How I knew I had PPD

The possibility of having postpartum depression was one of the many, many things I worried about during my pregnancy. I have a history of anxiety and - while not technically depression, I have been known to be fretful and melancholy.
In hindsight, I wish I'd mentioned the possibility to my doctor even sooner. I waited about 5 weeks, and by then I was crying all the time, impatient and snappish with my husband and frustrated with my daughter. I feel like I should have known something was off when I lost my cool over a completely innocuous comment made by my husband the day we came home from the hospital. My mother, stepfather, brother and nephew were all here to see the baby, and we arrived home late the night after the Raspberry was born. All my husband said was, "Where's her hat?" and I felt the (completely erroneous) weight of unspoken accusation behind it.
A really helpful resource for new moms who might think they have PPD is a website called Postpartum Progress. They have this list of symptoms of PPD and postpartum anxiety written so anyone can understand it, not just medical professionals.
The list really resonated with me and still does to some extent. At my pre-medicated worst, I wasn't eating, I was crying all the time, and I couldn't sleep even when the baby was asleep because I was on edge constantly, convinced she was going to wake up at any moment.
If you are having any of the symptoms on the list, please contact your doctor. Even if you're not sure, even if you feel guilty (which you shouldn't) please let your doctor know how you're feeling. Even though I'm not out of the woods just yet, things are immeasurably better now that I am taking some medicine to balance things out.
And as always, if you are feeling these things and just need someone to talk to, you can email me at ppdtbh@gmail.com. I'm here to listen.

Working, mom?

At age 17, I was taking orders over the phone and waiting tables at the most filth-encrusted Pizza Hut in central Indiana. I slid on the black headset with unwieldy battery pack at McDonalds one summer, where I rinsed dishes until the early morning hours. I made sandwiches and lattes, wrote business stories and took shaky video in a Kentucky courtroom. I spent one miserable month trying to sell warranties to surly Best Buy customers so I could make rent my senior year of college.

The point is, until Raspberry came along, I have always worked. I had to stop working 33 weeks into my pregnancy because of early labor, and my boss could never get me working from home approved.

I tried to return to work when the Raspberry was 6 weeks old, but my depression and guilt, along with an ill-timed nursing strike from my tiny human, made it clear to me then:  I needed to be at home with my baby so she could thrive and I could recover. 

She's almost 6 months old now and starting on solids. She still nurses quite often, but it's not every 45 minutes like it used to be. And our finances are looking grim.

I'm starting to put in applications for part-time work. I think if I can find something local, it will be all right to leave the raspberry with papa on his days off and go make us some make-those-ends-meet money. It's not only a financial necessity, I think it may help with my recovery as well. Days when we make it out of the house are always better than the days we stay cloistered. 

What are your experiences with working or staying home with your children? What advice do you have? Please leave a comment below.