Letters of Light
I knew something was wrong the minute I didn’t hear my baby cry. He was purple and not breathing well. My doctor assured me he was fine, but the NICU team was silent and from the looks they were giving each other I knew that things were getting worse. I asked my husband, Travis (Trav) to go to the NICU with our fourth baby, Isaac.
Two minutes after Trav left I felt the worst pain I had ever felt in my whole life. My doctor jumped up and kept saying, “Oh no, oh no!” I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was I was alone, and I thought I was dying. I remember just looking up in the bright lights of the delivery room and praying in my mind, “Heavenly Father, help me.” My doctor was so amazed that I didn’t hemorrhage. I had experienced a uterine inversion.
We saw miracles with Isaac and my healing. Isaac’s lung tears healed in 6 hours. He only stayed in the NICU for 48 hours. Doctors and nurses kept telling us, “Wow, I have never seen a baby as sick as he was leave the hospital in 48 hours.”
Things were great until 8 weeks later, that is when the postpartum depression hit like a freight train. I always experienced a little bit of postpartum depression with all my babies, but this time it was very different and so, so bad. I felt like I was living in a fog. Every chore I had to do for the baby or for my other children or even for myself was just so hard. Many times at night I would just lay there unable to sleep while everyone else around me was fast asleep. I was in a constant state of anxiety that made me feel like I felt like I couldn’t move. I kept telling Trav how overwhelmed I felt. I went to my OB and he gave me a different anti depressant I had been on Zoloft during my pregnancy up until 36 weeks and then after delivery in the hospital I started my Zoloft again. This new anti depressant made my anxiety through the roof to the point of panic attacks. I went back got another type of medicine, still didn’t work. I felt like I was drowning. My husband had been trying for weeks to get me into a psychiatrist, but the availability of psychiatrists were very small and waiting times were weeks to months.
My parents were on a mission in the Philippines and we would video chat frequently and I would just cry and cry telling them how badly I needed to see a psychiatrist, but there were none available in our area (my family doctor said this was beyond her scope of practice and I needed to see a psychiatrist). I was so blessed that another couple that was serving with my parents in the Manila Temple, the husband was a psychiatrist from Utah. This sweet man video chatted me and talked with me and told me which medicine he thought would work best for me. My parents flew all the way from the Philippines to come help me. While at the psychiatrists with my dad, who is a psychologist, we found out I am resistant to SSRIs (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors), I was prescribed a different type of medicine, an SSNRI (selective serotonin norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor), Cymbalta. It worked almost immediately. I felt like the fog was finally lifted, it was like I finally “woke up” after two months of just feeling awful. Cymbalta, along with weeks of counseling has helped me so much.
Medicine is such a blessing. I am so grateful for my parents and my siblings who fasted and prayed for me. The biggest thing that I learned from all of this is the Lord loves us so much. He is with us during the good, and especially during the hard times. He will let us feel certain emotions and have different trials, but He will NEVER leave us alone. Please if any of you are silently suffering, PLEASE get help. Getting help does not mean you are crazy, or you aren’t a good Mom. If a medicine doesn’t seem to be working, find another one. My Dad says finding the right medicine is like dating, don’t stop until you find the right one. Being on medicine does not mean you are weak, or less than. We are all human and will need different medications through out life.
You ARE loved. You ARE wanted. You ARE enough.