Okay, so there was a lot more than potty training going on that got me overwhelmed. I had a rough weekend and felt the need to journal about it. This post is pretty long and unnecessarily detailed. I thought I would choose to be vulnerable and share my experience. I'm hoping it can help someone out there who is struggling. You are loved and needed, whoever you are! You can go to the emergency room if you are thinking about hurting yourself or ending your life. I had a positive experience and things got better for me!
I don't want you guys to worry about me or wonder why I didn't call you. When I get stressed out and depressed I feel like the problem solving part of my brain gets shut down.
So here's what happened:
On Saturday I decided it would be a good idea to potty train Ammon. We would be listening to general conference, playing with legos, and staying in the same spot for 4 hours; so why not? We could keep an eye on him while he played legos with Quin.
Potty training had me on high alert all day, watching carefully for him to wet his underwear so I could rush him to the bathroom. I gave him as many juice boxes as he wanted and still no pee! Finally we set him on the toilet and he resisted. Michael went down to get him a candy for trying. He fussed and then paused and excitedly whispered "I'm doing it!" He finally went. We were so happy! Ammon was delighted by my happy dance. We called grandma Dodge and Ammon reported to her that "I peed in the toilet!" My parents were excited and have been helping us in our potty training efforts. After the success, we were met with some disappointment. I had been keeping an eye on Ammon, knowing it would be time to go again very soon. He ran downstairs and while he was out of my sight for one minute, he peed all over the floor and on two of our favorite books that had been left out. Quin had been asking me for a candy like what Ammon got, and I finally told him if he helped me clean up the pee I would give him one. He didn't want to at first, but when I was nearly finished Quin ran over with a rag and helped. I was disappointed that every time I laid down for a rest, Michael would put a diaper back on Ammon. I felt like he wasn't helping me and that he expected me to do the potty training all by myself. Later I learned that Ammon had peed into the drawer with the baby bottles while standing on a chair next to the counter and Michael couldn't handle it anymore. We decided maybe potty training should go on hold for now.
Sunday I was exhausted. Even though I had slept in until 10 that day and the day before, it felt like I still needed hours more. I did stay up until 3 AM Sunday morning from insomnia. Anyway, Sunday was a rough day. Motivation and energy levels were rock bottom. I tried to pay attention to the conference messages but felt like I wasn't getting anything out of them. It was hard to concentrate. My parents came over while I was still sleeping. My mom changed Ammon's diaper and he didn't want another diaper, he wanted to wear just underwear. So he was back in underwear. But hey, if we have some momentum going, we should just go for it, right? It was exhausting, even having extra adults around to help. By the end of the day Michael was exhausted too and asked if he could have some rest. I didn't feel like I could handle it but I begrudgingly said yes and he laid down for a nap at 4:30 pm.
I needed to get out of my house and go somewhere. I couldn't stand to be home. I called my mom to see if we could come over. She had to be at my grandma's for a dinner party that evening. Who else could I call to invite ourselves over for dinner? Where could we go? I had only eaten two pieces of strawberry jam toast all day and was starving. I was too overwhelmed to feed my people, even if they would stop demanding things from me long enough for me to prepare food. Quin was crying because he wanted some pee to clean up so he could earn another candy. He had been asking for a piano lesson for days and I had been to exhausted and overwhelmed to do it. I told him over and over I would give him one if he practiced the piano. He finally agreed, but on the condition that he would only play the Star Wars song. Fine. Ammon wanted a "piano lesson," too, and had also been begging to do it for days. Ruby cried in the "bunny cot" as I tried to convince Ammon to play his part of the duet like he did it before a week ago. Michael eventually came down to hold Ruby. I felt bad that I wasn't giving him the rest he needed. I felt bad that I was failing as a piano teacher to my children in spite of being a successful piano teacher to other people's kids. I felt bad that potty training wasn't going well and Ammon would need to stay in diapers longer. Perhaps indefinitely. (I know, I know. It will happen. Maybe)
I was so overwhelmed I couldn't even handle emptying a small garbage can. I felt like my proverbial "cup" was not only empty. It had rolled off the table and the kids were smacking it on the ground as hard as they could. I was close to breaking.
The stress built and swelled inside until a breaker flipped in my brain. A fuse blew. I went from saying "I can't do this" over and over to thoughts of wanting to go to sleep and never wake up. I started to think about all the sleeping pills I had seen at the store while I was looking for my regular Unisom bottle and wondering if taking several bottles of different types of sleeping pills would do the trick. I was filled with darkness, imploding. I laid down with Ruby to try to nurse her. She didn't seem interested in eating, despite her earlier fussiness. She wanted to look at me and socialize, cooing and smiling up at me. The though came, "I love you, but I would still leave you." It was at that point I knew I needed help. I didn't know where to go or who to call. It was 6 PM on a Sunday night. Urgent care was closed. My doctor's office was closed. It was dinner time for everyone else, I didn't want to interrupt a friend or be a burden to anyone. I remembered all the times counselors, midwives, and doctors had told me to go to the ER if I was suicidal. I had always thought that was overkill, but I knew my life was in danger and I needed help. I went downstairs and put on my coat and shoes and announced to Michael that I was headed to the emergency room and needed his car keys. He tried to calm me down. "Why don't you just talk to me about it?" No, I need professional, medical help. He talked me into staying until he could make me some dinner. He made pancakes and I devoured them as fast as he could make them. Then at 6:30 I left for the ER in Michael's car. "Come home to us" he said as I walked out the door.
On the way to the ER I had thoughts that I shouldn't do this. I should just turn around and go home. I would be wasting people's time and energy and taking them away from people who had "real" medical problems. I felt so hopeless, I kept going; knowing it was the last thing to try before all the sleeping pills. I parked and got out in the rain and walked briskly towards the sliding doors. I felt better about this. I was going to get help. Inside the first set of sliding glass doors I could see a man sitting at a desk through some windows. Then I started to panic. Was he the person I would have to talk to? Oh, no; what am I going to say? During the car ride I had tried to rehearse in my mind what to say at the admissions desk. The man in the window wasn't the one I needed to talk to. He must have been security or something. There were two women sitting behind the security desk. One of them with long dark hair pulled open the sliding window and cheerfully asked "can I help you?" I could hardly speak. I mumbled "I need help" as panic seared my eyes. I tried to say more, but was paralyzed. She kindly suggested "let's start with your name and date of birth." I got that out and then was able to express my thoughts of suicide. She directed me back to the triage room where she gave me an ID bracelet. "I'm actually being admitted," I thought. Then I waited for the triage nurse to come. She came in, very business like and started firing questions right away. My anxiety rose even more. My hands fidgeted and I could hardly meet her eyes.
"Why do you want to kill yourself?"
"I just can't do it anymore."
"Can't do what?"
"Take care of the kids... and everything."
She informed me that because of my suicide plan she would need to take my belongings, including my phone, and lock them up. I consented. I felt like I didn't care anymore. Sure, take my stuff. I won't need it. Take it, I don't want to be responsible for anything anymore. She took me back to a room in the ER and gave me a bag for my possessions. She also laid out some blue paper scrubs and fuzzy, non-skid socks for me to change into. They left the door open. I waited for it to be closed, after a few minutes of hesitation I went into the corner to change. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to take my underwear off, so I kept it on. My nurse, a blonde named Laci, came in and asked if I still had a tank top on underneath. I said yes and she informed me that I needed to take everything off except the scrubs. She left the room and I complied. When she came back I asked for a chuck pad for the bed, explaining that I was still bleeding from the IUD insertion/possibly from Ruby's delivery still. She got me a disposable pair of maternity underwear and a pad. Someone had to accompany me and stand outside the door every time I went to the bathroom. That made my bladder shy knowing someone was waiting and listening for me just outside the door. Another nurse, Emily, made me a makeshift bra by cutting another pair of underwear into a tube. She cut a pad in half for me to use as breast pads, for which I was grateful. I would have been a leaky mess. The room had one wall with all of the electrical outlets, oxygen ports, a sink, and some cabinets. A garage door could be raised and lowered to enclose it. My things went under the sink and the garage door was closed and locked. The other walls were off white and plain, with only a small plaque that listed the patient's legal rights. There was a small bed with rounded edges and stone gray fitted sheet. They got me a warm blanket and soon the ER doctor came in the talk to me. My nurse stayed came in the room with him. It was much better than the interrogation I'd had with the triage nurse. He was very kind and had a soft voice. After talking about why I was there and some background medical history stuff, he told me they would do some labs and a social worker from Linn county mental health would come to do an evaluation.
The phlebotomist came not long after and it seemed like she took several vials of blood. More than the average draw. After she left I curled up on the bed, still feeling empty inside and anxious. But this unadorned room provided me with what I needed most: an escape. There was nothing to clean or tidy up. No one needed me. I could lay down and rest with no responsibilities. No possessions even to keep track of or worry about. It was the best vacation I could imagine. Pretty ironic since it was basically a prison cell. There was a camera in the room and a nurse stationed just outside monitoring all 4 rooms in the area. I lay there, feeling empty in this empty, blank room. It felt like I was a character in a story and not actually myself. I was suspended in time, with no idea how long I had been there; enclosed within layers of walls and unable to perceive the light levels outdoors. And the really strange thing was, I didn't care. I didn't want to know what time it was, or how long I would be there. I didn't want to have to face reality. I lay there staring up at the ceiling, the two bright rectangular lights blasting the room with illumination. I could hear a nurse struggling with an uncooperative patient next door.
It was hard to get comfortable on the bed. My back, shoulders, and neck hurt from hours of holding Ruby and from clenching my teeth at night. A kind CNA noticed me shielding the light from my eyes and asked if I wanted the light turned off. What a blessed relief to be enfolded in darkness! I asked her for a second pillow but that still didn't help much with the discomfort. I got some rest amid all the tossing and turning while I waited for some food to arrive. It took a long time to get it, but it was one of the most amazing turkey sandwiches I've ever had in my life. I could hear my phone ringing inside my purse behind the garage door. I knew it was probably Michael, worrying if I had made it to the hospital okay. He called six times and left a voicemail and a message. It didn't stress me out because there was nothing I could do. I was in limbo, with no responsibilities. I kept thinking "he's just going to have to be a big boy and figure this out." I couldn't be there to tell him what or how to do any of it. I was a little worried about the small supply of milk in the freezer at home. I knew it wouldn't be enough for the night. We had three sample cans of Similac in the pantry that had come in the mail. I worried that Michael wouldn't know where they were and that he would go to the store to buy formula. A few hours after the admission, the social worker came. She was wearing a lifeguard sweatshirt and flip flops. She apologized for looking like a hobo. She said she got called in and hadn't finished washing her laundry. She was very friendly and I liked her instantly. It was very reassuring to talk to her and work on where to go from here. The tentative plan was for me to stay at the hospital for a few days until things calmed down. But, we would make an official decision in the morning. There weren't enough beds at the hospital/mental hospital in Corvallis, so I would need to stay in the ER overnight. I was okay with that and looking forward to a few days of "vacation" at the hospital. Although, I kept thinking "I hope I'll be well enough to come home by Tuesday evening." I was scheduled to have my second lesson with a new piano student and I was really excited for it. I wished I would have thought of that as something to live for earlier when I was planning to kill myself. I expressed my fears about having enough for the baby to eat at home. She got me a cordless phone to call Michael. It reminded me of the phone we had at my house growing up. Such archaic technology! I was glad I had Michael's phone number memorized. He sounded glad to hear my voice, and even a like he was about to cry. He had called the hospital to see if I had made it safely and they couldn't tell him any more than that. I told him I might be in the hospital for a few days and asked if he could take the work off to take care of the kids. He said if his work said no he would quit right then. (It didn't come to that, his work was very supportive of him taking care of his wife and children.) I told him where the formula was and asked about Ruby and the boys. All was well. After the phone call the social worker and I finished our conversation. I felt much more at ease after having a rest and after talking to her. I wasn't sure if I would get any sleep that night on the hard bed with all the pain I was in. I asked for some ibuprofen but never got any. (It ended up not being a problem. I slept really well).
It had been a while since I had nursed Ruby. I was needing a pump and pretty anxious about what to do. Should I just express milk into my empty water cup? Have Michael or my mom bring my pump over? It was after 10 PM and Quin and Ammon would be asleep. I didn't know if they would let me use the phone again and my mom didn't even know I was in the hospital. I didn't want to wake her up. I finally summoned the courage to ask the nurse for a pump. She wheeled one over from L&D. I had only ever used an electric pump once and it was really painful and horrible. I was nervous to use this one, but it had to be done! So I got it started and it was just fine. It was really efficient and after about 5 minutes I had filled the little 2.5 ounce bottles they had given me. I really needed to get more out. I didn't want to get a breast infection on top of everything else that was going on. The nurse brought the only other bottles she could find: two teeny tiny one ounce bottles. I thought "this is ridiculous. I can fill that up in 30 seconds!" She decided we would use labeled bio-hazard bags to store the milk since they don't leak. When I was done they took the milk to the L&D freezer and closed the garage with the pump inside.
I tossed and turned for a little while, but knowing I had no reason to get out of bed, I eventually fell asleep. I woke up at 5 am and as soon as I opened my eyes I wished I was back asleep and unconscious. I was overwhelmed by the sudden need to drink water, pee, and pump. I laid in bed for several minutes, feeling too overwhelmed to do anything. I finally got out of bed met my needs to release the excess fluid from my bladder and breasts. I drank lots of water and then fell back asleep quickly. I was awoken by a woman entering the room. She had striking, gorgeous long, curly black hair, dark eyes, and thick dark eyelashes. She was the maternal health coordinator from the hospital. She showed me so much empathy and understanding. She wanted me to know that I was not alone and not crazy. After gently asking me about my experience, she shared with me that she had experienced serious postpartum depression. Something that really stayed with me was: she described it as waking up in the morning and instantly having the sensation of a shoe dropping on your chest. That's exactly what it feels like!
I was feeling refreshed after a good sleep and was surprised to learn that it was 10 AM. The new hall nurse ordered me some breakfast. My new nurse came in and introduced himself. I was surprised that it was a man with gray hair. His name was Peter and he was wearing a face mask. He told me someone from Linn county mental health would be there within the hour to talk to me about a plan. After he left I started to worry about the kids. How did Michael's night go with Ruby? Did the formula work? Did she drink it? Did it upset her stomach? I missed her and wanted to hold her. Did Michael know that he needed to take Quin to preschool at 11:30?
I asked the nurse if I could use the phone again to tell my husband to take the 5 year old to preschool. She said she wasn't sure if I could be allowed to make a phone call for that reason. I felt like I collapsed a little on the inside. Stuck here, no way to communicate to make sure things were taken care of. Then I asked if I could call him to have someone pick up the milk I had pumped for the baby. They said yes and I made the call. My mom was there. She had come to take the boys to Music Makers and surprised that no one had told her I was at the ER. I asked her if she could come get the milk and be here for the planning meeting with the social worker. She said she would come after dropping Quin off at preschool and offered to have my dad take care of Ammon and Ruby so Michael could come be a part of the conversation. I was relieved to have all of that taken care of.
When my mom arrived I recognized her footsteps before I saw her face in the window of the door. I was so relieved to see her. I felt guilty that I was a 26 year old baby, still needing her to take care of me. Still making demands on her time and emotional faculties. She helped me laugh and we had a great conversation as I ate my breakfast of a sausage and egg McMuffin, greasy bacon, and lack luster fruit. The meals were served in "safe trays" with no utensils or anything that could be used to cause bodily harm. Peter went searching for a plastic fork for my fruit. It took him a while and some effort to get a hold of one. I joked that the hearty meal they provided was like a heart attack on a plate; as if they were hoping to get return customers. My mom and I did some yoga together and eventually Michael joined us. He gave me a very tender hug and we sat down next to each other and talked as we waited for the social worker. She joined us and was extremely helpful. We made a very specific safety plan that Michael suggested laminating. I was feeling much better and wanted to go home and dive in to the un-done tasks I had left behind. We decided further hospitalization was not necessary and that I should go home and have my family members help me get the house in shape. When we were done discussing, my mom took the frozen milk and went to pick up Quin from school. Michael and I talked and laughed as we waited for the discharge papers. It was like our early years together before kids. Our old relationship was still there, alive, though maybe a bit wilted under the weight of caring and providing for three kids. I didn't realize how much I missed just having spare time to talk and laugh with him.
Michael took Tuesday off work as well. He and Ruby went with me to the follow up visit with my regular doctor. She was unbelievably kind and sensitive. I started crying when she told me I was worth caring for. She told us that our homework was to go on a date before my next appointment with her 4 weeks. Michael took me out to dinner after I finished teaching. He arranged for some kind friends to babysit all 3 kids. The date was very refreshing, and not just because I got a delicious peach lemonade. After dinner I asked Michael if we could go to Starbucks for a hot chocolate. The second social worker had suggested finding a place to go outside the house to get a break. I knew it would be hard to go somewhere new when I was feeling overwhelmed, so I wanted to check it out while I was feeling okay. I'm glad to have a sweet memory of sharing a hot chocolate with Michael there as we laughed and talked on the funky lounge chairs.
I think I'm going to be okay. I got overwhelmed this afternoon, but I was feeling brave and I reached out to some good friends and felt supported, loved, and cared for. I am planning to reach out more. I tend to suffer in silence because I don't want to bother or burden anyone. But I know my friends and family care about me and want me to be well. Love you guys!
If you want to help but are not sure what to do, I LITERALLY always have laundry to wash, fold, and/or put away. I tried for 3 days straight to get it all done and I could never completely conquer the laundry. Come over and fold some laundry. I will love you forever!
I love holding Ruby, but I do it for many hours a day. I would love to have a break to practice the piano, shower, bake muffins, or do a yoga DVD. If you're hankering to fill your baby fix, text me to see if we're home and come hold her!
Have Quin and/or Ammon over for a play date, or bring your kids over to play in the backyard. My kids have been glued to screens for so long and I feel guilty about that.
If you're far away and want to do something, message me about a memory you have with me or why the world needs one of me, if you can think of any reasons.
Thanks for reading! Have a great day!
