Blog Post for Mental Health for Parents

I had a good upbringing. I lived in a positive, encouraging and supportive home with two parents who loved me and I felt secure. I was secure in who I was as a girl. I didn't always 'feel' pretty but I knew that my heart was good and that someday I would meet someone who would love me for me and make me feel beautiful by the way he treated me. But for the awkward days of the early teens I had acne, I was ugly. But my heart shined through. My good heart was beautiful. I had confidence with who I was and tried not to let the 'ugly' or the bullies get me down. But it was during those awkward years that I found out that I had an abnormal reproductive system. That there was a kink in communication to my ovaries. So I had to deal with that. We didn't try any remedies to attempt to repair the problem. I just took medicine to get a period. Well years later, I did find that one man who made me feel complete and beautiful. He was warned by my mother that we may not have children or could lose children because of my 'issues'. He still wanted a life with me. Thank God! After some testing (now as an adult) we discovered that the 'issue' I had been dealing with since puberty was identified as hypothalamic amenorrhea. A condition that halts ovulation. Well 3 years after we were married we went to a fertility specialist and to our surprise the first cycle of treatment worked like a charm. And it was twins! I was excited. I didn't think of anything going wrong and had confidence that we'd see them to the end or at least until the projected 36 weeks. But at 19 weeks I got sick, they got sick and tragically I delivered them at 20 weeks and they died. I was changed. My confidence was shaken, my security was ripped from my body and my mind. I was broken. The next months of dealing with the grief were horrible and finally I started on an antidepressant. After 6 month I was coping and living. After a year my husband and I thought we were ready to try again. So we tried. And the cycle went perfectly. Pregnant again. But after a short 5 weeks it was over. Lost. I think I can successfully self diagnose that I was dealing with post traumatic stress disorder. I wanted to know what it felt like to be a mom. I mean, I am a mom but I want to feed and change my babies, teach them the abc song and love them up when they get a scrape. I was a mother, but a broken one. My innocence of enjoying pregnancy and all the hopes and dreams of it were ruined. The next time we tried I was excited to try but not excited for the results of the test. I was terrified. I can't do this again... And the test was positive. I had to be strong. Then we found out it was one. Then we found out it was a girl. And up until the 20 weeks gestation where I was with the twins I wasn't connecting with my baby. I wasn't ready to give my heart to a baby who I might lose tomorrow. For all I knew that could be her fate too. I had anxiety and sadness over carrying this baby longer than the twins. That THIS baby would have all the firsts. That THIS baby I would hear cry first, change her diaper first. Rock her to sleep first. All of these things kept me from loving her. Thankfully most of these feelings left once she was safely in my arms. Christmas morning, 2008. I had a moving, breathing baby in my arms. I was filled with joy and sadness all at once. As I rocked her I told her of her brothers. I told her I loved her. I told her that she was helping to heal my broken heart. My beautiful heart that would be filled with joy and laughter because of her. Filled with memories because of her. Filled with wisdom and pride because of her. And while she (and time) has healed my heart and given me the opportunity to be a mommy here on earth, my heart will never be whole. But it's a whole lot easier with her in my arms