HELP!!

Eight years ago on Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, I hit a wall.  I was pregnant with Lizzie and something was wrong.  I had everything to be happy and excited about - two beautiful boys, a loving husband, and little girl on the way.  But, I couldn't stop crying.  Every thing seemed too big for me to handle.  Laundry?  Forget about it?  Dishes?  I will get those tomorrow.  The water pipes freezing finally put me over the edge that cold morning.

Luckily, I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for that day.  The doctor took one look at me, pulled up a chair and started talking to me.  After a long discussion she said she believed I was experiencing depression.  Lucky me - I was one of the 12-14% of women who experience depression DURING pregnancy.

I called a good friend and said, between sobs, "I need help."  Then I called my mother-in-law and, again between sobs, said, "I can't do this anymore."    Brian was busy with work.  He was working extremely long hours as it was the beginning of the semester at U of I.  My friends and family rallied.  My mother-in-law's flexible schedule allowed her to come stay with us for a week.  Friends brought food and had the kids over for play dates.  My family in Indiana checked on me all the time.

Finally, the medicine and techniques my doctor prescribed for me began to work.  I began to function again!  I did my laundry.  I made a meal.  I caught a mouse in the house and I didn't crumple.  Well, I did scream loudly and demand Brian take care of it (I HATE mice).  However, it did not put me over the edge.  I began to feel human again.

This may seem a weird post for this blog.  Am I thankful for that event?  No, not really.  I was embarrassed.  Ashamed.  What in the world was wrong with me?

But, I am thankful for those who have shared their stories through books, blogs, articles, and face to face.  Those people have helped me realize that what I experienced is nothing that I have to hide.  Nothing to be ashamed of.

If there is one thing I regret about that time, it is that I didn't share with more people.  I had close friends who didn't know how poorly I felt.  I hid it from them.  I wish I had shared with them.  So, those who WERE brave enough to share their stories, THANK YOU!  Thank you for exposing  yourself in your writings and speaking so that I could experience freedom from the embarrassment and shame I carried.