Friday, April 23, 2010

The emotial and metal demons I dealt with.

Ok. Today is the day that I get into my own emotional/ mental demons. This is something that most people do not want to talk about; are afraid to ask about; or think that maybe they are weak in some way if they do. I, on the other hand feel that it is both necessary and makes the individual stronger rather than weaker. So, here goes!

R and I went back home when R got to the point that she couldn't’t stand to be around K and G anymore. This wasn’t out of anger I don’t think. She just simply wanted to go home. One night, G reached out to try and hug R. R went as stiff as a board and ran in the opposite direction. I knew then that my time was up at K and G’s. R cried because she wanted to go home and I cried because of the dread of the memories and because I saw my daughter in emotional pain. Nothing can take a stab to a mother’s heart like that and it’s one that I will probably never forget.

Leading up to going back home, I had R sleep in her “big girl” room instead of the one that she was in that night. I was afraid that if she went back to her old room, she would have nightmares of that officer coming into her room and waking her up. Donovan and I had talked to R about her “big girl” room before and I had slowly started to move her things into there so going back home was no bid deal for her but it was for me (I found out very quickly).

About a week after we went back home, I started feeling kinda nervous around sunset or suppertime and found myself watching for Donovan to come home from work and knowing that he never would. So, to ease the nervousness, I would get R in the car and we would just drive somewhere, anywhere until the sun had gone down. Once it was dark, I was fine and not nervous but I knew that that feeling wasn’t normal but difficult to explain to anyone. At first I thought the nervousness was just “back home jitters” but, as the weeks wore on, the feeling didn’t ease up but got worse.

Two or three weeks later, I was literally wanting to climb the walls around sunset and feeling very panicky. That was when I called my OBGYN and asked for an appointment to get some relief. I got in the next day and he prescribed something (and for the life of me, I can’t think of what it was now… sorry). My biggest concern with taking any kind of medication was the effect it would have on the baby but I was reassured that it wouldn’t affect him at all. The medicine worked great for about 2 days and then I started wanting to climb the walls again (literally). Not only did I want to climb the walls but I felt that my brain was split in half. I would see a lamp pole and think “Hey, lamp! Why not run into it!” Then the other half of me would argue that that was not a good idea and just to keep focused on the car in front of me.

At this point in time, I was thankful for getting a degree in social work and knowing what the stages (or signs) of serious depression were. I called K and G and told them that we were going to be spending some time at their house again for awhile. R didn’t like it at all so we were home during the day and at K and G’s at night. Called the MD again and was giving a different drug. That worked for about 3 weeks but we stayed at K and G’s during that time.

As the time got closer to the baby being born, it got more difficult for me. I was scared that I wouldn’t love the baby; scared that he would look just like Donovan; scared that the meds would mess him up mentally or physically or just that something would go terribly wrong. Some times, I would tell G of this and she would whip out some scriptures of how Satan will try anything to get us to fail and boy was he having fun with me! I knew that I couldn’t get through without God’s help and lots of prayers from family and friends.

On February 3, 2009, I called the MD and told him that the meds weren’t working anymore. He told me we could try something else. I was tired of having a battle going on mentally and emotionally and I didn’t want to “try” anything else. I was admitted to Baylor of Dallas on the 4th and had a physiologists come in and do an evaluation. I tried to go through everything again (I had to answer the same type of questions for the admitting nurse) but couldn’t so K had to answer some questions for me. The psychologist told him (and I) that I was on the verge of a total collapse (No! really?!?) and that I had post traumatic stress disorder, depression, and anxiety. He then prescribed (I think) was Zoloft and something else. He said that it would affect the baby slightly in that he would be very very drowsy once he was born but would be back to normal the next day.

I was induced on the 5th at 8:30 am and James was born 4 hours later. Just in time for lunch! He is now a very happy, healthy, and inquisitive little one year old who loves his sister very much and is into everything.

More to follow!

1 comment:

  1. Carrie, I'm very glad you started this blog. Partly for my own morbid curiosity, but mostly because I am sure it is therapeutic for you.
    Know that I pray for you and your children every time I think of you (which is often) and every time I read your blog.
    Love you.