Open Windows: A Story of Postpartum Anxiety and Depression
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June, a young attorney turned work at home mother must battle with the sudden and paralyzing symptoms of an unforgiving illness that affects one in every ten new mothers. She is confronted with a once secret but devastating condition. A disorder that attacks and threatens to break the strongest human bond on earth: the bond between mother and child.
From pregnancy to the hell that is postpartum depression and anxiety, June discloses intimate detail from her journal, medical records and family history. Amidst the savage depression and crushing panic attacks, she finds strength and solace in family, the art of storytelling and the mystery of faith.
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Open Windows - June L. Young
Open Windows
A story of postpartum anxiety and depression
June L. Young
IF YOU ARE EXPERIENCING A LIFE-THREATENING EMERGENCY, GET IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE BY CALLING 9-1-1.
This book is not intended as a substitute for the medical advice of a physician. Dear reader, please regularly consult a physician in matters relating to your health and particularly with respect to any symptoms that may require diagnosis or medical attention. Refer to the Resources section at the very end of this book for additional information and referrals for support and medical help.
I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain anonymity, in some instances I have changed the names of individuals and places, and I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence.
Copyright © 2016 by June Linh Young
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover image copyright © depositphotos.com/Malgorzata_Kistryn
Contact the author at junelinhyoung@gmail.com
Editing by Deborah Lott
For Mom
Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION
Part 1: PREGNANCY
Part 2: BIRTH
Part 3: POSTPARTUM
Part 4: THE STORM
Part 5: HEALING
Part 6: FAITH, HOPE, LOVE
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
DEFINITIONS
NOTES
RESOURCES
INTRODUCTION
I am not a doctor, a psychologist, a spiritual leader, or a high profile anyone. I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am a survivor of perinatal mood disorders. When I was ill, I made a promise in my deepest and darkest moments that once I was able I would write about my experience as a way of reaching out to other women. To cry out, You’re not alone. It’s not your fault. And there is hope.
My writing project stemmed from an intense desire to help other women in similar circumstances as my own. In the end it became so much more for me, writing became more than an exercise of sheer will, it became a means of healing for me.
As I write this note, it is 2016 and perinatal mood disorders are still not widely known or understood by the general public. Even the medical community is grappling to fully understand them and develop effective treatments. In this story I use Postpartum Support International’s definition of the term perinatal which refers to the entire period from pregnancy to the baby’s first birthday. Postpartum refers only to the period after childbirth. The term perinatal mood disorders is more inclusive of the wide range of symptoms I experienced during my pregnancy and postpartum, compared to the term postpartum depression with which many people are already familiar. In fact, for many women, the problems start long before the baby is born, and worsen, or fail to resolve, afterward.
Perinatal mood disorders can occur during pregnancy and/or after childbirth and may include depression, anxiety, panic disorders, obsessive compulsive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorders, bipolar mood disorders, and psychosis. I am not a medical expert; a glossary of terms is provided in the back of this book for reference only. I encourage you to find an informed medical professional to thoroughly answer all your medical and treatment questions, and I have included a list of organizations that may be able to help you find an informed medical professional.
During my first pregnancy with my daughter Anabelle, my husband Charlie and I took all the baby preparation classes which included information about the baby blues and postpartum depression. I don’t remember ever hearing the term perinatal mood disorders or any discussion of the fact that depression isn’t the only problem. Anxiety and panic disorders, like my own, can strike during pregnancy and continue after childbirth.
My story is a reflection of my personal experience, thoughts, and decisions during this period of perinatal distress. It is in the form of a journal I kept as I went through the experience. I’ve gone back through this journal and fleshed it out so that it tells a more complete story of my experience. I’ve also relied on my medical records and personal calendar.
My story starts the moment I found out I was pregnant with my second child. People say no pregnancy is the same as another, even for the same woman. My second pregnancy felt different from the beginning, and there were early signs I wasn’t doing well. Pre-pregnancy I would describe myself as a sensitive person with generalized anxiety. My condition was never officially diagnosed, nor was I ever treated with any therapy or medication since I learned to be productive with it and accepted it as part of my daily life. Though from the beginning of my second pregnancy, I felt very emotional, ultra-sensitive, and often overwhelmed with anxiety. I interpreted these feelings as typical symptoms of a pregnant woman. In hindsight, I wish I had taken these signs more seriously. Instead I dismissed them as the result of hormonal changes that would pass. I brushed them aside because I had too much to do.
Since completing undergraduate school, I had been focused on work and meeting certain goals I’d set for myself. At some point in my ho-hum life, I chose a road I thought would lead me to success, and the toll was to put my dreams and imagination on hold. This path was drawn out for me as a child by my parents, grandparents, aunties and uncles; it was a path too narrow and straight for any frivolity. So I went to college where one of my greatest achievements was meeting my future husband, then attended law school, studied and passed the bar to obtain my license to practice law so I could make lots of money to buy the house, have children, raise the family, and live the happy American dream. In this pursuit of happiness
I was like a machine, pushing myself to do it all, and do it exactly right. I set the parameters, worked hard, and then just let my life run on autopilot. On this pragmatic path, I found some happiness, but after a few years I realized the occasional moments of happiness didn’t seem to justify the sacrifices in self-fulfillment I’d made along the way. I thought I would be happier if I could make everyone around me happy which proved to be an exhausting task. Instead of contentment my days and nights were riddled with melancholy over a strained personal life and anxiety about my inadequacies at my all-consuming job.
So after the birth of my first child, Anabelle, I made the decision to quit my full-time job as an attorney and be a work- at-home mom. My mom had stayed at home to raise me and my sister, and I wanted to be like her so I thought I needed to be at home too. It wasn’t a difficult decision for me because I didn’t closely identify with being an attorney. I considered myself good at what I did, not exceptional. I was valuable to my colleagues and employers because I was amiable and a good worker bee.
Being a work-at-home mom meant being Mommy when my little one was awake then attorney when she was napping or sleeping at night. I became a contract attorney so I could choose projects that were not too time consuming or time sensitive. On the rare occasion I had to go to court, my mom helped with childcare. It was a very precarious balance that worked well enough so long as everyone was healthy, cooperative, and patient. Needless to say, I was setting myself up for a hard fall. When I found out I was pregnant with my second child, what little health and patience I had left at the end of the day was spent nurturing the growing baby inside me. Each of the responsibilities I’d taken on and the standards I’d set for myself all proved to be too much. I wish I had known the storm waiting ahead for me. Looking back from where I am now, I probably could not have avoided it, but I wish I had been more prepared. But critiquing the past is always easier than living through it.
After I quit my full time job to have and raise my children, I followed up with a mental breakdown. As bizarre and irrational as it may sound, my mental health crisis, illness, whatever you want to call it, was a good thing for me. I now realize that I needed something to interrupt my journey, to shake me up and remind me of what really mattered to me in life. After I lost my mind I began a long journey in search of it. And like with many lost things, in my search I found other things I wasn’t looking for like a deeper and more honest relationship with my mom, a dry soul thirsting for spiritual renewal, a new way of loving my husband and children freely, with fewer demands, less restraint.
I am better now. I am more myself than I could have imagined. When I wasn’t well I feared I would lose myself, that the real me would be destroyed by the non-stop craziness in my head. Fortunately, I found help fairly quickly and my perinatal distress didn’t touch the inner person, the real me. In truth, it forced me to explore part of me that had long been suppressed and ignored - a part of me full of faith, hope, and love. I learned how to love life again. I also learned that it was okay to have such intense emotions and important for me to express them.
I am not an advocate for any specific medication, therapy, or form of support group. There is no single answer that works for everyone. I relied on my healthcare provider’s expertise and her three-pronged approach of: (1) medication and cognitive behavioral therapy; (2) exercise and sleep; and (3) diet. I added my own essential fourth prong of faith and spirituality. My experience has made me a believer in informed decision making, compassionate professional care, and unconditional support for mothers suffering from perinatal mood disorders.
Things may not work out exactly as you planned; it likely will not. When I was struggling most, a survivor of perinatal mood disorders told me, I promise you, it will be better. I promise you will feel joy again. I promise you will be yourself again.
I tried to hold on to that promise, which I now share with you. Perinatal mood disorders are treatable. Please keep finding hope in living every day and hold fast to the truth that you will be well again.
Part 1:
PREGNANCY
Family Discussion on Pregnancy
GRANDMA: I’m so happy for you sweetheart. Now remember not to overreach or tip toe.
AUNT: And each morning before you get out of bed use your fist to pat the middle of your back three times and then massage in a circular motion.
MOM: Remember don’t eat any crabs or the child will be grabby and all over the place.
GRANDMA: And honey, try to have a boy, if you can.
ME: Ok, I will try my best.
First Trimester
July 2013
In a span of two weeks my one and only sister got happily hitched to the love of her life, my mom underwent a major abdominal surgery, and to help, I moved into my parents’ home with my daughter Anabelle while my husband Charlie remained in our home an hour’s drive away. Oh, and I found out I was pregnant. It was a busy two weeks.
First to happen was my sister’s wedding. It was a beautifully balanced mélange of Vietnamese, Chinese, Buddhist, Egyptian, and Eastern Orthodox cultures and faiths. My sister was stunning in her wedding gown and radiant with joy while my new brother-in-law was beaming with love and intense eagerness for the day’s events to be complete. As for me, I was not the maid of honor or bridesmaid, but not because my sister didn’t want me to be. In the utmost matter-of-fact fashion, my mom told us she needed my help during the wedding which meant I couldn’t just stand around and look pretty for pictures. I was not saddened or surprised at all about my mom’s decree; instead I took my gofer duties seriously and with honor just like my sister had in my wedding.
Then three days after the wedding my mom was wheeled into the operating room for major abdominal surgery. She had been very ill for the latter part of 2012 and most of 2013. Her doctor recommended surgery as her best option. Post-operatively, the surgeon described it as a textbook surgery; everything that needed to be removed had been removed, and my mom’s abdomen was stapled neatly back into place. She was released from the hospital after about two days to recuperate at home. She had never had surgery before so this was a big deal for her. It was a big deal for all of us.
My husband Charlie and I decided to rearrange our living situation so I could help care for my mom. My parents’ home was about one hour away from ours, so Charlie and I decided it would be best for me and Anabelle to move in with my parents for a few weeks instead of my having to drive back and forth. My sister lived nearer to my parents, but since she had just been married, she had immediate honeymoon plans following our mom’s surgery. She was going to cancel the travel plans, but we demanded she go and not worry too much. Mom’s surgery was considered routine to her surgeon. Besides, she had cared for mom for months before the surgery, and it was my turn to step up. It all worked out neatly enough since my current employer, my daughter Anabelle, wouldn't mind at all if we stayed at grandma’s for a spell. So for about three weeks, Anabelle and I lived mostly at my parents’ home and slept in my childhood bedroom. As for Charlie, he visited us after work as much as traffic and stamina would allow.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Once my sister returned from her honeymoon, she relieved me of my post by staying with mom for a short while, so Charlie, Anabelle, and I could return to our