I hope that this blog can be a vehicle for many things including laughter, a connection to others and a place to start conversations that are not always easy to engage in the day to day. Several posts ago, I gave an account of my experience in caring for Madda when she was a newborn. I mentioned my bout with Postpartum Depression and I would like to expand on that topic. At the risk of appearing to be a "Debbie Downer", this is a conversation that I would like to start and a serious issue that I would like to explore. The statistics on depression in women are staggering and the tiny bit of internet research that I have done does not paint a pretty picture.
According to medtv.com, it appears that 1 in 4 women will suffer from serious depression in her lifetime. This statistic is confusing to me because the same web site asserts that only 1 in 5 women actually seek treatment for their symptoms. Because only 1 in 5 is seeking treatment, does that mean that statistics related to depression in women are grossly underestimating the prevalence of such a disabling condition? Of course, the statistics obtained from sites like medtv.com, webmd.com and about.com are not always to be trusted. Nonetheless, I am certain that rates of depression among women are higher than any of us would like to see. Depression is often an incredibly lonely and isolating place. It is a source of shame and often seen as a weakness. Nonetheless, depression takes many forms and can occur in various phases of life, ignited by both external and internal functioning. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) calls depression various different names: Bipolar, Major Depression, Dysthymia, Postpartum Depression. Depression can manifest itself in many forms and women (or men) can experience anxiety, psychosis, hopelessness, intrusive thinking, anhedonia (the inability to experience pleasure), fatigue, loss of appetite, crying, withdrawal; The list goes on and on and on. Despite being so common, people shy away from discussing the symptoms, treatment and experience of depression because of shame and embarrassment. American society is not always easy on those who are seen as "weak." Although the commercials play on TV for various medications used to treat depression, we don't talk about it much outside of our Doctor's office or the occasional support group. Often the closest friends of those afflicted have no idea of the internal struggle going on. It is no surprise to me the depression is so common. Our society is a rat race. We feel compelled to measure up to scrutiny that is beyond that of mortal (wo)man. We are constantly reminded that we are not good enough by the media and the flood of images and ideas placed in our conscious and unconscious minds. Women, whether they are mothers, singles, marrieds, black, white or otherwise expect so much out of themselves. We experience guilt over so many things. We are emotional and hormonal and stressed. We often feel isolated and lonely. We are the perfect storm for depression.
I have experienced depression both personally as previously blogged and professionally in my former life as a therapist. It is a crippling and scary disease of the human body and mind. I am fearful for my daughters and their statistical and genetic vulnerability to this illness. I hope that the safe home and thoughtful parenting that Jason and I provide will be their first defense against depression. The next million defense strategies are already in the works. What are your thoughts on this issue?
Monday, March 29, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Forward.....
Disclaimer: If you are creeped out by cheesy posts about love and marriage, please STOP here.
I am going to try and give an honest account of the love story of Katie and Jason DeWitt. I promise a couple of good laughs and a candid look at marriage between two unlikely candidates. Yesterday, Jason and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. That means that we have been together for nearly 8 years. We were married 51 weeks from the day we met in a quickie shot-gun style wedding. As many of you know, we met in a bar. I truly believe that all of the years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and even seconds in my life culminated and were perfectly orchestrated so that I would walk into O'Bryon's Irish Pub on Madison Road in Cincinnati, Ohio at the moment in which I did. I immediately sat down next to who was to become my husband and sparks began to fly. Then there were fireworks and the rest of my life was decided, rather quickly. I moved to Indianapolis, having completed my MSW at UC in June and shacked up with my boyfriend of 3 months in an 0ver-priced apartment and we began our lives together.
Ladies and gentlemen, there was never a question in my mind about our relationship. I never considered whether he would be a good husband, father, companion or friend. I knew he would- I knew in my heart and my oftentimes over-active brain trusted that smitten heart and forward we went. In December, (having moved to Indy in July) I started noticing some changes to my, um...body. I was suddenly a curvaceous woman and inquired of my live-in boyfriend/future doctor whether or not he thought I could be pregnant. "Absolutely not!" was the response I received....like 10 times. Finally, I took a test. It was positive. I was a stereotype. A non-married, knocked up, living in sin pregnant lady. In retrospect, the timing was perfect. In the moment, we were dumbfounded. Adjusting to the idea of having a child in the mindset we had at the time took more than a couple days. Our plans for the short term were rendered irrelevant. We talked ad nauseum about how this could have happend and how we felt fearful and not ready for having kids. The moment where we were able to accept our fate will forever be etched in my mind. As with most DeWitt milestones, it was not during a lovely walk through a garden or over a romantic dinner; it was at Mike's Express Carwash. As we drove our non-child friendly VW through the shooting soap and spinning brushes, Jason, out of nowhere says, "We can do this. Geez, I'm gonna be a doctor in 5 months, you're educated. We're old enough to have a baby." Again, I had never questioned whether he would support me or us. I had never questioned his capacity for becoming a father. I knew this would mean as much to him as it did to me. And, forward we went. We were married in the aforementioned quickie ceremony in Brown County, Indiana. We had a party, I was able to shove my voluptuous self into a dress. It was not the dream wedding; it was not lavish or even very representational of us personally. Nontheless, it was ours and it was perfect. A beautiful, dainty baby girl was born in August and forward we went, as all new parents do, in awe and wonder with a sense of pride and responsibility heretofore unknown. Our marriage is built on love and like-mindedness and those two qualities certainly had their place as we fought our way through Jason's residency and the necessity of my full-time job. Never once did either of us sacrifice one moment away from each other or our darling daughter. Those moments were precious and few and the memories of those first years are inexplicably dear to me.
And then Sawyer was born. Colic nightmare that she was, we now had two gorgeous daughters and a residency that was winding down leaving us with time for family life. My husband informed me that he wanted to pursue a job opportunity in LAFAYETTE, INDIANA. I was truly speechless. For all I knew at the time, Lafayette (West Lafayette) was another horrible and forsaken Indiana town. I wanted to stay in Indianapolis. Or leave Indiana all together. Jason's insistence on moving to Lafayette was incredibly frustrating to me and this was a time that I had to trust him, like it or not. For our loved ones, we do things that are unexpected, scary and often, downright against our better wishes. As many of you know, we moved our young family to West Lafayette, a place where we knew approximated 4 people and we started over. At the age of 32. We lived in a dumpy rental and sweated out the still lingering mortgage in Indy on top of our (again) over-priced rent. We paid 2 sets of utilities and finally sold our Indy home after an agonizing YEAR on the market. And then, we settled down. We bought a home in what I have named "suburban utopia" on Nice Guy St. and were ecstatic to welcome a miniature version of my husband by the name of Eamon.
Last week, I wrote a post about my husband and it may have been misconstrued by some as painting my husband as a neanderthal. Although a caveman on many accounts, he is a great husband, friend, and hopefully a life-long companion. We came from very different backgrounds and value systems. Nonetheless, through all the changes we have been on the same page since that evening in March of 2002 when I sat next to him at O'Bryon's. Forward we go....
I am going to try and give an honest account of the love story of Katie and Jason DeWitt. I promise a couple of good laughs and a candid look at marriage between two unlikely candidates. Yesterday, Jason and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. That means that we have been together for nearly 8 years. We were married 51 weeks from the day we met in a quickie shot-gun style wedding. As many of you know, we met in a bar. I truly believe that all of the years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and even seconds in my life culminated and were perfectly orchestrated so that I would walk into O'Bryon's Irish Pub on Madison Road in Cincinnati, Ohio at the moment in which I did. I immediately sat down next to who was to become my husband and sparks began to fly. Then there were fireworks and the rest of my life was decided, rather quickly. I moved to Indianapolis, having completed my MSW at UC in June and shacked up with my boyfriend of 3 months in an 0ver-priced apartment and we began our lives together.
Ladies and gentlemen, there was never a question in my mind about our relationship. I never considered whether he would be a good husband, father, companion or friend. I knew he would- I knew in my heart and my oftentimes over-active brain trusted that smitten heart and forward we went. In December, (having moved to Indy in July) I started noticing some changes to my, um...body. I was suddenly a curvaceous woman and inquired of my live-in boyfriend/future doctor whether or not he thought I could be pregnant. "Absolutely not!" was the response I received....like 10 times. Finally, I took a test. It was positive. I was a stereotype. A non-married, knocked up, living in sin pregnant lady. In retrospect, the timing was perfect. In the moment, we were dumbfounded. Adjusting to the idea of having a child in the mindset we had at the time took more than a couple days. Our plans for the short term were rendered irrelevant. We talked ad nauseum about how this could have happend and how we felt fearful and not ready for having kids. The moment where we were able to accept our fate will forever be etched in my mind. As with most DeWitt milestones, it was not during a lovely walk through a garden or over a romantic dinner; it was at Mike's Express Carwash. As we drove our non-child friendly VW through the shooting soap and spinning brushes, Jason, out of nowhere says, "We can do this. Geez, I'm gonna be a doctor in 5 months, you're educated. We're old enough to have a baby." Again, I had never questioned whether he would support me or us. I had never questioned his capacity for becoming a father. I knew this would mean as much to him as it did to me. And, forward we went. We were married in the aforementioned quickie ceremony in Brown County, Indiana. We had a party, I was able to shove my voluptuous self into a dress. It was not the dream wedding; it was not lavish or even very representational of us personally. Nontheless, it was ours and it was perfect. A beautiful, dainty baby girl was born in August and forward we went, as all new parents do, in awe and wonder with a sense of pride and responsibility heretofore unknown. Our marriage is built on love and like-mindedness and those two qualities certainly had their place as we fought our way through Jason's residency and the necessity of my full-time job. Never once did either of us sacrifice one moment away from each other or our darling daughter. Those moments were precious and few and the memories of those first years are inexplicably dear to me.
And then Sawyer was born. Colic nightmare that she was, we now had two gorgeous daughters and a residency that was winding down leaving us with time for family life. My husband informed me that he wanted to pursue a job opportunity in LAFAYETTE, INDIANA. I was truly speechless. For all I knew at the time, Lafayette (West Lafayette) was another horrible and forsaken Indiana town. I wanted to stay in Indianapolis. Or leave Indiana all together. Jason's insistence on moving to Lafayette was incredibly frustrating to me and this was a time that I had to trust him, like it or not. For our loved ones, we do things that are unexpected, scary and often, downright against our better wishes. As many of you know, we moved our young family to West Lafayette, a place where we knew approximated 4 people and we started over. At the age of 32. We lived in a dumpy rental and sweated out the still lingering mortgage in Indy on top of our (again) over-priced rent. We paid 2 sets of utilities and finally sold our Indy home after an agonizing YEAR on the market. And then, we settled down. We bought a home in what I have named "suburban utopia" on Nice Guy St. and were ecstatic to welcome a miniature version of my husband by the name of Eamon.
Last week, I wrote a post about my husband and it may have been misconstrued by some as painting my husband as a neanderthal. Although a caveman on many accounts, he is a great husband, friend, and hopefully a life-long companion. We came from very different backgrounds and value systems. Nonetheless, through all the changes we have been on the same page since that evening in March of 2002 when I sat next to him at O'Bryon's. Forward we go....
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
What My Husband Probably Thinks....(inspired by Bilak)
Recently, a friend from high school joked that he would like to start a sarcastic version of my blog, as told from the male perspective. As I told him, there are endless ways to poke fun at the Mommy blog. I'm sure many non-moms or non-parents read a Mommy blog and find the information trite and annoying. I get it. I do. So, in the spirit of Bilak's comment, I will attempt to write a blog from my husband's perspective. I will start his internal dialogue from the time he wakes up in the morning.
Today when I woke up at 7pm, I was so tired, but ready for a little you know what. My wife was still sleeping with those stupid pajama pants on that have a tie around the waist. She probably double knots those SOB's so that I will leave her alone. In my defeat, I headed to the shower and got ready as quickly as I could. I really wanted to get out of there before any of the kids woke up. I hate when they wake up crying and needy and want me to help them with a bunch of stuff. So, I kissed Katie and headed to work. I had a busy day; implant case, pediatric sedations, a full mouth at 2pm. Generally a good, productive day. I ate a crappy lunch from Wendy's despite the fact that Katie encouraged me to take the leftovers from last night. I always act like I forget the leftovers because honestly, Katie is a terrible cook. Not to mention the fact that she insists on using green peppers, tomatoes and onions in 90% of the crap she makes. I hate all three of those ingredients but moreover, I hate leftovers. I prefer the Baconator. Cholesterol and/or saturated fat are not concerns of mine. Anyway, after jacking around at my desk long after everyone else has gone home, I head home myself. Katie has already called me 5 times (screaming kids were, of course in the background) and asked me to bring her a Diet Coke from the fridge at work. I always try to bring her one. It scores me some points. (You know what I'm talking about, right guys?) Anyway, I walk into my house and it is trashed. My baby boy starts crying and holding his arms up to me, the girls are dressed like bag lady-princesses and are running around screaming like banshees. My wife looks like she has not slept in 10 days. She is cooking some slop that I explore critically and I start thinking about how pissed she might be if I suggest a phone call to Papa John's. Honestly, she tries, but she is not a good cook. I go through my normal routine: listen to Katie blabber on about her day and all of the "interesting" things that she did (I process approximately 25% of the information), I check cnnsi.com, I go upstairs and change clothes. I start wondering what kind of shot I have at getting Katie to hook up with me tonight. I ruin my "dinner" by eating crackers and cheese so that I don't have to eat that mess she has created. I attempt to talk to my daughters who are currently dancing and singing to some super loud music blaring from the TV. I hold my dirty son who looks like one of those babies you see in a cart at Wal-Mart. And then, I start to help my wife. She looks overwhelmed, tired and in need of a shower. I pick up a little bit, try to help my 1st grader with her homework, hold my son and play with our younger daughter. I have to admit it, my life is pretty good. I have cute kids, a great wife and I work 4 days a week. I'm honestly a pretty good husband and an attentive Dad. Seriously though, what do you think my chances are with Katie tonight?
Monday, March 1, 2010
For months now, Madeline has been jealous of all of her toothless, lisping classmates. Her teeth came in quite late so it stands to reason that she would lose them later as well. She started declaring upper and lower teeth "wiggly" while in Kindergarten, when there was not even a slight movement in ANY tooth. Now, Madeline is not a child with a high tolerance for pain and has been know to run from her Oral Surgeon father when he makes an effort to even LOOK at her teeth. Therefore, the process of losing her first tooth has been a long one. And when I say long; I mean like 6 months. She would give this tiny bottom tooth approximately one slight nudge per day. She was not motivated by the Tooth Fairy's illustrious rewards. Even the aforementioned jealousy of the en vogue first grade look could not motivate this child to get this tooth out one second earlier than she deemed reasonable. So we have been waiting for the big day for months.
Finally on Friday, that day came. Girlfriend lost her tooth. AT SCHOOL. Now, of course I would have liked to have been present for the blessed event, however losing your tooth at school is akin to having your birthday fall on a school day. A BIG deal. My newly toothless darling was transported to the nurse where a big deal was made of her new grin. She was given a special tooth holder to wear around her neck (and presumably to house the little guy until the Tooth Fairy recovered it from under her pillow). Everyone was looking at the gloriously empty spot where her tooth had been. What fun. Apparently losing your first (0r any) tooth at school is like being queen for a day. That evening, we went to Madeline's school for movie night. Again, this is a big deal. Candy, pajamas, friends, pillows and sleeping bags. Really, really good stuff. This was one of those days where Madeline was overcome and declared that Friday, February 26, 2010 had been one of the BEST DAYS EVER.
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