The Daycare Choice...

One of my closest friends this week took her child, for the first time, to daycare...and has it been a rough and emotional week for her....and one I remember well.

Almost exactly four years ago (in May) I dropped my little 13 week old, Hannah, off to The St. Charles Child Development Center (CDC) and I cried as I walked in...cried as I walked out...cried as I drove to work...cried as I walked into my office...cried, well, you get the picture.  I wasn't completely on-board with this whole "working mom" outside of the home thing.  Truth be told, there was several times that first month back at work, I thought about leaving my career and staying home.

But something held me back from that decision....well, a few things really.  You see I love my career and am happier b/c of it.  Make no mistake, it's hard and there are days that I dislike and would like a "re-do" button.  Yet, overall I knew, in my gut, in that first month back at work in May 2008 I am who I am and my career is an integral part of me. AND I knew (again, in my gut) that Hannah would be a happier baby b/c momma was happy.

As women we tend to judge each other as to whether we stay home or work outside of the home....and I'm here to say: there is no perfect choice.  Rather, there is only the best choice we, as individuals, need to decide for our families.  I have respect and admiration for my friends who stay home full time...but that isn't me.  And, my choice isn't theirs...and that is OKAY.

For me, my choice is daycare and I am thankful for the CDC.  The structure and lesson plans the teachers have at every level leaves me in awe.  I am grateful to them b/c they are teaching my girls and when Hannah tells me about her day she talks about her friends, her teachers and what they did in their classroom during the day.

Someone once asked me if the CDC takes care of my girls like I do...and that answer is no.  CDC doesn't replace me, rather, it's an extension of me. I remember one story in particular: Hannah was about 5 months, and Tim was working long hours so I picked her up for school...as I picked her up from her rolling position on the floor, I actually could have sworn she just stared at me blankly, as if to ask, "Who are you?" Well, the waterworks of tears started as soon as I got into my car...In fact, I called Tim and cried about how she didn't seem to care that I picked her up.  He, being Tim, chuckled and said: "Sarah she's only five months old and likely just tired. Honey you are her mom and nothing replaces that." And guess what?? He was right.  But don't tell him I said that...;)

I am mom and nothing replaces that.  The teachers at the CDC are there to TEACH my girls and help them grow as little people.  Hannah and CJ look to me to instill values, right and wrong, morals and to lead by example. My girls know I am mom and they know the CDC is a part of their day to teach them, to make new friends, to play and to, well, be kids.  In fact, my favorite part of the day is when I now come home to running feet and hearing the words MOMMY come out of their mouths.   

Whatever choice we make for our kids, is what's right for our families.  And as I get ready for bed, I rest knowing that the choice I have made is the right one for my family.

Journey through darkness...

As I sat reading the news today I came across an article about how much postpartum depression goes undiagnosed and under-treated.  It was at that moment that I decided to tell my story.  Not for the sake of telling it...rather, to share my journey through postpartum depression or PPD as I call it now.:

Yes, it's true: I survived postpartum depression.   I am one of the roughly 15 percent of women who come down with PPD following the birth of a child.  Never thought it would happen to me.   When Hannah was born I had nothing but joy and happiness all throughout my maternity leave so when Caroline came I thought “why would anything be different?”  In fact, during my pregnancy with Caroline I often thought of how “easy” this second child would be b/c I’ve already been through it once and it was another girl.  I couldn’t have been more wrong…PPD hit me and it hit me hard.

Anxiety. Depression. Sleepless nights. Yup, that was me and then some.  I had panic attacks when I was with my girls and when I was without them.  Went to a restaurant once and had to head to the bathroom to calm myself down b/c I was anxious around people…yes, to those who know me, you read that right.  Me…the person whose job is  public relations!  BUT it was me, for a time… 

And sleep, what was that? I couldn’t close my eyes and sleep…people say you’re supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps.  Yeah, right.  Fact was I couldn’t sleep as my thoughts raced and my panic attacks started.  Came to be that I dreaded night…I often say I forgot how to sleep and in some ways that was true.

When did it start, you ask?  Three weeks almost to the day of when Caroline was born.  Did I recognize it right away?  Yes…sorta.  I knew after that first panic attack and sleepless night that something wasn’t right but denied it was PPD for a few weeks. In fact, I've come to learn that denial is common...after all, who really wants to admit that...not I.  At first anyway...

 

I DID see my OB but it wasn’t a great experience.  They are nice enough folks but oddly enough they couldn’t deal with what I was going through and weren’t trained to help me.  It was PPD after all and you’d think an OB office could help since its direct result of hormones and having a baby.  BUT turns out they can’t…

So, my journey took me to my family practice physician who helped in more ways than I could have ever anticipated.  They treated me with compassion and love during every visit, sometimes two or three times a week.  And my doc said something I will always be grateful for:  “Sarah, you are normal but hormones do funny things to our bodies.  You will get through this and continue to be a wonderful mom.” Thank you Dr. F.  

Slowly through support and medication I started to come out of the darkness and rays of sunshine poked thru…and what a welcome they were!  And I started to enjoy my girls again and relish Caroline as the baby she was…no longer the newborn, newborn BUT it didn’t matter…

And then there was my family, particularly Tim, my husband.  When we married in 2003 we promised “In sickness and health…” well, that proved to be true.  He was left to do the majority of the care and parenting of the kids while I worked through this…there were tears on both our ends but thru it all we grew stronger together. He was the family rock and, while he didn’t completely understand what I was going thru, he knew I wasn’t his wife during that time and I needed help. And I think he said a few prayers himself that I'd come back soon =)

Our network of family was immense...they say "it takes a village to raise a child" and it my case I couldn't have asked for a better "village." Everyone step up, wrapped their arms around me and our little family…even at 2 a.m. one morning when I was panicked and not sleeping, I called my sister who talked to me for more than an hour.  She didn’t say she was sleeping (which of course she was at 2 AM!), rather, she just talked and listen to me rattle on about who knows what…   

And then there was my mom...her youngest daughter was going through something that scared even her but she never lost faith...Halloween 2010 will forever be part of my memory as she came over that night just to be with me.  She cried with me and held me…it was that night I came to recognize that this wasn’t just simply “anxiety”.  Rather, it was, in fact, PPD.

Eventually the rays became brighter and the panic attacks became less and less til there were none.  The sleepless night went the same way…and slowly I was "ME" again.  

 And the PPD became a memory….EXCEPT it is one that will never be forgotten b/c it changed me.  As a person. As a mother.  And for that I am thankful.  Yup, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger…and I am. Stronger. Kinder and More real.

I AM the face of PPD.  And to tell all women who may be suffering from PPD: you too will come out of the darkness.    

AND you are not alone….there are many of us…and we are real...it doesn't make us weaker, but, rather stronger. 

Non stop chatter...

"What goes around comes around"...

No saying has ever been more true that this one as of right now.  I was a talker when I was young.  To anyone who knows me, it's no surprise...there's a reason I went into public relations =)  I love people and have made "talking" an art!  Well, I think there is a four year old on her way to that same title.  For more than an hour now, Hannah has proceeded to talk to me about everything...colors, her friends at school, saying the alphabet, CJ, Tim, the cats, etc...truthfully, I've lost track of everything she's telling me.  It's a bit much really. 

But yet, it is who she is.  She is her mother's daughter and I'm quickly realizing that more and more.  Have a feeling that when she gets into kindergarten that her biggest area of improvement will be just that--talking.

My mom used to ask me to be silent for a moment so she could think....and, I'm admitting here and now that I'm about to say that same line to Hannah.  It's funny how we used to think our parents were crazy to say some of the lines they said.  Tonight, I thank my mom for that line b/c now I know what she means....