Happy(?) belated mother’s day

For mother’s day, PostpartumProgress.org posted a letter to new moms each hour.  I love this idea and these letters. I’m posting my letter to new moms here. Of course, I’m late because …what is time anyway…“It’s always tea-time.” 

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Dear new mom,

Hi sweetheart. I know that we haven’t met or haven’t spoken much but I love you. Your struggle, whatever shape that takes, is valid and all too real. Becoming a mother doesn’t come easily to anyone (no matter what they say).

Two years ago I sat down in a postpartum depression support group and as we went around the circle introducing ourselves, one beautiful mom recited her typical script and said “Hi! I’m A and this is my baby E. She’s six months old and everything is going really well!” Then she looked around the room at the two psychiatrists and the rest of us with our tired eyes and added, “Well, I guess things could be better…”

The mask that we often wear when we talk to other mothers is a huge barrier to getting support. If we had met in the park, we never would have known how much we really had in common, and how much we could help one another.

So on this mother’s day, my advice to you is this: be open.

Be open with other moms that you meet about how hard it is to become a mom. They will empathize.

Be open with your loved ones. They will help you.

Be open with your bathroom door (not like you’ll have a choice).

And most importantly, be open with yourself.

Becoming a mother was the most transformative experience I have ever had. I will carry the scars forever (both physical scars and my new diagnosis of bipolar II). But I will also carry the pride that I faced the biggest challenges that my life could throw at me and am coming out the other side. And every time that I dance with my beautiful 4 year old and 2.5 year old, I feel thankful that I took every resource that I could find (including postpartumprogress.org and ppdtojoy.com) and fought against the demons.

Just like the pain of weight lifting (kegels) gives you the reward of stronger (bladder control) muscles, the pain of my postpartum and antenatal depression and anxiety is making me a stronger person and a much better mother than I ever would have been.

It took me over a year to realize that there was anything wrong with how anxious I was feeling after my oldest daughter was born. I was not listening to myself. I was not open with myself. And I was not open to others telling me that something seemed off… until I had no choice but to face it.

When you become a mother, some people will say that your heart opens up and flows out of your pores. I think that for me, it felt more like my heart opened up and exploded all over my face.

Please try to be kind to yourself. I know that it seems impossible. Just try to try.

With love,

Lyla

me and my baby

What bipolar feels like

In my recent obsessive googling session on bipolar, I came across this really powerful clip of a woman named Sascha describing what it feels like to have bipolar.

(If the pretentious hat irritates you, feel free to fast forward the introduction by the guy in the hat.)

I transcribed her explanation in case you can’t be assed to watch the video. (I’m nice like that). Here is what she says:

I think bipolar is like being in a boat. On an ocean. By yourself.
There’s other people but they’re all on their own boats doing their own things.
But you’re in this boat on this ocean
And in one hand, you hold the chain to an anchor
And in the other hand, you hold the strings to a kite.
The kite is the mania
And the anchor is the depression.
And your job is to keep the kite from flying you away and
Keep the anchor from bringing you all the way down to the bottom of the ocean.
So, being bipolar is this fine balancing act of keeping yourself afloat in a boat.
With the kite string here…and the anchor here
And you’ve got to hold them really strong and really tight.

This clip is from a documentary called up/down. I watched the full documentary for free here. It’s a bit slow but I think it is worth watching the whole way through.

I found this because I was looking for a way to help my family (and me) understand what this diagnosis means. If you have any more helpful videos or articles, please let me know.

Smithers, my heart is pounding like a jack hammer

It is widely known that people say weird things. (Not me, other people).

But today I finally understood what it means to say that something “warms your heart”. It’s amazing to actually feel my heart. (Last week I could feel my uterus but it just gave my a sucker punch..) It’s like the ice encasement protecting my heart is finally starting to melt.

Every Saturday morning I take my daughter to dance class and watch her stand still for 30 minutes. Through my detective skills, I’ve determined that she doesn’t dance in class (or to the same music at home) because she can’t do it perfectly and is a bit embarrassed and because she doesn’t understand that you have to suck at something before you can get good at it. Both clearly (in my mind) a direct result of backwards lessons taught by her crazy mother.

Every week that goes by without her dancing just makes me think about how hard my mental illness has been on her.
(Obviously, she is the only four year old to ever be shy in dance class.)

Yesterday, halfway through, I got fed up watching her stand there and jumped up and started dancing with them. I know that I’ve been singing praises about my ballet progress but in between the skinny teenage dance teachers and the four year olds, I looked RIDICULOUS.

Soni was totally surprised and tried to hold my hand so I would stand with her but I just smiled and galloped away across the room.

I wasn’t quite sure if my stunt was going to have any effect at all. (Other than giving the other parents a good laugh.)

But then… (Drumroll…)Today, she walked into the kitchen singing the song from dance class! Then, she asked if I could put on the practice video of her dance teacher doing the dances.

Then… She DANCED!! My little girl danced! With a huge smile on her face!!
Then she danced again! I’m tearing up just remembering.

I can’t even describe how happy and overflowing this made me. I actually felt my heart warming and about to burst.

My psychiatrist asked me this week if I’ve been enjoying my kids. And I honestly said, yes. So much.

The last three weeks, I have been up and down and illiterate and brilliant and exhausted and insomniac… But I have definitely been enjoying my children.

I’m actually pretty proud of that answer.