Have you ever been completely out of control of your emotions and reactions to people and situations? You could rationally tell yourself that you are, in fact, being ridiculous while simultaneously be screaming at whatever poor soul crossed your path at any given moment. It was the most surreal feeling to know I was acting irrationally and crazy, and I don't use the crazy word lightly, but that's exactly how I acted. My poor husband walked on eggshells around me. He couldn't say anything right and bless his heart he did everything in his power to be patient with me and relieve me of chores or whatever he could to make my pregnant life easier. Unfortunately, I knew that and it made me even angrier that I couldn't just be glowing and pregnant and grateful for the wonderful husband and baby that God had given me. And if that makes sense at all to you, my anger made me angrier.
I could feel it. I was agitated all the time. At work, at home, when I was doing things that otherwise would make me happy, ALL THE TIME. I couldn't escape it despite my tries. My parents would come visit me and we would lunch and shop and I would bite their heads off then apologize for my behavior. It was embarassing and that made me angrier. And more agitated. I would ruin the visit so much I said to my Mom one time "why do you even come visit me? I'm so miserable to be around" and of course the amazing mother she is she simply told me that she loved me anyway and that she understood that I was moody. And that's what I convinced myself I was. Moody. Not depressed. I wasn't sad I couldn't possibly be depressed.
I read several pregnancy books while I was pregnant. I wanted to know what to expect so I would know if anything outside of normal happened. I wanted to have a natural birth experience without drugs and without a c-section. I needed knowledge to do these things and my Mom and friends provided me with enough references to keep me busy. I had a book that kept track of the weeks of pregnancy you were in and detailed what happened with your growing fetus and your body and emotions during that week. I was always careful not to read ahead because I wanted to know specifically what was happenening that week and would always have next week to look forward to. Then the chapter that changed the course of my pregnancy happened. Intrapartum Depression. I didn't even know it existed. And yet it described exactly how I felt. Right there in front of me. Intrapartum Depression. I think I read that section of the chapter for the week several times as if I couldn't believe what I was reading. Surely it couldn't be me. I was just having a bad week. But it had gone on for a little longer than a week. Ok, a lot longer than a week. Shit.
Nervous to say it out loud like it was some kind of death sentence if spoken I casually mentioned to my husband that I was reading my book and in the course of relaying what was going on with our baby that week I said I think I may have what's called "Intrapartum Depression". Then I quickly listed all the reasons why I didn't think it could apply to me as if I was taking it back. I said the words now I wanted them erased from time as if I never said them. Meanwhile, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas at the prospect that maybe there was hope for living a peaceful exsistance with his batshit crazy pregnant wife. He came with me to the next OB appointment. Actually, he drove like a mad man across town and ran into the exam room while I waited for the doctor exclaiming "did I miss it?" I didn't know at the time why he was so eager to be there.
My doctor is amazing. And when she asked if I had any issues to talk about I quickly said No! I'm good, thanks! Then Phil spoke up. Didn't you want to ask her about the depression. Of course that perked her ears and I explained I had read some book and thought maybe I had some intrapartum depression, but that I was feeling better now. She explained that it was up to me if I wanted to go on meds or not. Only I knew how I was feeling. Phil spoke up and said yes, she needs the meds. I started crying. Then she knew it was for serious. She told me that I didn't have to take them. I could wait and see how I felt, but that they wouldn't hurt the baby. And if I had untreated depression during my pregnancy I would definitely be in the category of women that would be hospitalized for treatment of Post Partum Depression. It doesn't get better after the baby if you have Intrapartum Depression. It gets worse. And then you have a newborn that you have to be away from and you have to be hospitalized to regain your ability to function.
I wasn't mad at Phil for talking to her about my crazy, as we call it. I was a little relieved. And I had the prescription that I dropped off at the pharmacy the next day. I didn't pick it up. I can just get over this myself. I can really. I'm just going to focus and bond with my fetus and I'm going to do this without meds poisoning my baby. And then Friday happened. I was frantic all day. Woke up frantic. Lounged around frantic. Got dressed for the day frantic. Decided to hang some pictures and things frantic. I couldn't find a hammer so I found something really heavy, that would do to hang these things on the wall next to the front door. Damn, I hit my finger. Keep going, oh, that's crooked. Oh well, can't fix it now. Gotta keep hammering. Damn, this isn't working very well. Crash, that one hit the floor. Shit. Keep going you're almost done. Hammer hammer hammer. I stopped hammering, so what is that on the other side of the door? Hammer hammer. Fling the door open. What the hell are you doing home, Phil? I throw the item I'm hanging and stop just before I start hammering away on the bare walls. You haven't started your meds have you? No. We're going to pick them up now.
Phil had come home early to a hot mess of a wife and within inches of having the piss beat out of him with my heavy object instead of a hammer. He was excited to get the weekend started early with me and instead I was the hottest mess he'd ever seen me be. We got dressed for an early dinner. It was raining. He took me to the pharmacy and I didn't protest as I knew it would do no good. We got the prescription. I clung to the bag for a few minutes not wanting to open it. If I opened it my fate was sealed as suffering from Intrapartum Depression, as if the incident a couple hours before hadn't done that already. I took the bottle out of the bag and read every word on every sticker on the bottle. I studied it like a law student about the take the Bar Exam. As we got on the interstate on our way to the restaurant, I swallowed my first pill. I cried.
And the things I was hanging on the wall next to our front door were words from our wedding. Three silver words that lay on the cake table. Faith. Hope. Love.
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