Postpartum depression

As I’ve made mention to in the past on this site, depression is a very real struggle for me, one in which Aaron and I are very aware of and taking precautions for postpartum.

A member of my family has also had a very real struggle with depression in the past, and has since had a baby – and had severe postpartum depression. A struggle she is still trying to over come and correct. She’s checked herself into a hospital for the second time.

I’m writing about this because, one it’s close to my heart – watching what she’s going through is one of the hardest things I’ve done. She is the most honorable woman I know right now, taking care of herself so she can better take care of her family. Admitting something is wrong, whether or not you can see what it is, is the first and hardest thing to overcoming depression of any kind.

I obviously haven’t had postpartum depression – but am talking to my doctors about my history with clinical depression in order to get a handle on what to expect, if anything at all. I would rather go running at the problem head on, knowing there’s an end in sight than sit at home thinking I’ve done something wrong, wondering what it is I don’t have that I can’t be happy I have a new baby. I don’t want to suffer from depression the same way my mom did, she even had to get assistance from HCA and 32 hour home care givers.

There are alot of things going on in my family as of late – dealing with my dad’s death has brought depression back on the forefront for me, something I have to deal with on a daily basis. Getting out of bed because I have to live for more than a memory. It’s a sad road, but one that, with time, can be paved with healing.

I can only imagine what kind of pain my sister is going through – dealing with depression, death, mourning, grieving and postpartum psychosis on top of it all. She said something tonight that I think everyone needs to know about depression – whether you, yourself, struggle with it or know someone who does – it’s not that our lives suck, our lives are good, for the most part couldn’t be better – it’s a chemical issue.

You can’t see the illness, and to some it’s nothing but a mind over matter issue – some of you might think I’m a quack to be so worried about some of this for my future, and my childs mental future – but if I had a heart condition or cancer, if I had an illness you could understand or see you wouldn’t be thinking twice about empathizing, praying or offering support. Depression is a disease, something you have to fight to conquer – and although it’s a personal disease, a struggle within for the most part – it’s there nonetheless. And should be treated by a doctor you trust and who knows your medical history.

It’s only realistic and fair to my family, Aaron and this new baby, to be completely honest about this struggle. If it were diabetes I was struggling with, we would be just as proactive.

I think it’s important to get the awareness out there about postpartum depression – too many people are afraid to talk about it with their close friends or even their family. Some women won’t even mention their symptoms or thoughts to their doctors. I can’t say it enough – if you were suffering from diabetes, heart problems, or other health issues you would get help. There’s no shame in getting help for your health. Regardless of the area you’re unhealthy.

Here are a few more links on postpartum depression:
Postpartum and caring for your baby.
A woman’s journey through postpartum depression.


Since I only work part time I have the ability to have dinner on the table waiting for Aaron, which would leave left overs for lunches and solve a ton of issues he seems to be having with eating at all during the day until 7 pm. It would also cut down on some spending and keep us healthier in many ways.

However, I can only make the same recipe once a month, maybe twice if I sneak it in, without Aaron getting huffy that we already had this dinner this month. He’s kinda picky. And I’m running out of tried and true recipes to make him – which means he comes home to an empty table and a hungry wife and we end up eating out or having cereal.

So I need some help – direct me to your favorite recipes, post them, email them or give me links to websites – I know about, and it’s helpful but I need more.

Whats your favorite genre of food – Aaron likes spicy or anything with meat. He likes Mexican alot too … but I have heartburn, so thats a no no mostly.

I like Italian, Aaron will eat it, but he prefers more substance. And I love casseroles.

So there you have it, feed me, literally. Give me food for thought, recipes and ideas. We’re running out at the Schaap house.

When in doubt, piss off the pregnant customers.

I’m going to do some pretty heavy bashing on a local business … which is also national, and I hope someone out there who works there will get the picture and STOP PISSING OFF THEIR CUSTOMERS.

5/3rd Bank.

Enough said, right? I know … but there’s more.

When Aaron and I got engaged we decided to put our accounts together to get everything meshed and the bumps smoothed before the impending marriage – and to lessen stress on both our selves when we found out each other was spending X amount on something we would consider stupid. I recommend this to anyone engaged or dating with the intention of getting married. Do this BEFORE the wedding, months before.

Anyway – Aaron banked at Bank A while I banked at Bank B – I would NOT bank with Bank A and Aaron, as an effort to remain in control decided not to want to bank at Bank B … so we found Bank C and are happy customers. This will come in handy later – so remember, we’re compromising.

So today I made a deposit with 5/3rd (Bank A). The only reason we have an account there is because our mortgage is there, and you get a better interest rate if you bank with them. yea, not completely worth it.

Here’s what happened. I drive up to the drive thru, put my transaction in the tube and send it in. They say hi, I say hi and continue to keep talking, letting them know what it is I intend to do and ask them if they would be so kind as to make a copy of my check.

She had already turned the speaker off, I had to repeat myself 2 MORE times before she actually listened to what it was I had to say. Then she matter of factly mentioned there was a fee for making a copy of a check. (Check one to pissing me off) Of course there’s a fee for making a freaking copy – it’s a peice of paper, ONE PEICE OF PAPER. So I said forget it.

Then she went back to whatever she was doing, obviously not working on my transaction because she came back to me a 4th time to ask me what it was I wanted to do. I told her … again.

Speaker off.

Speaker on. – Ma’am do you have accounts with us.

HOLY MOTHER OF EVERYTHING PURE … for the 5th time, I told her the information was written on the back of the check, including my account number and intentions for the check.

Speaker off.

Speaker on. I need to see your drivers license.

Tube out, I put my license in there, send it back and continue to fume.

Speaker on. – Ma’am, are you just depositing this??


Oh, well in that case you need to fill out a deposit slip – I’ll send one out to you.

Because for some odd reason it wasn’t easier for her to fill out, seeing as how I gave her all the information she needed on the back of my check … I wanted to throw the drive thru tube at the glass window. And I contimplated taking my transaction and driving away in hopes to send them a message. A message that would hopefully convey how awful they are at customer service, at serving the community around them and about how lazy they’re becoming. Use the pen behind your ear, write 8 numbers on a peice of paper and put the information into the computer, put your stamp on the ticket and send me a receipt.

So I filled out the dumb ticket, and sent the tube back inside. I waited 3 minutes to get my reciept back and I drove away completely pissed off that I had to be treated like someone who didn’t know tit from tat about banking.

Uh huh, did I mention I work at a bank. Thats right.

Aha, THIS is what mood swings are!?

In my entire “womanly” adulthood, I think I’m safe to say that I never suffered from the dramatic mood swings. Depression, yes. Mood swings, not so much. And I think I finally know what they are.

After having been experiencing them, unbeknownst to me, for the past month or so … I just put my finger on them this morning.

There are alot of things that bother me. People, situations, my hair … any number of things on any given day and I can go from jolly lil’ pregnant person to steaming, inwardly plotting and hating, adrenaline pumping pregnant ‘watch out’.

These past few mornings I’ve noticed the difference after waking up. Some mornings I am just ready to go, get my list-o-things done and be able to relax with Aaron when he comes home. Other days I wake up still steaming over something that happened the day before, whether or not I knew it affected me then … I know it now.

And then I spend the ENTIRE morning having silent conversations in my head with the people involved or myself alone, depending on what happened. Or I conduct a play of what I think would have been a better solution to whatever it is that’s bothering me. And then I write about it – not here, but I put it in words.

I write the conversation down, or whatever the case may be; and then I continue to yell and scream all the words I want on this paper and I feel better.

Some of these conversations I do have to have in person, because well … they bother me that much. But most of the time I can get by with writing it out and no one is the wiser. Now, granted, I will be more willing to stand my ground and let whoever or whatever know what I’m thinking/feeling the next time something should happen because I’ve rehearsed the conversation and I know what I need /want to say. But until that happens, and hopefully it won’t, I feel better.


Journal, laptop computer, scrap paper in the car, lots of pens all over the house and car and even in purse or pocket … and sometimes the occasional tape recording machine, because our fingers are fat and it’s easier to talk then to write.

I mentioned having pens around, everywhere, because so far in this house there are no pens anywhere, ever. And when we’re dealing with the hormonal pregnant me with a mood swing and I can’t a find a pen where a pen SHOULD BE, that just makes me swing my mood towards the pen. And lets face it here, the pen is my friend. He’s helping me get my pent up frustration out. There is no need to hate the messenger.

Belly touching

Remeber when I said I didn’t mind people I knew touching my belly … ??? I made that comment in “I swallowed a Watermelon” entry – and let me just rephrase that for the record.

I don’t mind people I know touching my belly IF:

You’re female and I touched your belly when you were pregnant
Your name is my mom or sisters
You were in my wedding
You are Aaron.

Other wise, and this is mostly for the gentlemen I don’t know and elderly women in grocery stores … do not touch me, at all.

This morning in church I had TWO males come up from behind and extend their hands around me to touch MY stomach. (Did I mention they were behind me, like standing in a movie line and the grose couple in front of you can’t keep their hands off of eachother when he reaches around her to hold her mid section or cuddle … sick).

I knew these males, not well mind you. I knew there names and have hung out with them in crowds before … but that doesn’t mean it’s ok to touch me, at all, anywhere.

And it wasn’t just a touch, either … it was the full on rub n’ pat. Thats right – and let me just say a I have a problem with that. A slightly large problem with that. Don’t be touching my belly you male people – thats weird, and it freaks me out. alot.