Roadtrips with a toddler: where’s the wine?

As I’m sure any parent of a toddler (especially a potty training toddler) can relate, road trips suck. What used to take a 3 hour drive to visit family has now turned into a 5 hour trip with multiple stops, pee breaks on the side of the road, spilled drinks, and the dinosaur dance on repeat just to keep the car happy. Don’t get me wrong, there are some fun sing along times and eye spy games. But for the most part I am simply waiting until we get to our destination so I can open up that bottle of wine and work on the next challenge of dealing with bedtime in a new place.

Today, however, I hit a new milestone in my marriage on our return trip from a weekend away visiting family. Bee-boo has discovered a new love of peeing in the grass, so every 20 minutes or so she wanted to stop and go pee. She wasn’t peeing in her pants so we were happy to oblige. She also now finds it hilarious every time she toots, and at this moment was laughing and saying “I tooted!!” She then said she need to pee again. However on this 5th pee stop, which of course was also mommy’s turn to get out with her, as I pulled down her pants I discovered that I was also smearing poop all down her legs and all over me. So picture this…I’m squatting on the side of the highway holding bee-boo by the arms as she’s squatting with her feet on my feet, pants around her ankles and poop everywhere. I physically cannot move without more poop going everywhere. I shift my weight and am able to bang on the car with my foot in the hopes of my dear husband coming to our rescue with baby wipes and clean clothes.

This is where my marriage milestone came in. In this poop covered moment, we were a team, totally in sync. Nothing had to be said. Each knew what had to be done. And after a half a box of wipes, and clothes in a poop bag going to the trash (there are some things just not worth saving), we were back on the road. And all we could do was laugh. And I realized that this situation could have been a lot different if I had have been sharing it with someone else. I was so in love with my husband at that moment. These past few years have been tough. Really tough. We’ve been through a lot together and my husband has been my rock through some pretty dark days. But I feel like I can finally see that light at the end of the tunnel lately. And knowing that I have my best friend beside me who I can laugh with through the literally shitty times, makes things a little less scary.

 

Work/Life Balance is a myth

As I sit in my office looking at my blouse that is covered in bee-boo’s breakfast for the second day in a row, it dawns on me: work/life balance is total bs.

I have been going through an internal power struggle lately. In the blue corner is the business woman. The woman who loves her job. Who loves the challenge and the thrill that being part of a young company brings. She has so many ideas and is excited at the aspect of fulfilling them all. But what’s that? It’s 4:30 already and time for daycare pickup? POW! From the red corner comes the mom. The woman who can’t wait to go and pick up her daughter and get the sweetest little hugs and kisses that she gives now. The woman who couldn’t care less about what’s she’s wearing and is eager to get down on the floor and play with some blocks.

So why the hell can’t the two just get along and merge already? I think it’s because somewhere along the way woman were presented with the idea that they can have it all. They can have a fulfilling career and a big family and do it all without missing a beat.

We can indeed have it all…..But not at the same time.

I recently attending an event that discussed the future of woman in leadership. And sure enough this topic was brought up. It was refreshing that there was a group of woman talking about this and being completely honest. The presenter showed a slide that said the following:

1. Work
2. Family
3. Friends
4. Exercise
5. Sleep

PICK THREE.

And there it was. The moment of truth. The unveiling that having it all and work/life balance was total and complete bullshit. I breathed a sigh of relief.

So now I try to pick three things to focus on and forgive myself when the other two get left out. That still doesn’t solve the internal power struggle unfortunately. But maybe the two aren’t meant to merge? Maybe that’s how woman and moms stay sane is by having a sense of self outside of their mom role. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom and that doesn’t go away. But often times I think woman lose themselves in this new mom role. And then the years go by in a blink of an eye and the kids move out and then they have no idea who they even are anymore.

Can we have it all? No. Can we be utterly happy in what we do have? Absolutely. I think I’m going to ring the bell and call the struggle a tie. Why does one side have to win and the other lose? I’m just going to enjoy each to the fullest during their allotted time slots. And work on my time management skills!

“Have no fear of perfection; you’ll never reach it.” – Marie Curie

the best wines are the ones we drink with friends

The best way to describe living with anxiety and depression  would be to say it’s like living in a tropical place without a weather centre. It’s sunny and beautiful most days, but you know that at some point it’s going to rain. You just don’t know when.

The worst part is, the longer you go without any rain, you start to think that maybe it won’t rain at all. You think that you have somehow figured out a way to control the weather, which we all know is not possible. And I can just picture that little bitch on her black cloud giggling in the corner as I come to that realization.

Things were going pretty great. Work was good. Family was good. Bee-boo was thriving in daycare. So why all of a sudden couldn’t I get to sleep again? And why was a finding it so hard to find the joy in things, or take so much effort to even just smile?

When I realized I didn’t fully have this thing beat, I’ll be honest: I was pissed. I was doing things right, I was taking my medication. But didn’t that bitch still find a way to sneak in. This is where having a support system in place and open communication is key.

I was feeling beat and defeated. I had tried and yet here I was again just wanting to crawl under the covers and never leave. But the next thing I knew, there was hubby laying next to me. I said I’m sorry I’m having a low week, to which he answered “hey, this could be me next week. You never know when it’s going to happen.” It was such a simple statement but it meant the world to me. He got it. He knew I was in this “low” not because of anything I did, nor could I just “snap out of it”. He understood that with depression meant this sort of looming dark cloud that could appear at any time, despite our best efforts.

So often we just want to hide from everyone and put on a happy front. But it is so important to have the right people in our lives that get us and support us. Hubby has been great and knows when to say nothing and just give me a hug. My mom has been incredible and seems to know if I need to cry, if I need a break, if I need an ear to just vent to, or when I need some advice.

I’ve also got my other moms. A small group of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. I met them by total fluke when bee-bo was about 4 months old and they have totally changed my life. To have a group of woman going through similar situations such as introducing solids, or trying to find teething solutions, or next up potty training has been invaluable. Who also are in need of the occasional “mom’s night out” to enjoy a glass of wine or a meal they didn’t have to cook.  When I was first diagnosed with PPD I didn’t want to tell anyone. But I shared my first blog post with this group and the support I’ve received from these moms since has been so humbling and inspiring. And they all have umbrellas for me on those rainy days.

I need to keep reminding myself that this isn’t something that I can just beat, nor do I have total control over it. But it’s also important to be strong. Because things will get better. It may be stormy now, but it never rains forever.

Ok with the Not Ok

Project Semi-Colon: February is Suicide Prevention Month and people around the world are getting a Semi-Colon Tattoo to draw attention to mental health. Local Tattoo shop, White Lotus, opened its doors to raise funds for CHIMO. My mom, sister and I decided to make it a family event!

Mental Health has always been an open discussion in my family household. My mom and sister have been a major part of my support system as I’ve been going through PPD, therefore this tattoo experience meant a lot to me.

I’d like to pause here and just give every mom reading this a huge round of applause. I honestly don’t know how it’s possible that we have all of these amazing woman walking around everyday like everything is normal. How are mothers not rewarded daily for what they do?!

It is a daily struggle for me as a working mom. I feel guilty every morning that I drop my daughter off at daycare. But then when I’m home with her on the weekends I feel guilty that I am looking forward to going back to work on Monday because this toddlerhood thing is exhausting! I’m constantly wondering if I’m doing the right thing. Am I stimulating her enough? Am I setting enough and the right boundaries? Did I use too harsh of a tone the last time I told her no?

I am also still struggling to find balance between being me and being a mom. I am trying to make a conscience effort to say hello and kiss my husband before I go and swoop the baby up. I’m trying to remember that I used to like bubble baths and a glass of wine, but somehow it’s just not the same when the bathtub is full of rubber duckies. I vaguely remember when I used to want to go for a run or attend a yoga class. Where did that motivation go? I’ll tell you where it went…it went to explaining that the cow goes moo and the duck goes quack! At the end of the day I have nothing left for me. And you know what? I’m ok with that for now. I’m ok with the not being ok. With being ok that I didn’t make a fancy dinner but at least we all got fed. Ok with the fact I didn’t get to shower today, but I did make my daughter giggle uncontrollably with a crawling race across the livingroom.

I was hoping that with this blog I could write words of inspiration for other moms in similar situations. But for this one I hope I can just help one other mom realize that they’re not alone. That we’re all just doing the best that we can. Or at the very least, let myself know that it’s ok.

I know things will settle and I’ll figure out a way to balance this whole working mom thing. But for now I’m ok with the not ok. And I have this great reminder on my wrist now  to remind me that it’s ok to stop and take a breath.

 

Red Pill or Blue Pill?

What it is it about medication for treating depression that has us so on edge? Where did this stigma around antidepressants come from? If we were diagnosed with high blood pressure or diabetes, we wouldn’t think twice about taking medication to treat it. So why is mental health treated differently?

I don’t know the answers to these questions, I just know that I was terrified to take antidepressants to treat my PPD. What if it changed who I was? What if I had to take pills for the rest of my life to function normally everyday? But then I started thinking of the alternative. I couldn’t keep going the way I was going. Not knowing when that little bitch on her black cloud was going to creep back in and not knowing if I could handle it when she did come back was not the way I wanted to live. Why wouldn’t I want to take any help possible to get myself back to 100% as soon as possible?

After talking to my doctor, I discovered that I would not need to take medication for the rest of my life. Most woman with PPD need treatment (either medication, counselling, or a combination of both) for about 6-9 months. Phew. Ok. I could handle that. So I went for it.

Filling the prescription I felt like I was Neo in the Matrix  choosing between the red pill or the blue pill. There was still a little bit of doubt lingering in my mind. Did I really have PPD or was I just hormonal and maybe this was just PMS (the longest case of PMS ever, but still). After 2 weeks of taking the medication though, the most amazing thing happened: I felt like me again. I thought that I had lost that girl forever but there she was. I was sleeping soundly again. My body no longer ached from head to toe. And the best part, I couldn’t wait to get up in the morning and hang out with bee-bo.

Being back to my old self I’m able to reflect back on the past few months a little bit more clearly. There are moments that I get angry that I didn’t seek help sooner as I feel like I was robbed of a couple of months with my daughter. I was there with her but I wasn’t fully enjoying the moments with her like I am now. I also can’t believe some of things that went through my mind. At the time though, I felt completely justified for being pissed off that hubby was breathing so loudly!

I did also seek out counselling. I went to 3 different counsellors as I realized it’s important to find the right person to talk to. In my case, 3rd time was the charm. I wanted to make sure that I was taking all the necessary steps to tackle this illness and it looks like I’m on the right path. Talking and opening up is a big part of my recovery and having the support of my family and friends has been incredible.

I know this is just the beginning of my recovery but I feel so much more optimistic about the outcome. I’m excited about things again. I no longer want to just hide under the covers. I think I’m just about ready to buy that little bitch a one way ticket out of here for good. I’m glad I picked the red pill.

 

PPD – It’s Not What It Looks Like

Last week I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression. Part of me wasn’t surprised. I mean, I did briefly think about driving my car off the road just a few days before. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely don’t want to kill myself. But I just wanted to injure myself enough to warrant a hospital stay for a couple of days so that I could have a break from everything. I desperately wanted someone to decide the dinner menu, even if it that meant it was horrible hospital food.

The other part of me was surprised because it wasn’t like I was depressed and crying everyday. I was doing everything right. I was eating healthy, I was exercising. I had a lot of wonderful happy days. But that’s how this bitch gets you. She messes with your mind and makes you think that everything is ok. Until it isn’t.

I first thought that maybe something was wrong during the first couple of months after having bee-boo. I was exhausted. And overwhelmed. I wanted to run away. I wanted my old life back. But then around the 6 week mark, I looked down at bee-boo and my heart just overflowed with love and joy. I cried at how much I loved her. I no longer longed for my old life but instead embraced the new normal that is life with a newborn.

However there were still days that I wanted to run away. They usually happened after a night of no sleep. Hubby was great and on his days off would let me run away to Starbucks and enjoy a coffee that I didn’t have to reheat 5 times. And when I was there sitting alone with my hot coffee, all I wanted to do was get back home to bee-boo.

I blamed it all on hormones. It was one hell of a roller coaster ride.

Things started to settle into a routine and hubby took the summer off which was amazing. Around the 6 month mark I stopped breastfeeding which meant that hubby could help out with the 5am feedings. This didn’t come without a TON of mommy-guilt though. Thankfully soon enough I realized that bee-boo seemed a lot more satisfied with her bottle of formula, and mommy’s hormonal roller coaster seemed to be coming to an end. I could even finally enjoy a glass of wine without thinking about the baby’s feeding schedule! Life was good. And then it wasn’t. Didn’t that bitch inch her way back into my life.

It started with body aches. Everything hurt. My muscles hurt. Every joint from my shoulders to my ankles hurt. I couldn’t exercise and I no longer even wanted to go out for walks. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. My mind was always wandering and I couldn’t sit still. My mind seemed to be racing all of the time. When talking with someone I would have a hard time finding the words I wanted to say or even remember what the other person just said to me. Then I started to not be able to sleep. And I love sleep! I would feel completely exhausted and could barely keep my eyes open, but two hours after going to bed I was still awake. When sleep finally came, it was only for short periods of time. I’d wake up at 3am and not be able to get back to sleep for hours.

Sleep deprivation is a form of torture and I can see why. It affects every aspect of your life. Little things are now monstrous. Everything seems impossible. And everything hubby did made me so angry! I was constantly mad at him but for absolutely no reason.

Then came the panic attacks. It was the littlest thing that set me off and I felt like my world was colliding. I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt. I had uncontrollable sobbing. Hubby just held me and rocked me through it. He then went and got the dog which petting him helped slow everything down for me. I felt like a crazy person. I couldn’t understand what was happening or why I was feeling this way. That’s when I finally made the doctor’s appointment.

Part of me knew it was PPD and wanted help. The other part was hoping it wasn’t because even though it is something that is completely out of your control, I felt like a failure. I wanted to be able to just snap out of it. I didn’t want to tell people I was suffering. I didn’t want a pity party. Why could the other moms handle it all? Why didn’t it seem like no one else was overwhelmed? I felt alone and humiliated.

That’s why I decided to start this blog. I’m trying to open the dialogue between moms and reach out to anyone else that feels overwhelmed or feels like something just isn’t right. I want others to know that it’s ok to feel that way and it’s ok to ask for help. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. And even though we can go to playgroups and make cookies and put smiles on our faces doesn’t mean that there isn’t more going on behind the scenes. And it doesn’t mean that that little bitch isn’t just waiting for her chance to pop back in. The more we talk about it, the less of a chance she has.