, I read and read and read until I felt like an expert on all things relating to baby making and pregnancy. I drove my husband crazy!  One night after work, in an effort to take my mind off things (and give the hubby a night off of baby-making drama) I went out for drinks with friends. That was the same night I found out I was pregnant! I will never forget that night-the start of the crazy roller coaster of Motherhood, and once I got on, there was no going back.

I hope you enjoy this Haiku series, it reads as a sort of narrative. I know there are many men and women out there who can relate to many of the things I write about. For those of you out there who are in the middle of your own baby making narrative, I pass on good vibes and baby dust!

I woke up one day

With the burning desire

To become a Mom

Deciding to make

A baby is both scary

And so exciting

Read every book

Follow every single blog

Become an expert

Temping everyday

At the crack of dawn to get

Most accurate temp

The body signals

The time when you are fertile

Egg whites is the key

Ovulation time

Let’s do the deed to make a

Mini you or me

Baby clothes in stores

A cruel tease to those of us

With an empty womb

Legs up in the air

Let gravity do its job

Husband laughs at me

Visits from Aunt Flo

Used to bring a great relief

Now it brings me tears

As the month goes by

We play the waiting game of

Baby making chance

This month is the one

He assures me as we lay

I pray he is right

Dollar store pee sticks

Work just as well, so I buy

Every test they have

Testing twice a day

Driving myself so crazy

Imagining lines

Hard apple cider

With friends at happy hour

Trying to relax

The faintest pink line

Appeared one night after work

Can’t believe my eyes!

Haiku of Motherhood Series

Haiku is a traditional poem containing 17 syllables total, in 3 lines, 5,7,5 respectively. Traditional Haiku is usually written about nature, the elements, and seasons. Reading and writing (especially writing) Haiku is a favorite pastime of mine, because I love the challenge of trying to fit a lot of meaning into a little amount of words.

So, I have decided to try my hand at writing (non-traditional) Haiku, centering around the nature of motherhood. In fact, I will be writing a Blog Series, focusing on a specific aspect of motherhood in each. I hope you enjoy reading the Haiku as much as I enjoyed writing them. Some are meant to be funny, some touching, but all are honest and based on my own personal experiences.

My intention, as always, is to write about situations and events that will unite people, mothers in this case, through our shared experiences. I look forward to sharing my Haiku with you!

Below is a preview of the series, as well as a sneak peak Haiku:

First in series: Baby Making

Second in series: Pregnancy

Third in series: Newborn, New Mama

Final in series: Breastfeeding

Sneak Peek------->

Peeing on a stick

Like playing the lottery

Pink lines mean jackpot!

When Blessings Feel Like Burdens

It’s 5:45 pm on a Friday night and I’m driving home after an excruciatingly long day.  The stress from the week has finally reached a boiling point and hot tears start falling down my face. It’s just been one of those weeks, and I’m on the ledge in danger of falling into a deep pit of self pity.

I start thinking about the fact that I stayed at school for an hour after the last bell to grade student work and I still had a pile waiting for me when I returned. I reflected on the school week. A week I wanted to forget. I broke up two fights, my eighth period’s misogynistic comments forced me to tears (in the privacy of the bathroom), my computer broke, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of being overworked and under-appreciated.  I planned out the following week in my mind, which included several after-school meetings. I thought about how my last after-school meeting ran so long that by the time I got home, my daughter was tucked in her bed, asleep, even though she didn’t see me at all. My chest ached because I was pulled into a last-minute meeting at school and missed a pump session. I thought I had made up for it later that day, but the lasting effects were starting to hit me as sharp pains shot through my chest.

The to-do list for the weekend started scrolling through my mind. The ACT class I had to teach Saturday morning was not yet planned for, the shopping list I had  for my daughter’s upcoming baptism reception kept growing, yet the RSVP’s were rolling in slowly and I knew I would have to start tracking down the invitees to get a final count.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had alone time with my husband, and even though he slept next to me every night, he felt a million miles away. The idea of planning a date night seemed ridiculous in the light of everything we had going on.

In the short ride between school and home I had worked myself into a full-on anxiety meltdown. I kept telling myself that it was impossible to do it all: mother, teacher (both during the week and on the weekend), wife, club moderator, union member (who is in the middle of contract negotiations),caretaker, party planner...and as I climbed the steps to my house I was ready to throw in the towel. I was ready to declare to my husband that I QUIT! Adulting was not for me, and I was over all of it.

My husband knew I was having an off week, as I had complained about it over the last few days, so he didn’t question my sullen silence as I came into the house and prepared to nurse my daughter. She was hungry and a bit fussy, so I hurried to my seat on the couch and arranged myself. As he handed her to me, she smiled as she knew what was happening- dinner! She nursed and I felt a surge of relief as the engorgement that was ailing me before began to subside as did my anxiety.

Over the course of the weekend I began to realize I had it all wrong, I had so much to be grateful for! I was looking at my life -- and the things that were making me upset -- as a problem. In reality, all of those “problems” were things I had prayed for, wished for, and worked for. It was at that point that I saw that I am not in fact burdened, but I am blessed.

I thought more and more about why I was unhappy, and I began to see that I was allowing the challenges I was facing overshadow the fact that I have so many things going right in my life. I have a job that, although is a major stressor at times, is meaningful and gives me a purpose every day. I have the privilege of being on the team that is building a fair and comprehensive union contract that will benefit many students and teachers who enter the school doors even once I am no longer there.

I have a huge family! And yes, that can mean that parties and gatherings can get pretty expensive and are hectic to plan, but it’s only because everyone wants to be a part of the celebration. How can I be upset with that? There will always be opportunities to make more money, but making memories is much more important.

Of course, there is my daughter. The greatest gift I have ever been given, and I have the ability to give her the best form of nourishment and immunities through breastfeeding. I made a goal for myself to exclusively breastfeed my daughter for the first year of her life, and we are five and half months into it, and I am determined to make it to twelve months. I stand by the statement, “Breast is Best,” and I am grateful that I am able to provide what is best for my daughter. There are so many times when I would rather be in bed than attached to a pump at 3 am. Numerous times when nursing her is painful. I have dealt with the stares and eye rolls of strangers when I’ve nursed in public. There have been times when I can’t get to her or my pump soon enough and I ache or leak through my blouse. But it all continues to be worth it because it is for my daughter.

As I continued to go over what I am grateful for, I started to feel lighter. There is still so much in my life that can cause me stress, but I have come to see that it is only because I care so much about it all--and that’s not a bad thing! As my identity expands to include more and more roles, I get that there may be some growing pains associated with each. I have to trust that the skills, knowledge, and experience needed to be successful in those roles will also shift, grow, and change. To not have change is to be stagnant, and that is definitely something I don’t want.

By the end of the weekend, I was determined to make a shift in my thinking. I spoke to my husband about what I had been on my mind. I shared my frustrations and guilt. To top it off, in all of this, never did I even ask him how he was doing. Why did I think I was the only one struggling? My guilt became heavier.

I decided we needed make a point everyday to be positive and grateful. So, we agreed to do one little thing everyday that would not only give us time to connect, but also help us to see the blessings in our lives. We set a timer on our phones, to everyday, share with each other something we are grateful for. Something specific to the events of that day. It can be something the other person did, or something related to work or family-anything really. To hold ourselves accountable we made three rules:

1. We BOTH have to do it, even on the bad days. If there is ever a time when we are not together at the end of the day, we must share our gratitudes in a phone call or text message.
2. It must be specific- not a vague cop-out statement like, “I’m grateful for my husband.”
3. It must be genuine gratitude ( this one was mostly for me since I can get pretty sarcastic when I’m in a bad mood)

I know it may seem like a silly thing, but so far it has made such an improvement in my life and in my marriage. It forces me to stop and think about all the good moments I had throughout the day that can easily be overlooked, and it’s an opportunity to spend a genuine and intimate moment with my husband. It can be said over dinner, or during my daughter’s bath time. It can be just a statement or it can open the conversation to a story from the day I want to share. Eventually, this will be a tradition we will extend to our daughter and future children. We’ve only been doing it for a short time, but I believe it’s something that will last because it makes us feel good and it’s not hard to keep up.

As I conclude my thoughts, I have to admit I am a little embarrassed. I let myself go on and on thinking I had it so rough, when in reality it’s the opposite. I am grateful to my readers, for allowing me to be self-centered for a page (or two). We all need to sulk sometimes, but we also need to figure out ways to pull ourselves out of those moments as well. As a reader, I hope my you were able to gain some perspective about your own life, like I was able to. How have you been feeling lately? Have you been looking at your blessings as burdens like I was? It’s never too late to open your eyes and heart, and make a small change that can improve your outlook on life.

5 Reasons Why Being Friends With Your Siblings is the Best

There is a saying my Dad would always say to us when he wanted to make us laugh, “You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend's’ nose.” This saying was usually met with a chorus of “eww” as we all dodged each other's fingers, but my dad was absolutely right, you can pick your friends. Family on the other hand, is luck of the draw. Still, there is something pretty magical that happens when you take your relationships with your family members to the next level and become friends. Specifically, when you become friends with your siblings. Now, I’m not meaning Facebook-obligatory- like their posts-friendships. I am talking about daily contact- genuine interest in their lives- wanting to see them more than during the holidays-secret language-friendship.

It’s true it is not always easy to be friends with your brothers and sisters, and there may be periods of time when you are closer to one over the other. But the beauty of this is, you will never be without each other. Family is forever, and if you are lucky enough to consider your brothers and sisters your friends, you will always have someone there for you. Now, being friends with your siblings can happen naturally, but there are elements to it that take work. When you have a busy life, you have to decide to be friends with each other and make the effort just as you would with any other relationship. That being said, long ago I decided that my brothers and sisters were more than just my siblings, they were also my friends, and I soon discovered he following are reasons why being friends with your siblings is the best:

1. You will never run out of inside jokes

No matter who you are, sharing an inside joke with someone is one of the most fun ways to feel connected. When it comes to the people you grew up with, there are a plethora of moments that when reminded of will evoke endless giggles and eye watering laughter- usually while other people look at you in confusion.

2. So much between you is unspoken

There are multiple layers of understanding and familiarity with your siblings and so, when you talk to each other, you are able to surpass the backstory and get right to the heart of the matter. Answering each other’s text messages with one word, or a GIF works because there is already a lifetime of context to rely on.

3. You have seen them at their worst moments and still want to be around them

Think about all the gross things you have seen your siblings do growing up. Maybe one of you was a terrible person as a teenager, or went through a weird phase. Whatever  bad or gross things we have witnessed our siblings do, it hasn’t scared us away. We didn’t really have a choice when we were younger, and now that we do, it’s forgotten- or it gets added to the list of things we use to make fun of each other- see #1.

4. No one knows you better

I would like to think as we age, we also grow. We learn from our mistakes and we become better people. That being said, our siblings know who we are at our core, and that doesn’t change. Since the development of our personalities are intertwined with each other no matter how we change, our siblings will always know us best, and there will be very few people in our lives who can say the same.

5.   The Love

The love that exists between siblings is only second to the love between children and parents. Even the love between spouses takes a close third. I have the privilege of remembering when each of my siblings were born, and the instant rush of emotions I had for them when I first laid eyes on them is a feeling I can’t explain. Only seeing my own child after her birth can top the moment. The love in a friendship between brothers and sisters creates an unbreakable bond, and it is for this reason that friendships like this are meant to last forever.

I am excited for the day when my daughter has a little brother or sister of her very own to play with, take care of, and love. I only hope that I can instill the same sense of  closeness that my parents  instilled in me and my siblings. At the very least, my brothers, sisters, and I will be a model for all of our children, just as my father and his siblings have been for us.

I know I’m lucky to have this kind of relationship with my brothers and sister, and I’m grateful everyday that the universe chose me to be their sister, and more so that they chose me to be their friend.