Ya down with PPD? Yeah, you know me.

Ooooh, she's clinically depressed. Freaky. I wonder what that's about?

Even with depression running in the family, I always wondered what it would really feel like to have to rely on a medication for your mental well-being. Well, now I know (and as GI Joe says, "knowing is half the battle!"). I found myself sinking deep into that dark place that I visited after Ruary's birth. Thinking it was due to my failed breastfeeding attempts, I never got it treated back then. I was stupid. Not only should I have gotten it treated, I should have been more aware the second time around and started getting treated as soon as Milo was born. But instead, I waited six weeks for my doctor to tell me, "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME SOONER?"

So here I am, medicated with the lowest effective dose of Zoloft, and I am human again. Granted, it's not terribly easy on my body, but boy, does my brain feel so much BETTER. I can laugh. And joke. And enjoy.

Before the meds kicked in, I wasn't enjoying. I was doing my best to smile at Milo and talk to him and love him, but it felt like acting. Now I'm not acting, and my smiles and conversation with my verbal little man are genuine and fun. Before, I was swatting Ruary's butt more often than I wanted to, and now I'm able to talk to him about why he shouldn't throw things in the house. And he responds much better to that, because he is a sensitive little soul. I'm a better mom, because I am right in the head.

PPD is scary. I don't think I smiled for weeks. I remember hanging my head and just crying, SOBBING, when the smallest thing went wrong. That's not normal. So now, I will watch people like a hawk when they give birth, making sure that they don't have to experience the process of dismissing their depression as the "baby blues", only to find out that they are the 1 in 5 mothers who develop PPD from their baby blues. I wish someone had ordered me to get help earlier.