The Book, available now (So long in coming, the book had two versions of the “Afterword”)

This book is so long in coming, I have written two versions of the Afterword.

The “Afterword” in a book is supposed to be that last-minute, stick-it-in-there-before-it-hits-the-press part of the book. You are supposed to write it and then actually print the book. If you write it and then suddenly get pregnant and stop all of life, you might end up with two versions of the Afterword. To show how slowly the wheels of publishing can sometimes turn, you will note that even the new Afterword is a bit dated if you have already read my more recent postpartum depression story. I thought you might find it of interest to read both the old and the new posted below the jump.

If you have not seen sample chapters of the book, you can find them on the book page (where, finally, you can conveniently even buy the book).

Or learn more about the book.

~~~

Here is the first Afterword, written pre-baby #2. I don’t know if this is the edited version. I was lucky to find it on my server:

Afterword #1

About fifty ladies read an earlier version of this book and their main questions was: “How do you feel now?”

In all honesty, I feel better than I have ever felt. I did not have “mental health issues” before I became pregnant, but I can see that I handle stress and relationships much better than I have at any point in my life.

About two weeks ago I got a call from a client and there were some serious issues we needed to address – the timeline and work seemed impossible. I kept the attitude of “the question isn’t ‘will we be able to do it?’, it is ‘how are we going to create a product in this time frame?’” My husband took Frederick on a trip for three days so that I could focus on the project. As they were leaving, I said “It’s one of those situations where you have to build an airplane and all you have is a cardboard box, duct tape, and a package of rubber bands.”

A friend and I worked all weekend, calling back and forth on the phone until bad weather knocked my phone service out for over a day. We ended up in an Internet chat room plotting our strategy. I called Sander when the phone was working and caught him while he and Frederick were watching a movie in a theater.

“We’re in a movie,” he whispered on his cell phone.

“I built the airplane.”

At any point in my life, this particular situation would have put me over the edge. I might have been able to complete the task in the past, but the emotional cost would have been enormous. I am definitely feeling better than ever.

More Babies?

The second most common question I get is, “Are you going to have another baby?” We certainly would if we were members of another generation, but time marches on for us here. We started pretty late with Frederick and five years out now is pretty darned late. I know I would have an easier pregnancy now than I did five years ago, but I doubt any pregnancy is easy when the doc has to label your chart “advanced maternal age.”

For people considering another baby after a bad bout of depression in a previous pregnancy or birth, time is a powerful tool. Consider longer spaces between those babies so that you can rebuild your nutritional stores before they are taxed again. If you find yourself pregnant before you planned, work very hard to get all of the nutrients you can. You are both going to need them.

Try to focus on getting what you need whether it is time to yourself, time off, certain foods, or a foot rub. I did say to Sander a couple of times, “If we have another baby and I tell you I need something, I don’t want you to ask ‘are you sure?,’ I want you to figure out how to get it.” Husbands may not take too well to such comments, but women tend not to ask for what they need. Women in martyr mode cannot turn out a whole lot of babies very well. If I do become pregnant again, I will ask for what I need.

And How’s Frederick?

Frederick is a fantastic boy, but of course I am biased. Every single day with him gets easier, but that is because we started with some pretty difficult days.

His feeding problems were monumental; at least that’s how it felt. The problem was easily fixed once we found the right help, though it took four weeks of looking. Four weeks is a very long time when you are not able to feed your baby.

He continued to be a very high-need baby, I expect in part due to those early feeding problems and in part due to my own health status. We worked very hard to meet his needs. At times all three adults in the household (my husband, mom, and I) were exhausted by the effort. But as I look back on those times, I do not regret the energy we spent trying to keep him focused and entertained. Today he is an extremely confident boy who knows what he wants and asks for it. He doesn’t always get it. But as adults, we should all have such confidence in ourselves. I hope he is able to maintain this level of confidence.

Should Have, Could Have

Of course, there are many things I could have done differently had I the knowledge or inclination. When you struggle to function each day, there is not a lot of opportunity to do “extra.” Certainly there is not much opportunity to educate yourself about your options when you are hanging by a thread.

Yes, there are many things I regret but I just don’t give them a lot of thought these days. I wrote the book for myself first and have published it to help people cut their information costs so that they may have fewer regrets. Best of luck to you.

~~~

New Afterword

Some years back my mother and I engaged in one of those hypothetical conversations: “At the end of your life, if you were given the chance to spend fifteen minutes with your child at any age in her life cycle would you spend fifteen minutes with her as an adult or fifteen minutes rocking her as a newborn baby?” My mother responded easily, “Definitely the adult version. We would have a much more interesting conversation.” Mom was surprised by my answer: I chose the newborn version of Frederick.

Nearly seven years and time in therapy has not erased the loss I feel over Frederick’s newborn days. What I do remember of his infancy is not something I cherish. I remember comforting him, concerned that he was infested with demons. I remember his screams piercing the night. I remember the pillow that would have ended the screams quickly, but luckily has finished its own life in a municipal waste dump. We all made it out alive, but we did miss the opportunity to sit still together and to find comfort in each other. A baby rocked by his mother is less anxious than one lying alone. Surely a mother is less anxious when she is rocking her baby. I have grieved deeply over our loss of those months.

Months of loss became years and the depression taxed our family structure. It stole our time together. It stole our money. Knowing that these situations typically get worse rather than better in subsequent pregnancies, no one in this household was brave enough to plan another child, though we all wanted one more than just about anything else. Much to our surprise, I spent the better part of 2008 pregnant and putting this book even further behind deadline.

The pregnancy was physically difficult with my advancing age but I managed to keep my sanity even through difficult times. Some of the ups and downs are memorialized on the Rebuild Blog. We hosted a beautiful formal wedding on our property for 200 people in my second trimester. I faced problems in my for-pay work in my third trimester that would have taxed my brain under any circumstances. We planned for the bad times to hit hard in the third trimester when I had major depression and psychotic episodes the first time around. As grace and good preparation would have it, I avoided down cycles entirely.

As the pregnancy came to an end, I began to think that this baby was my second chance: maybe I could enjoy my baby like many people seem to do. Maybe I would get my baby-rocking time after all. I wondered if I would have a boy who would look just like Frederick as an infant, though the entire family and friendship circle was expecting a girl.

The end of the pregnancy became increasingly difficult as climbing out of bed turned into a gymnastic event and my blood pressure teetered on the verge of hypertension. The hypertension may have been pregnancy-induced. It may have been induced by the demons in my head concerned about a repeat Cesarean section and, more so, about the possibility of having a baby with health problems. My blood pressure climbed each day in the week leading up to the birthday and my anxiety climaxed as I was wheeled through a hospital hallway and into the surgery room. It was a hallway in which I felt abandoned nearly seven years before, recovering from thoughts that I was dying from surgery and not understanding where my baby and family were. After passing through the hallway this time around, the surgery team worked hard to distract me from my own anxiety for the twenty-two minutes it took for baby to be birthed.

After twenty-two minutes of extreme anxiety, an amazing thing happened in that operating room: I gave birth to a healthy baby who looked just like Frederick. Someone on the surgery team exclaimed, “It’s a boy!” My husband examined him and reported back to me, “He’s beautiful!” I cried so much for no apparent reason that the anesthesiologist spiked my spinal medication with a calming elixir. She assumed my emotions were due to anxiety.

We are home now, still in the early newborn stage, and I hold this baby most of the day. I take in every little sound he makes. There does not seem to be a way to both enjoy and record every moment of this time for posterity, though I have tried.

For as well as it is going, I am well aware that I am living on the razor’s edge with built-in sleep deprivation, hormonal shifts, nutrient depletion, and facing the worst economy I have lived through. Every day I focus on keeping myself out of the pit. Every day, “sanity” is a win.

While my focus is on survival and enjoying my children, I do post occasionally on the Rebuild Blog about my survival strategies. The depression struggle is complex and a long game, lasting over a lifetime. I share my game with you in this book and on the blog, hoping that you will find a tool or two to assist you in winning yours.

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