When you hit rock bottom, you do what you have to do to get back up............

9/16/16

Have you ever felt so alone you didn't know where to turn? Have you ever had thoughts that you couldn't control, no matter how hard you tried? Have you ever felt so low, even though you KNOW your thoughts don't make sense, you can't get up from that low?

I have.

This is my story, of the worst weekend of my life.

A little background. I've suffered from depression off and on for years. I've always felt ashamed by it, and self weaned myself off of antidepressants after feeling better for a couple of months. I've tried to take control of my depression by myself, instead of getting the help I needed. The hard part is, if I'm feeling ok, or going out in public, I have a pretty easy time faking that I'm happy. I can shove my feelings down for a few hours so people don't notice. But the fact is, the second I get home, alone, with my kids, those horrible emotions take control, and often I lose control of everything.

A couple weeks ago, I started forgetting to take my Prozac off and on. I thought I was feeling ok, and was starting to worry about breast feeding on Prozac, so decided I could probably skip a few days off and on until I weaned myself off of my medicine. I'm 36 weeks pregnant, and miserable. I've never experienced such pain in my life, and it's ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT. So, it's hard to get off my butt and do much, because the more I do, the more pain I'm in, which leads to me being more depressed. It's this vicious cycle of sleep, lay down, cry, feel guilty, pain, etc. It's been awful.  And I know all I do is complain about it to all of my friends and family, so they have got to be SO sick of it.

Thursday my feet swelled SO big I could barely walk. My entire legs hurt up to my knees. The bones in my ankles and feet had completely disappeared. I had also had some major pain and nausea that day, along with a slight headache. I called my doctor, and they told me to keep my feet up for 24 hours above my head. I lost it. Do you know how hard and uncomfortable that is to do? Let alone with 2 toddlers? I broke down. I was SO sick of being pregnant. Here’s the thing… I understand I’m extremely lucky that I’ve been able to be pregnant three times. I’m not comparing my pains and suffering with anyone else’s pains and problems. But that doesn’t change one fact. I HATED being pregnant. 

I started crying and couldn’t stop. I laid in bed, and didn’t move. I cried and sulked and cried and sulked. I was miserable. My feet ached, my back and pelvis hurt, and I just wanted this baby out.

Friday morning came, and I was still miserable. I still couldn’t stop crying. I kept going lower and lower in my self pity party. My kids deserved a better mom. They didn’t deserve to see me like this. Then around noon, I realized not ONE of my friends or family had even checked on me to see how I was doing (including my husband). It made me cry harder. Then, I had a realization: Why would anyone check on me? Nobody cared about me. Nobody loved me. How could they? I mean, all I ever did was complain. Do you have those people in your life that just DRAG you down because they constantly complain? I realized… I was THAT friend.

This realization made me cry and cry even more. This is where my story gets scary. And it is hard to admit what happened.

I started googling. I started having very very very terrifying thoughts. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if I could just get in a car crash, so I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore?” 

“How can I break my own water with a crochet stick?”

“What drugs can I take to force myself into a coma so I don’t have to feel the rest of this pregnancy?” 

And other scary thoughts. Then, I was lucky. I realized that these thoughts were NOT ok. I called my OBGYN immediately. I was hoping to talk to her about how I was feeling, and maybe getting some pain medicine, or up my dosage of my anti depressants. 

This was at 2PM.

At 2:12 PM, Hubby called to check in on me and my swollen feet. I tried to hide that I had been crying, but of course he read right through me. He came straight home from work.

While I appreciated this, it also made me scared. I was still having these thoughts. And as much as my husband loved me, he doesn’t know how to deal with depression. He doesn’t know how to deal with me when I’m down. He gets irritated if I don’t respond correctly, or if I don’t act excited about something, or if I ask him to do something for me, because he already does a lot around the house.  He got home, and the kids were fighting upstairs, while he tried to help by cleaning our bathroom. Of course, I just wanted to scream at the kids to SHUT UP, hide in a dark hole, and never come out.

At 5 PM I still hadn’t heard from my OBGYN. I knew that she was the doctor on call, so decided to call her emergency line. I was so scared to admit what I was feeling, but I was also so scared that I would get into a deeper hole, and do something to harm myself or my baby.

She immediately called me back, and told me I was doing the right thing. She told me no-one would take away my kids. But, I needed to go straight to the ER. I had my best friend take me, because I was too ashamed to have my husband take me.

I showed up to the ER feeling scared, ashamed, guilty, and stupid. I checked in, and saw a nurse. The nurse had me pee in a cup, and took some bloodwork. She asked me some “do you feel safe, have you ever tried to commit suicide, etc” questions. I answered them all honestly. The ER doctor came in about an hour later, and was in my room for a total of 2 minutes. He listened to my heart and asked if I was in pain. Then left. Nobody checked on the baby, nobody told me the plan, and I was left in a small, white room. 3 hours after the doctor left, I was really starting to get irritated. At this point, hubby had switched places with my best friend. I went out into the hall, to try to get a nurse’s attention. She immediately threw her finger in the air, didn’t look up at me, and said “hold on”.

Of course, the mental state I was in, I immediately started crying again. Nobody cared about me or my baby at this hospital. I had asked for Tylenol for my pain almost 3 hours ago, and had gotten NOTHING. I hadn’t heard about my lab results, or even had someone just stick their head in to ask if I was doing ok.

About 45 minutes later, that same rude nurse, came in and just started saying “Allen denied you”… I had NO idea what she was talking about. Who is Allen? And what is she even talking about? I told her I had NO idea what she was saying, that I had no idea what was going on and she rudely left saying she would grab the doctor.

Another 45 minutes, the rude ER doctor came in and explained that the psych ward at this hospital was full. He called Allen, and they wouldn’t admit me because I was pregnant. But, the hospital out in Dallas would take me impatient, in their psych ward. I told him I wasn’t comfortable going 40 minutes away to a hospital that my OBGYN didn’t work at. I wanted him to call my OB and find out her thoughts on everything. I was 36 weeks pregnant, scared, and humiliated. He told me he wouldn’t call my doctor, because the baby isn’t going to come yet.

EXCUSE ME?

How the heck did he know that the baby wasn’t going to come? He hadn’t even made sure the baby was moving, had a heartbeat, or asked about my pregnancy history. I have had both babies at 38 weeks, and have had SUCH a hard pregnancy this time, my doctor thinks he's coming even earlier. I was crying my eyes out, trying to explain all of my feelings about this to him, when he got a phone call, and LEFT MY ROOM.

At this point, I was PISSED. I had been in an ER for almost 6 hours, been treated like dirt, and no one would even consult my OBGYN. It was 1 in the morning, and I decided to just go home. I would call a therapist the next week, and start seeing someone about my depression. My husband agreed, and took me home.

An hour after we left, I got a phone call from the hospital. 

“Excuse me is this Chelsy? When did you leave?”

It took them an hour to notice I had walked out?! What an unorganized ER.

They tried to convince me to come back to the hospital, but I told them I felt mistreated, and was home and safe with my husband. We argued, and the man on the phone kept cutting me off. Saying he was “worried” about my safety. Yet, he wouldn’t let me talk. 

The next thing I knew, the Police were at our door. 

I started hyperventilating. POLICE?! I felt so ashamed and so stupid. We let them in, and they sat down and talked to us. They said that the hospital is worried about my safety, and I needed to go back in. They wouldn’t leave until I called my OBGYN, let her know what was happening, called someone to come and watch the kids, and got in the car. So, off we went to the Dallas hospital.

We checked into the ER there, and they immediately checked the baby. They got me checked in, talked to me, and up to the psych unit within an hour. They were SO much nicer than the first hospital. But, here’s where I started to lose it… checking in. They made me say goodbye to Greg, and gave him my phone. They wheeled me into a small room alone with the nurse.

They immediately made me get undressed and into a robe. They didn’t let me keep my pants on, because there was a string attached to them. (I found it ironic though because hello, the robe they gave me had 3 strings!) They took every single thing out of my purse, took pictures of it, and locked it into a locker. They had me speak with a social worker, to decide where I should stay. She gave me a private room, and I finally got into bed around 6 in the morning. I got little to no sleep for the next 2 hours, because they literally came in and checked on me every 15 minutes. (In a room with no door…)

Finally around 9, they made me come out and eat breakfast. I walked out and looked at the other patients in the hospital with me. There were two that I came by. One was a schizophrenic older male, who immediately came up to me and yelled in my face. Another was a sweet, old lady, who immediately sat down with me at breakfast, and started telling me all the ways she's tried to kill herself.

I ate as much as I could with my head down, tears streaming down my face. I was terrified. I felt like I didn’t belong. I was scared for my safety. I hadn’t had a nurse, social worker, or anyone talk to me. I had never felt more alone.  I did end up finding my social worker, and PLEAD to please let me out. She told me that she couldn’t do that, but she could transfer me to the other side of the hospital. That there are more “minor” cases there, and I would probably fit in better. The reason I didn’t go in there in the first place is because they thought I should have my own room. So, I was transferred, and had a sweet roommate, who didn’t speak much, and stayed out of my way. I immediately felt better on that side of the hospital.

At this point, I hadn’t even told my parents that I was in the hospital. I was so ashamed, and knew they were in Utah, having dinner with my younger brother. I didn’t want to ruin their trip, so kept it from them for over 24 hours. (They did eventually find out, because my mom got suspicious since I wasn’t answering my phone or texts for so long).

That day, a flip switched. I realized, that I couldn’t change where I was, or what had happened. I could only fix myself. For my husband and kids. And for me. So, I started to try to heal. I concentrated on what I needed. On the group sessions, the activities, and the individual counseling sessions. I also asked for some sleeping medicine, and slept A LOT. I think my body needed that sleep. Needed to reset.

After three days of working hard, getting my medicine on track, and fixing my brain, I was released. I had an OBGYN apt the next day, and I was SO embarrassed to see my OB. She walked in, and immediately hugged me, and said how glad she was to see me there. And how proud of me she was. My embarrassment changed to gratitude. I was so grateful for her at that moment. She knew what I needed, and didn’t make me feel bad for needing it. She also told me, that I shouldn’t be ashamed that I’m on medicine. There is a chemical imbalance in my brain, and the medicine FIXES that. It breaks my heart to hear people who are so embarrassed about being on anti depressants. If your doctor diagnosed you with asthma, you would use your inhaler am I right? Well, tell me, what’s the difference? Depression is a scary thing. It’s real. It’s NOT made up. And I had to hit ROCK BOTTOM to realize that. 

I ended up getting induced at 37 weeks because of my awesome OB. She fought with the hospital, and knew for my mental health, we needed to get him out. Then she monitored me VERY closely for any other symptoms of ppd. Luckily, I didn’t have to change any of my medicine, and I was lucky enough to immediately bond with my baby, and have an amazing first year with him. 

Over the last 18 months, I have heard of several friends who have had similar situations as I did with their mental health. And I want them to know, that I’m here if you ever need to chat. I will not judge, will not laugh, and will try my best to help. It’s ok to need help. It’s ok to feel sad. It’s ok to be down. Sometimes we NEED some help to get up again. 

Chelsy