I stood at the window, holding my sweet newborn baby. I studied these majestic mountains in my new back yard. So close I could walk right out the door and up into them, I would one day, hike these trails. But for now I knew. I knew this new home would be a home of healing. For all of us.
Postpartum depression hit me just a day or two after Bunny, our youngest, was born. I remember standing in the hotel room with all my kids around me and just bursting into tears. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't hide it. The joy that I felt after each of my other kids was replaced with a sorrow as deep and as black as the ocean.
This is a question I have avoided for the past two years. I've tried to write about it, but then I would decide I wasn't ready. For some reason, however, I keep coming back to it. Like it's just got to be out there for me to move on. On to big things that I'm really excited about. But, ok like, then there seems even more stuff that's got to be said to make even that stuff make since.
(Ok, my California City Girl just came out big time in that last sentence.)
But just as Charles Dickens relates in A Christmas Carol, “There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.”
Except there really isn't all that much about my story that's wonderful. Well, not to me, anyway.
There were many events that led up to the start of this blog.
• First we were given a book. I will share the title of this book. But not today.
The original owner of this Guest Ranch liked to write. And when she past away, the ranch managers found a box of her journals and stories. She read them, and then had some of them published into a book.
We arrived here just over two and a half years ago. I read the book that was left for us, as a little history lesson, and felt my calling. I had to continue the stories. I had to continue to share the adventure, the beauty and wonder of this special place.
But there was more. I needed to heal.
• I had to find a way to fight Postpartum Depression.
When we arrived here at the ranch, our youngest child was 21 days old. Moving is hard. Moving with small children is harder. Moving with a newborn is even harder. But that is not where this story began.
Before we came here, my husband worked for another resort. He works hard, he is patient, he is likable. At this resort, we found that not all the people he worked with, or for, shared these qualities. My husband found that many of the upper management (of which he was a part) would get fired if certain people were unhappy with various outcomes. He found himself outlasting all of them. Still, as we saw people come and go, we realized that it really was just a matter of time before our number was up.
Our number did come up. On October 31, 2010. I was five months pregnant.
I handled it well. Oh sure, we cried. But emotionally I handled everything very well. Of course I wouldn't have if my amazing mother-in-law hadn't come and spent two months with us. She was an amazing packer! She moved faster than anyone I had ever seen, getting us boxed up and ready to go. Go where? We had no idea.
We lived in employee housing on the property and HR had told us we could stay past the usual 30 days. In fact, as time ticked on, and baby got bigger, we were told we could stay until baby came. We had one more month to go.
Then, certain people heard about it. Certain people said no. We had to go by the end of the week or we would be charged by the day.
We went. With no offers in sight, we put our stuff in a storage unit and got a hotel room in town.
I tend to deliver my babies quickly. I also go a week or two early. My doctor advised me not to leave town.
The wonderful story of how this remarkable person came into this world is another story. And she deserves to have it all to herself. But job offers did come. And so did the baby. And with her came my PPD.
It has been a scary thing. It's been hard on all of us. I am so sorry for the torment my family has gone through. I haven't been the mother I once was. I get angry faster. This results in me hating myself more. This left me with thoughts of suicide. This escalated to a plan.
I am medicated now. Along with PPD, people with MS have a higher rate of depression than any other chronic illnesses.
But I'm doing much better. And so is my family. We've all grown. And this litte valley in the mountains has done just what I knew it would. It has given us a place to rest and recover.
So now we can move on to greater things.