bittersweet things

wow.

I sat down to the laptop tonight and just stared at the screen for a bit.  It's hard to begin explaining how the past 10 days have been.  My thoughts are jumbled and my heart is full (to say the least), but I will do my best.

I would like to start off by saying, "thank you!"  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.  I cannot adequately express what I have been feeling in the past 10 days, but I know the number one emotion has been that of gratitude.  The outpouring of love and prayers offered on our families' behalf has been overwhelming and I appreciate it all so so so much and more than you will ever know.

When I began writing my last post, I had a heavy heart.  Life the past 3-5 months had been difficult, as I had explained.  Typing those words, saying those words out loud for all the world to read, was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.  But by the end of the post, I felt a release.  And I felt relieved.  Explaining all the gory details of our lives recently left me feeling better about our situation because I was no longer feeling like I was living a lie.  Every time anyone would ask, "how are you doing?", I felt like it was such a loaded question.  But I answered with the traditional, "I'm fine," because that is what people want and expect to hear.  They don't want to hear the nitty gritty details.  So I bottled them and they festered...so to release them in that blog post was liberating and brought peace to my soul.  It was therapeutic and wonderful.

The response has been overwhelmingly kind and I thank you all for that.  While those words were healing, they were hurtful to express openly.  So I thank all our friends, family, loved ones, and readers for the kind words offered afterwards.  I hope I can live up to even half of the nice things uttered. 

On April 22nd (Earth Day!) we had a family doctor's appointment at urgent care because Tim & Ava have bronchitis and I have sinusitis.  Our day was filled - this appointment, the pharmacy, lunch, and random errands.  We got home to put the youngest girls down for a nap and then Emerie & I ran off to soccer class.  After soccer class we had a doctor's appointment for Emerie.  I wanted to have a urinalysis done to rule out diabetes.

You see, Emerie had been acting strangely for a few weeks.  She was drinking an abnormal amount - excessively and all.the.time. She was hungry all the time, too.  Not for just any food - it was all her favorite, picky-eater foods, but she wanted them all.the.time. And because of these things, she was urinating excessively and all.the.time.  One night she woke up crying, and we found that she had wet the bed.  This was extremely unusual behavior for Emerie - she hadn't wet the bed in over 2 years! Tim believed it was Emerie acting out because of Ava potty training and getting up to go in the middle of the night.  We sat in bed, discussing things, and I had the thought - "she has type 1 diabetes".  I realized that I had smelled a sweet breath smell on Emerie before that I had only ever smelled with my sister & she had been looking like she had possibly lost some weight. I told Tim I wanted to have her tested, since my dad and sister both had type 1 diabetes, and I arranged for a doctor's appointment.

We arrived to the doctor's office and I explained what we were being seen for.  I can't describe what the next 24 hours were like, because they are all surreal.  You see, I knew Emerie had diabetes.  I can't explain it, but I knew. So after the urinalysis, when the doctor came in to tell me that her blood sugar was abnormally high, I sat there nodding.  The doctor kept looking at me, waiting for a reaction - something other than the calmness I was exhibiting.  The truth is, nothing hit me until I got in the car and called Tim.  And it was nothing about being scared or sad...I was worried when I left the doctor's office because they hadn't given me her blood sugar level and instead had just told me to go straight to Oakland Children's Hospital with Emerie because they would need to admit her.  I was worried because the doctor had acted like Emerie had ketones and was terribly sick.  And I felt awful that I hadn't taken her in sooner.

We ran home, grabbed a bag for the hospital, and tried to think about how the next few days would be handled.  Then we ran out the door and spent the next 8 hours in ER.  And the next 2 days in the hospital after that.  I drove back and forth - I had to stay with Maisy in the night.  Ava was lovingly taken by friends and neighbors. 

Emerie's diagnosis was confirmed - she has type 1 diabetes, which means she will be forever insulin-dependent.  There are a lot of myths surrounding diabetes, and while most are based on fact, they are based on type 2 diabetes facts.  For those living with type 2 diabetes, it is very possible to change diet and lifestyle and live a completely normal life.  With type 1, the child (or person) will forever need insulin to regulate their pancreas and their blood sugars.  As a friend lovingly explained to me recently, "it's like herding cats!"

Throughout this experience, all I feel is gratitude.  I feel a lot of eyes watching me, waiting for me to snap...worrying about me handling yet another thing on our plate right now, but I can say with a surety that I am calm.  It is a lot to take in.  It's a lot to handle.  It is stressful.  But it is manageable.  I can do this.  I can do hard things. And I'm ok. And I'm also sure a lot of my attitude is dependent on the prayers offered on my behalf and I am so grateful for that. 

While in the hospital, a diabetes educator asked about my history with the disease.  I told her that I grew up with my dad and older sister being type 1 diabetics and she replied, "Oh that's great.  You have been prepared for this your entire life."  This sentence has stuck with me for the past week as I have thought about things.  A friend of mine chatted about it all with me and it's amazing how the Lord prepares us.  I am here today because I was supposed to be.  I am here because I needed to catch Emerie's diagnosis before she was really sick.  A family in our ward had a son recently diagnosed and they just so happened to attend an outing the night we were in the ER, where a friend was able to tell them about what was happening with Emerie.  This ward member brought her son to the hospital the next day to visit Emerie and has been a huge help to me during this experience. Emerie's primary teacher is a nurse.  Today she told me that she & her husband had been wondering for months why they were in primary, teaching the sunbeams.  They had asked themselves "why?" so often, and when they learned of Emerie's diagnosis, they realized that this was "why" - who better able to tell if Emerie is acting differently and in need of help with her blood sugars than a nurse?!  I think of all of these things (and there are more!) and I can't help but feel so blessed by these tender mercies.

There are so many things I could say at this time, but I really can't find the words.  So for now I will say this: The Lord prepares us for what we need to do.  He places people in our path that are best able to help us.  He knows us and He loves us.

With that said, let me share what we've been up to for the past looooong while.  Some of this is catch-up, and some is recent! ....

{baby cuddles are just the best...and very rare around our home.  miss maisy has just started crawling and also broke her first tooth.  my baby is gone and I miss her so much!}

{this is the book I mentioned in my last post - it is incredible and I recommend it to anyone!}

{emerie's first day of soccer class!  I am one proud mama!}

{maisy enjoys her time at soccer class - it doesn't last too long so she's pretty content to sit and play with toys and watch}

{ava is always very "helpful"}

{and emerie is quite a little natural with soccer!}

{library days are so fun - the girls love bringing home new books}

{our house is full of pink...all the time! tim is certainly outnumbered}

{grampa and gramma sent some fun little gifts for the girls! they love the random goodies we get!}

{we leave for our next disneyland trip next week and we've been doing this little countdown for awhile - each link has a disney character and saying to go with it}

{we took a trip to Lake Merritt in Oakland and ate at the Merritt Bakery & Cafe - and this place/cake inspired some bay area references in the movie "Up!"}

{ava can put.it.down}

{after the cafe, we visited fairyland where we have a season pass - it was a really fun afternoon and this place is so cute and fun!}

{I'm 27 years old and I still play with stuffed animals!  I love playing with the girls.  I also do a rockin' mickey mouse voice!}

{maisy got to play with mickey and was absolutely thrilled}

{this is how maisy waits for her food}

{don't these two just kill you with cuteness?!  and maisy freely gives kisses to everyone BUT me...boo}

And then we ended up in the ER...and Ava wouldn't leave Emerie's side.  We actually stayed until 1 in the morning just to make sure that Emerie was going to her room and was going to be ok.......

And then we were in the hospital for a day or two and Emerie received lots of lovely gifts & visits from her friends, and we took a picture of these sisters being cute..........

And then we got home and reality set in and we realized how totally unprepared the hospital allows you to leave.  So real life begins.  And along with it comes organizing, reading, researching, and worrying about blood sugars.  But my new mantra is "I can do hard things"................

And now we are HERE.  And it seems strange & surreal, but also like this is the way it was supposed to be. 

Several of you have asked how Emerie is doing...Emerie is a rockstar.  Being in the hospital was hard on all of us, but most especially her.  She is still having difficulty comprehending why she is sick and that it will never go away.  That these shots and these measures we take to make her feel good will never end.  But each day she gets better about everything.  Today was her first full day without any crying with any of her shots.  While we were in the hospital, we started s sticker chart with her.  Every shot that she is a brave girl for, she gets a sticker.  My children are sticker chart obsessed, so this was a great motivator for her.  Tomorrow we are going to the store to pick out her first small prize.  We are able to prick her finger to check her blood sugar level without any complaint.  She happily picks a finger and holds it out.  If she had an easier time pushing the button on her lancet, she would be doing them herself.  She loves when we let her do it to us. She has been such a brave little girl and we hope that it can only get easier. 

I had my first experience talking to someone who didn't understand what type 1 diabetes meant when we were first home from the hospital - we took Emerie & Ava to the disney store to pick out prizes for their chore charts.  The cast member helping us asked about Emerie's special bag that she was carrying - it was her bag with all her diabetic supplies in it.  I explained it to him and he looked at me and said, "But she looks so healthy! She's not fat or anything!"  I then explained that type 1 diabetes wasn't determined by diet and exercise, but instead that she needed insulin shots to regulate her blood sugars.  He then replied, "Well hopefully that doesn't last long and her body will just start regulating itself!"  I thanked him and we left.  Now, I don't find anything wrong with this experience - I understand it and I understand that he was just being kind, hoping that Emerie didn't have to do shots forever.  It makes perfect sense to me.  But these comments, along with others I have heard since her diagnosis, have enlightened me to the fact that not many people know much about type 1 diabetes!  I realize now that not everyone grew up in a household where it was an everyday thing & just a normal part of life.  Most people know about type 2 diabetes and probably know someone that has it.  For those of you that don't know much about type 1, I have included a link at the top of the page, near the links for Emerie & Ava's twitter feeds.  If you are at all interested in knowing more about type 1 diabetes, I urge you to visit the Mayo Clinic's page for more information.

We love & appreciate you all for your concern and love. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts!

♥ 

heavy things

I've never been one known for having a way with words.  I love and enjoy writing and it's always held a sort of release for me, but it's never been something to consider making a living with. I find that I communicate best when I write (which doesn't say much about my verbal skills).  Why?  It's simple.  When you write, you're able to think about your words.  Process them. Edit them as necessary. Share your feelings by using them. Words are so powerful, so why not use them wisely?

There are arguments for using the spoken word, and while I share them, I have to say that I still prefer the written word.  There's something special and dare I say, magical, that occurs when I write, rewrite, edit, and review.  Yes, words are so powerful. 

I have probably written this blog post ten times now, always deleting it before publishing.  The words I've written, rewritten, edited, and reviewed sting and always cause tears. I am mortified.  I am horrified. These words have stirred more  emotions than I can endure, and because I cannot endure them, I throw them away.  I still enjoy the release that writing has created, but I don't have to manage the consequences that publishing such words may produce.

At the risk of being so utterly vulnerable - something I have not been accustomed to being in the past, but am rapidly become familiar to in these past few months - I will share my story. Because these words I am sharing are words I know I needed to read, but could not find easily.  These words carry with them the heavy weight of being stigmatized and heavily judged.  These words will hurt me more than help me, in the hopes that it may help someone else someday. 

 And before I lose sight of what I'm even doing, let me begin.

On February 24th, I had a miscarriage.  I was already 8 weeks along, though I had just found out about the pregnancy 4 days prior. I hadn't yet shared the news with Tim, because I can honestly and shamefully admit that this pregnancy was not happy news for our family. Later that week, I made a doctor's appointment. My body hadn't naturally expelled all the tissue, but had done most of the work.  Instead of sending me for an outpatient D&C, my doctor scraped the remains while I was there in her office.

As if this experience wasn't overwhelming enough - between my feelings of being heartbroken like all my miscarriages before, or being relieved because I knew this was the right thing - my doctor and I sat down for a discussion. I initiated the discussion and afterwards I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. I had known about the postpartum depression for months, but I had never made the effort to see anyone regarding what I had been going through. I just assumed that the hormonal imbalance that I knew with a surety I was experiencing would at some point dissipate and I would return to my normal, happy, mood-swing-free self.  The hormonal imbalance had not magically corrected itself with time, and as a result, I could sense so many things in my life being affected.  Relationships with others, my mothering, and the ability to be myself. For months now, I have been a shell of my former self. When I look in the mirror, I no longer see myself, I see a stranger.  This stranger is someone I just don't get along with.

So I used the miscarriage as an opportunity to finally discuss these aforementioned (and still very current) feelings with my doctor.  I don't have the warmest feelings towards my doctor, so discussing something so personal was extremely difficult. She diagnosed me with postpartum depression due to a "severe hormonal imbalance" and suggested I consider the use of hormone pill therapy to return to a balanced state. She also suggested we wait a few weeks to begin due to the miscarriage and the effect that would have on my hormones at the time. I agreed to return home, take it easy for a few days, and call her back about the hormone therapy in a few weeks.

After returning home from the appointment, and giving myself some time to process what I had just gone through, I did some research into hormone pill therapy.  There are so many studies done that suggest it can increase your risk for cancer, so I called my old doctor in Utah.  She knows my medical history better than anyone (and I'm not sure my current doctor in California even bothered to look over my medical history) and she warned me against the use of hormone pill therapy to correct the depression.  Considering I'm already supposed to have yearly checks for breast cancer, uteran cancer, and ovarian cancer - all of which I am at high risk for - the hormone pills could have a detrimental affect. 

I remember getting off the phone with my old doctor and feeling hopeless.  What was I supposed to do?  I wrote on this very blog the day before my doctor's appointment about the dark days that postpartum depression brings (though I didn't define what the dark days were due to). And I was experiencing them even more than before. I never did call my doctor back for an appointment and I never did hear from her, either.  The dark days continued and nearly consumed me. 

The nearly constant mentions I made about the lack of sleep Maisy was getting, how her silent reflux was getting worse instead of better, how incredibly needy she was...I realize now that these were all cries for help. I wanted people to know.  I wanted people to understand. I so desperately wanted to talk to someone who had dealt with a baby suffering from silent reflux, that knew just how hard and exhausting it was. I just didn't know how to form the words, "my baby is being really difficult! I need help to survive!" because those words made me incredibly vulnerable - especially to those that would like to see me weak and unable to succeed. When I would mention the difficulty I was having with Maisy, I would often hear this reply: "But she's such a happy girl! Look at her just sitting calmly on your lap!" Well yes, she's calm right now because she's on my lap! I have to hold her 24/7 in order to have any peace and quiet! She screams unless she is held or nursing! I am quite literally her human pacifier! 

On a day that I was not only surviving, but actually thriving for a change, the girls and I went outside for some fun with sidewalk chalk - a favorite pasttime around here.  A neighbor dropped by with her daughter, selling girl scout cookies.  As we were talking and getting to know one another, she asked me what kind of a baby Maisy was.  As I was struggling to find the right words to describe her, our neighbor spoke up and said, "You don't have to answer that.  We can hear her screaming all time.  It's ok that she's an unhappy baby." So many thoughts ran through my head, and all I could muster was a smile and a quiet, "yup." But what I wanted to say, and what I'll say now is this: Maisy is not an "unhappy baby".  I believe that to be quite clear by the countless smiles and giggles we have been able to produce without much or any effort. Instead, Maisy is a baby that endured silent reflux without medication due to a wary mother and pediatrician.  Maisy is tired and in pain most of the day.  I am the only thing that can calm her down or comfort her and I have two other children to attend to, at home all the time as well, so I'm unable to be there for her all of the time.  But I'm also so relieved to hear that you have actually heard her screams from across the street because that means I'm NOT crazy.  She cries often and so loudly that the neighbors kitty corner to us can hear her!  And somehow, that makes me feel relieved.

While doctors, neighbors, friends, and others are quick to accuse Maisy of being an unhappy baby and therefore the cause of all our problems, I cannot do the same.  Before coming to the realization that I was experiencing postpartum depression, I dismissed this thought several times.  Postpartum depression is often marked with symptoms of ill-feelings towards the baby.  I have no such feelings towards Maisy.  Sure, I wanted people to understand and sympathize with what I was I was dealing with, but I love Maisy with all my heart and soul.  She was often the reason I woke up in the morning - because I was simply so excited to see her and be near her. I love my baby girl and I love my other girls and I have never had any ill-feelings towards them.

Instead, I like to find blame elsewhere.  Throughout this all-encompassing trial in my life, there were several mini trials simultaneously occurring.  The word "mini" seems to be a misrepresentation, however; seeing as these other trials could be considered hefty enough to easily send someone into depression if they weren't already.  Our blog does not serve the purpose of hurting others or naming names.  So I will not go into detail about the other trials I, and our family, have endured in the past little while.  What I can say is this: People in our lives can either serve as a blessing or a lesson.  We have recently received numerous lessons and few blessings. 

 

The best way to describe my experience (because it is still ongoing) with postpartum depression is with a wave of sadness.  A giant wave will come, wash over me, and I am left drowning most of the day.  I struggle to fight the waves, but inevitably I give up because it is so hard. The sadness crushes my spirit and leaves me gasping for breath.  I just feel sadness, even when there is nothing to feel sadness over.   I spend all day thinking how to better it so I can be there for my family, my friends, and my loved ones...and then the day passes and I realize that I have spent the entirety of it thinking about myself, completely self-absorbed in this wave of sadness that I couldn't overcome.  The crushing guilt of such a realization can then send me back into a downward spiral and into a continual circle of sadness and guilt. And I feel that I have absolutely no control over it, which is by far the most frustrating part. I have been told that I cannot be sad, simply because someone has it worse than me.  I've wondered if that means that I cannot be happy, simply because someone has it better than me.
  

In all my hopelessness, I had disturbing thoughts. And when I say disturbing thoughts, I don't mean to skirt the issue.  I mean suicidal thoughts.  When I was in the depths of despair, battling my postpartum depression demons, everything seemed logical: I’m a terrible mother = my husband and girls deserve better = they will really be better off without me = I should kill myself.

Those disturbing thoughts obviously did not succeed, because I am here, writing this post.  But that's not to say I didn't battle with these demons.  I prayed for death.  I still believe the world would be better off without me a part of it.   I feel so completely worthless and insignificant and small. I don't feel that I am worthy of my husband and my children.  They deserve someone so much better than what I have to offer.  I gained 50 pounds with this pregnancy and I only ever lost 15 pounds of it, so I feel fat and ugly.  I feel hated and despised.  I feel forgotten and invisible.  I feel unloved.  I feel unworthy of any blessings. In the midst of these feelings and this darkness - all these heavy things - the extra trials we experienced were often more than I could bear.

 Tim and I sat down one evening to discuss things. How truly grateful I am for my saint of a husband.  I can truly tell you that we are eternal companions.  We are a team and we go through life as such. Without Tim, I may not be here typing this.  He saved my life and I will be eternally grateful to him. On this night, I shared with him the fact that I had had suicidal thoughts.  It is one of the symptoms of postpartum depression and it can especially manifest itself when the depression is severe (like postpartum psychosis, which I am not experiencing), aggravated somehow, or left untreated.  We tried to pinpoint when my depression is triggered. There are occasions when it comes on suddenly, with no explanation. That is when I believe it is hormonally triggered above anything else.  And other times I can say that the depression is perpetuated by things that I see, hear, read, and come in contact with on a daily basis.  

Not everyday has been bad.  Not every day is a downward spiral of darkness.  Instead, there has been plenty of good.  And I relish those days.  I bask in their light and I do not easily let them go. Tim knew this, and understood this, and helped develop a way to have more days like this.

So at this point, we developed a plan to set a schedule.  A clear definition of what my day with the girls should look like.  On top of this schedule, Tim had prayed to find a way to help me.  At that moment, he checked his phone, looked at his twitter feed, and was directed to the General Conference address delivered by President Eyring - "Mountains to Climb".  He shared the message with me and I was deeply touched.  It was the first time in months that I felt like Heavenly Father was looking out for ME. I had seen so much goodness around me, but rarely felt direct impressions of such light and love.  Tim was prompted to share this message with me and I knew Heavenly Father was looking out for me.

That night I vowed to be better.  I let more spiritual light permeate our home.  We consistently participated in Family Home Evening.  We started up family scripture study again.  We continued diligently with family prayer.  I never missed a day of personal scripture study.  And on top of studying my scriptures, I read a chapter every day from an incredible book by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, "However Long and Hard the Road". I could feel the darkness disappearing a little more each day.  The shell of a person I had become was starting to look and feel more like me.  I took time each day for myself - whether that was to exercise, or pamper myself.  It didn't need to be long - a quick 30 minute run here, and little toenail painting there.  It began to add up to a happier and more resilient me.  I was a better mother, a better wife...in summary, I felt like myself again and it was a gift so precious. 

 On Tuesday, April 9th, I woke up excited. It was a dance class day and I couldn't wait to take Emerie.  It was going to be my first day "back" - meaning I was ready to join my friends walking with the stroller.  No more catching up on zzzz's in the car, or driving around with Maisy to get her to nap, or worrying about Ava having an accident in that short little half hour.  No, I was going to load up my stroller and join them on a much-needed walk.  It had been a long road to get to this point.  A month of working really hard on myself.  A much-needed uplifting conference weekend.  And a lot of letting go of the little things that could easily weigh me down.  Some of those heavy weights had happened all-too-recently, but on this Tuesday, I couldn't be bothered with them.  

On that Tuesday, postpartum anxiety and depression knocked on my door.  A familiar sadness, and crushing waves, threatened me.  All day long.  To the point that I spent the entire day bawling.  My phone rang, and it was my best friend Holli.  And I couldn't stop myself from crying long enough to answer the phone properly.  I answered with a heavy voice, and many tears.  Instead of being there for her when she needed me, she was there for me.  I called Tim afterwards.  I needed to be calmed down because things kept getting worse.  The small foundation that I had spent tirelessly building was crumbling beneath me.  By the time Tim arrived home from work, I was no longer my resilient, happy self.  I was the shell of what-once-was.  But even worse than that, I was mute.  I didn't speak.  I had stopped eating. I silently took care of my family, letting the dark thoughts consume my mind and once again take over.

Tim spent the evening trying to get me to talk to him, but I couldn't.  I was no longer willing to discuss things. I couldn't sleep that night, and instead sat up watching "friends" re-runs on tv.  I sat in a stupor, unable to laugh at my favorite jokes. The disturbing thoughts had returned and with much more persuasion than before. The postpartum demons worked endlessly at disrupting my usually flawless logic. I’m a terrible mother = my husband and girls deserve better = they will really be better off without me = I should kill myself. I'm a horrible person = no one likes me = no one will care if I'm gone = I should kill myself. I'm invisible = I don't matter to anyone = the world would be better without me = I should kill myself. 

By Wednesday morning, I had made a plan.  I had written a note.  Due to some concerns he was having, Tim called me.  I answered his questions and I told him that yes, I had been having suicidal thoughts again.  That they were more serious this time.  And then the next 3 days are a blur.  Tim saved me that day.  His love and complete understanding of what I was going through saved me.  I learned a valuable lesson: The Lord prepares us in ways that we may not know and we may not see the reason for.  But He is always working on us.  Something that Tim had experienced 15 years prior to this prepared him for what I was experiencing at that very moment.  I can't say this enough, because I am eternally indebted, but he saved me.  We met with the bishop, received a referral to family services, and I have been attending counseling sessions to better help me cope.

Every day since this happened I couldn't help but feel like I was having an out-of-body-experience.  It all seems so strange.  When you're going through such heavy things, it's impossible to think of life moving on as it always has.  Now, I'm not saying that world needs to stop because my world has stopped.  But it's still strange and surreal to see the world still spinning as if nothing had happened. It was even stranger when our world had to continue spinning as though nothing had happened.  But it did, and we survived somehow.

This week I have struggled with how I go on.  How do I continue? It's nothing short of a miracle that I am still here.  It is the result of many prayers offered up by my husband. Some days are so much better and I see the happiness, the blessings, the rays of sunshine.  Other days, not so much. Part of my effort to survive this is to let go of these heavy things. To write this all down.  To share with others.  To admit that life is not perfect.  I believe I've never pretended it was - our family, friends, and blog followers know of the trials and sufferings we have been through. But now it is time to finally put this behind me.  To endure it, and endure it well. Everyone has mountains to climb - no one is immune. May we be there to help each other, lighten each other's loads, and be a kind voice. And may we have faith that the Lord will not forsake us.

 

If anyone reads this and wonders what they can do (not necessarily for me or for my family, but in general) I can tell you this: Do not let anyone become invisible.  Do what you can to lift those around you. Not just your friends, family, or people you know & are comfortable with. I mean those that you often pass by and forget immediately about. Listen and follow promptings. I know I have been helped and comforted often by those praying to know what to do for me. A wonderful quote from Elaine S. Dalton reads: "Because deep down we know that what matters in life is more than winning for ourselves. What matters is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course. Life teaches us that we can achieve happiness when we seek the happiness and well-being of others."

I realize that this story, my story, will easily define me.  I have the fear of becoming "the one that suffered with postpartum depression and suicidal thoughts".  I have the fear of being known only for those things, and not for anything else. I have the fear of there being some that are smiling while they read of my trials and pain, because I truly believe there will be some. I have the fear that people will read this and say, "she's crazy, just like that mother of hers"...because people will always judge. And I have the fear that no one will care and will look the other way. In these immense fears and intense vulnerability, I also have hope.  I hope to prove people wrong about me.  That I'm not only defined by the bad things that have happened to me and that I have experienced.  That instead, I am defined by my ability to defy them and the ability to continue finding the rays of sunshine that so often permeate my life.  That I will not allow my trials to dim my faith. That I can be happy, and not discouraged. That I will continue to find sources of light so that the darkness cannot succeed. 
 

peace & love

♥