Baby Boy #2, Postpartum Depression, then a Miscarriage...

After our infertility struggles with our first child we were unsure how things would go in conceiving more children. We were in the middle of building our house so we weren't too worried about it right then. We had closed in the garage at my parents house while we built and were living there at the time. Levi was 9 months old. I was in the new kitchen painting when I realized I didn't want to eat that second snack bag of Doritos which was totally unusual- that was the red flag! I kinda felt yucky and started doing the calendar math. Took a dollar store prego test and there it was -SURPRISE!!!! Baby #2 was on the way.

We were beyond thrilled. I told my parents and my in-laws and we all surprised my husband at dinner that night. It was very exciting...for about a week.... everything was great....then it wasn't. Again with the spotting, the straight up bleeding, then bed rest, progesterone, lots of ultrasounds and scary pregnancy limbo. Eventually it all leveled out and got better and I was able to carry on as a swollen miserable but grateful and excited pregnant mommy.

[I was starting to mess around with guitar and singing at this time, just dabbling and trying to get over some nerves...]

I was very, very swollen. I had an excessive amount of fluid so I measured way large as if I was carrying twins ...but it was just one. At my 38 week appt I begged the Dr to please, please, please put me out of my misery and take this baby today! I left crying when he said no we had to wait another week. When I went back the next week the nurse said when the people from the waiting room came back there they asked if everything was ok with me and my baby because I was crying so much. She laughed and said "oh yes they are fine she's just giant and miserable!' It was only a little bit funny at the time!

Micah was born in September. They were out of rooms and beds at the hospital because September is a VERY popular baby month. Women were literally laboring in the hall ways. It was pretty crazy.

We got him home and all seemed well. 2 happy healthy boys. I was a lot more emotional this time though. Like a lot. I didn't know why or what was wrong but EVERYTHING was wrong...except everything was right. I was a mess most of the time. We didn't really understand because I didn't feel like this after my first baby. Micah had acid reflux and cried a lot more than my first one did and it was hard to know how to fix it, but I had plenty of family around to help me. I had a loving, sweet husband to take care of me and I was awful to him. There was no clear or obvious reason for me to feel so emotional and down.

We had no clue what postpartum depression truly was when I was in the middle of it. We knew something wasn't right, but we were uneducated about medicines, treatments, and therapies for something like this. Nothing "bad" had happened to me. Everything in life was good there was no reason for this, I was just being an ungrateful, crazy B, and brat...no one really said that, thats just how it felt.

A middle aged couple was visiting my parents one night and she was telling us her story about after she had her twins. How she felt and how she had to be treated for postpartum depression. She said some of the EXACT things I had been feeling the past few months since having my baby. She pin pointed it all perfectly. Somehow that revelation from my one conversation with this lady whom I have never seen again was life changing. It made me feel validated and not crazy. It made me see so clearly what had been so confusing. Just knowing it was "something" made it better.

In the midst of everything I was dealing with emotionally I got pregnant yet again. Only this time because I was already such an overwhelmed mess I cried, I cried a lot. I told my Mama I can't handle these 2 how can I take care of another one? I can't go on bed rest again...what if this one cries a ton too then what will I do? Why would God give me another one, he's not supposed to give us more than we can handle???? For the first couple of days I had a really hard time getting excited about another baby while I was so overwhelmed, but I was accepting the idea and knew we would love the adventure and find a way to make it work.

I started bleeding just like the first 2 pregnancies before. I did just the same as I did the other times progesterone, bed rest, etc. I also repented for being fearful of another baby. I thanked God for healing my body and helping it withstand another long 9 months and trusted him with the situation. This time was different though and I lost the baby. Miscarried. I had all those "threatened miscarriages" before, but this time it was for real. Here I had wanted kids so, so bad when I was dealing with the infertility for 4 years, I have 2 babies, then cry about being pregnant again, I accept it, now I'm crying because that baby is gone and I feel so very guilty.

I blamed myself like somehow my reaction to the news was the reason I lost the baby. Of course it wasn't but it was still hard to get over for a while.

This first bout with depression lasted about a year. Some of it is still a blur. I'm thankful for pictures that help me reflect on it as a joyful time. People don't often photograph the overwhelmed Mama in tears with the piles of laundry, messy kitchen and spit up on her clothes. So although I remember the frustrating confusing pain of my hormonal emo self, the story I see in albums is beautiful and my sweet baby's smile leaves that part out.

He is now almost double digits and one of the giggliest kids you could ever meet. He has his cute little chubby cheeks that of course he hates but they have always been there and are precious. He is his own trendsetter with his shaggy hair and gym clothes that may or may not have been washed recently. He loves football and would live outside if I would let him. He loves church and his family and friends. When I gave each of my kids their own copy of my first CD he asked if it was ok if he gave it to a little girl he liked. It meant so much to me because I thought how sweet it was that he felt like my music was a gift worth giving to his very first little crush. He was my first one to sing with me when he was 4 and I hope someday he will want to sing on his own..... but no pressure!! I want him to be exactly what God wants him to be. I love watching him grow and I love hearing that sweet little laugh.