Blue (and yellow)

Bubba Joe and his cousins had their nails done this week.

I was painting the girls’ nails – something we always do together, and Bubba Joe wanted his painted too … what do you think?

Burg Vischering – A Visit

Today was classic German weather – rain and cold.  Followed by bursts of blue and sunshine, only to be reminded again that we are indeed in Germany … more rain and grey.

In spite of the weather, we ventured out to Burg Vischering (pronounced berg fisher ring) in Lüdinghausen.

We’ve been there before … in fact, we go there with every visitor (excepting mom – we just didn’t have time with her).  It was gorgeous and the children all had fun.

Here’s some pictures … enjoy!

There is an ad

I think it’s a magazine ad.  It’s a few years old and it’s from the States.

Maybe it’s a TV ad.

I don’t remember.

But it’s about depression.

It shows a woman, I think she’s in a kitchen.  And it says that depression hurts.  It hurts more than just the one who is in a depression.

I keep thinking of that advertisement.

It’s fitting.

The first time around, after Bubba Joe, after my dad died, after my life as I knew it changed (mom remarried, family fell apart, I quit my dream job because I just couldn’t balance work and being a mom), it was all about me.  Now, if you know me IRL you might joke that it’s always about me.

And to some extent, you’d be right.

But honestly, I did not see the effects my depression had on my marriage, on my child, on friends.  I could barely function in a daily capacity.  Thinking about others was nowhere near anything I could even, well, think of.

This time though, it’s different.

I am so sad for the affect my depression has on BJD, on Bubba Joe, on Little Girl.  On my friends – whom I think of often but never call.

Everything is just so much effort.

And tiring.

We’ve switched BP meds.  If these don’t work, we will be forced to switch to formula.  I know … I recently posted about not liking BFing that much, but when it comes down to it, I just want to know that there are options.  I’m like that.  I need to have choices.  Choices make me feel good.  And being told that if this med doesn’t work, I’ll have to stop – I won’t have a choice in the matter – well, that’s pressure.

And don’t ya’ll think I need to put more pressure on me?  (said oh so sarcastically – see, guess I am feeling somewhat okay!)

I don’t get it.  I get so damned frustrated by this whole depression thing.  I have so many days in a row that are great.  I mean, kick ass, I’m feeling great, going for walks, feeling capable (and showering and brushing my teeth – which for those of you who don’t know how bad it can get, the first time it was a huge undertaking for me to keep up with even simple hygiene).  I start feeling strong.

Then wham! I just feel … hmm, there’s so many words.  Let me just list them: overwhelmed, heavy, exhausted, tired, like I want to crawl in a hole, not good enough and yet not really not good enough, not like me, sad, empty, scared, strange, faithful, and loved.  Strange emotions, eh?

And then I look at BJD and I see how all this weighs on him.

And then I look at Bubba Joe.  He’s 3.  This is affecting him.  I can see it.  And it scares me.  But more than the fear, it really inspires me to keep moving forward, to heal, to get better.

Because while I can not see the light at the end of the tunnel, I know that it is there.  I know that I do not walk alone this time.

But it’s still hard.  It is, as I told BJD today, in the midst of tears, ridiculously hard.

I watched something the other day on the web where a woman was talking about admitting she had PPD and she was right.  Once I admitted it, I wanted to heal.  Right then and there.  I wanted that little magic pill to make it all better.  To make it all right.  To make me right.  She goes on to say that it’s unrealistic.  It will take time – sometimes even years.  But it will happen.

I believe that.

Getting things in order

My sis arrives Saturday morning.  Me being sick last week really put the pressure on to get our house organized, cleaned and ready for our guests.   Thankfully, all is done.

BJD and I are getting ready to head out and go grocery shopping.

I cleaned, I mean I seriously cleaned our 2nd floor.  Our bedroom was gross!  It had been 3 weeks since it had seen the swiffer and it thanked me afterwards.

I saw our homeopath last week, before I got sick regarding my PPD.  He gave me these small kügelchien (tiny balls) to take but I didn’t take them until I really felt better was human again.

I don’t know if it’s the homeopathic crap or if it’s because my doc halved my BP meds (I requested a switch because 1) they’re not working, my numbers are still high, and 2) a side effect is depression.  Now before you go thinking my doctor is stupid, this is the medicine I was put on during my first pregnancy that my body responded well to (I hung in for 6 weeks).  And I was only on it a very short time this last time with Little Girl.  Being me (i.e. still of the mindset that meds are $$$) I requested that we try what I already had – I mean I had a box full of these.  But at 5€ for new meds, I don’t think that was smart …)

So I halved my BP meds last week, took the balls this week and wouldn’t you know it?  This old gal is starting to feel more like myself than I have in a long time.  I have energy.  I have drive.  I am still short-tempered, but that really is just me.  It’s the temper that I know – the temper that after nearly 35 years, I have some real ideas of when it’s coming and how to control it.  (Now whether or not I choose to is another story!)

I’m very excited to see my sis.  And my nieces.  And my nephew.  It will be a nice 4 weeks with them.  We have the space.  Our DHH (half of a house) has 3 bedrooms, 1 office (that is basically a big room  with a futon and lots of stuff piled up in the corner), and 2 full baths.  A nice sized, fully fenced in back yard with a train that runs behind that finishes it off.  And of course, we are tucked very nicely away from the street.

Speaking of which, a story … the other day my inlaws came by to visit.  Normally we lock the door to keep Bubba Joe in (our door closes but you have to lock it with a key to lock it).  I forgot.  At some point, the doorbell rang.  My FIL went to answer the door, I went to put the dogs in the crate (they bark and tend to get obnoxious – small dogs …).  FIL opens the door and there stands Bubba Joe.  T-shirt, boxers, rainboots.  Outside.

Lesson learned.  Always lock the door.

(I am so thankful beyond belief that he tends to be on the cautious side.  And he rang the bell.  Dude.  Seriously.)

Struggling

One of the things that kept me afloat with Bubba Joe was breastfeeding.

It was very important to me.

And it was the only thing that I alone could do.

He had a milk allergy.  I stopped all dairy.  I became obsessed with label reading.  I made all his food.  (He hated it btw – preferred jarred stuff.)

This time around, BFing is so wicked easy.  Seriously.  There were a few hiccups in the hospital.  (Like no one told me that the afterbirth  contractions increase with each pregnancy – dude, it felt like someone was stabbing me with hot pokers.  And it was worse when nursing.  Ouch!)  And I was tired after being sick, failed induction and a 2nd c/section.  Little Girl got her fair share of formula in the hospital – because I knew once we got home we’d be on our own terms.

But now … she’s really a pro.  Never had a latch issue.  Knows when to eat more to increase flow (like this past week when I came down with not just a stomach virus, no not just one thing, but strep throat on top of that.  I lost 5 pounds in 2 days.  And milk flow dropped.  Little girl is eating more frequently to build that supply back up.)

I keep going back and forth about switching to formula.

Please please please give me words of encouragement.  And only positive statements please (no formula bashing – because if I do switch, I fear there will be enough guilt.  And seriously, I have nothing against FF, or at least I don’t think I do.)

BTW – the household help has been great.

Taking the meds in the AM instead of the PM is helping.

And other than being knocked on my butt from being sick, I generally feel as though I just might come out of this A-OK.

But I just need some words of encouragement … so if you have any to spare …

Hey expats, I need your help!

I am still in contact with one of my college professors.  I adore her.  She was the reason I chose the college I did and has influenced my life in many ways.

I have been speaking with her about the many differences in healthcare I have experienced here in comparison to the States.

Would any of you be willing to share some of your experiences?  or do you know of some good (reputable please) online sources that carefully explain what the system really is like here in Germany?

She is very influential on campus and active politically.  She’s trying to understand that we do pay monthly for our insurance, the care (especially hospitals) isn’t so cushy like in the States (unless of course you are privately insured from what I understand … we’re not, we’re IKK) but the level of medical experitise is top notch (or at least comperable as a whole).

Your thoughts or experiences?

Do you prefer the medical/insurance system in one country over another?

TIA.

Miscellaneous Pictures

BJD has taken Bubba Joe for a walk.  Little Girl is asleep.  I have some alone time.

So … here are some recent pictures!

At a tractor pull with Opa and BJD

At a tractor pull with Opa and BJD

Blowing bubbles

Playing the piano with his cousin

Watching cartoons

Playing together (note the OSU outfit!)

King of the Hill, er slide

Berlin Pictures

Here are some pics of the view from our hotel and just out and about in Berlin.  Mind you, we haven’t ventured much more than a few blocks from our hotel, but still, it’s Berlin!

Beds

Oh yeah, one more thing. Bubba Joe is now in his own bed, in his own room, every night. No more bribery required.

Even here, he’s sleeping on the pull-out couch. He woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to sleep next to mama. He refused to go back to his bed … until I told him daddy was going to sleep in his bed. (I meant it though, I was soooo tired!) He said No! Daddy no! You can’t sleep in my bed!!!

Ahhh … I’m so happy.

Potty training has also begun. For that, we are still bribing. I’ll be sure to post more later.

Hello from Berlin – and an update

BJD has to do some fieldwork throughout Germany.  We’ve decided to take the opportunity to do a bit of sightseeing.  In the 10 years since we’ve known each other (yes, it really has been that long!), I’ve seen very little of this country.

So right now, I’m writing from our hotel in Berlin.  Bubba Joe is watching a dvd.  Little Girl is finally asleep.

I plan on writing more about Berlin, but seeing as it has been some time since I’ve updated about me, I’d rather write about that first.

I think one of my last posts was me admitting to myself (and hence, to ya’ll) that I have postpartum depression.

I decided to use this blog as a forum to work through well, work through me.

It’s not something I really want to do.

In fact, I’d be more than happy if I just avoided me.

But the truth is I need to.

I’ve been on meds for just about a month now.  I have a psychiatrist in Dülmen that I saw and who is overseeing my care.  And I met with the oberartzt (chief doc) at a clinic 1/2 drive from us that specializes in postpartum depression.

Thankfully, this time, the depression is not that severe.  We’ve caught it early enough.

I am not going to check into the clinic (at this time).  First off, they specialize in women who have not bonded with their children and are struggling.  That would have been me the first time around.  It was hard to feel close to Bubba Joe.  Even though his NICU stay was relatively short, it was still a NICU stay.  And he was a very colicky, hypersensitive, preemie.  It was ridiculously difficult for me to come to terms with it all.  Add to that experience the recent loss of my dad and my family as I knew them changing drastically and well, the recipe for depression was there.

This time though, I’m mostly overwhelmed.  I just can’t seem to find my footing.  There’ll be one good day and that sets the standard.  Then the next day comes and it is SO opposite the day before that I just crash.  And burn.  And then melt down.

I always expected that with depression, I’d feel, well depressed.

Nope.  Not me.

I feel angry.

and alone.

and pissed off at stupid things.

and alone.

and too needed by everyone.

So I just shut down.

~~~~~~

I have household help.  Six hours a day for this week and next initially.  The doctor will prescribe it again for longer so that I am covered until my sister comes in.

We have the same  woman who Bubba Joe absolutely LOVES.  He cries when he wakes from his nap and I have to tell him that she went home to her children (who are teenagers BTW).

Oh yes, this is the woman that I didn’t like at all.  Not when she first came to work with us.  But I soon realized how much my son adored her.  And that my dislike of her was my insecurities.  Makes me wonder how many people I’ve met who I judged quickly because of me, not them …

~~~~~~

I’m exhausted.  This time it’s a physical (on top of the all-around emotional exhaustion that PPD encompasses).

Bubba Joe started running a fever the night before we left.

Dude.

Seriously.

A fever.

The night before.

Ridiculous.

Fortunately it was low-grade.

We left anyway.

Gave him motrin and tylenol.  It’s all good.

He did great the whole car trip.  Five hours total.

Little Girl did too.

Until the last 1/2 hour.  Go figure.

Then I squished my butt between their 2 carseats to try to entertain her.

She’s screaming on my right.  We’re literally ALMOST there.  To stop and take care of her will take at least an hour.  We push it.

We pull into the city and what do you think happens?  Bubba Joe throws up.

All over himself.

all that … I’ll spare you the details.  Let’s just say gross.

We visited with G and company then headed home.

Took a while to get everyone settled in.  Bubba Joe took a bath (not willingly).  I quickly showered to get the smell of spit up (a constant for us – that’s what you get with a reflux baby) as well as the smell of puke off me.

Little Girl finally crashed.  Bubba Joe crashed.  I crashed.

Now she’s asleep.  By now, hopefully Bubba Joe is too.

I’m off for a nap.

Stupid allergies.  Killing me.  Add to that I think I have a cold.

Enough wallowing in my own misery.  :)

I’m off to rest.

I promise to update ya’ll more … and hopefully soon with pics of the city.

For all of ya’ll here in Berlin that I won’t get to visit, know that I’m thinking of you.  And for G and company, thanks for entertaining us!!!