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Question to Ask Your Postpartum Friends – Signs for Postpartum Depression

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There’s nothing like a new baby in your world, is there? I mean, not your new baby, someone else’s baby! A new squishy for you to hold, snuggle, sniff and love. A new squishy to hand back to Mama when she starts squawking, fussing or crying. It’s magical, beautiful and one of life’s incredible gifts when one of your nearest and dearest friends has a new baby, isn’t it?

But, we all know how difficult Motherhood can be. No matter if it’s your first, second, third or ninth (yow!) baby, a newborn completely changes your world. Sleep deprivation, recovery from birth, hormonal shifts and the all-consuming feeling of inadequacy can often overwhelm new Mamas. We all know that. And, if you’re anything like my friends, you show up with support, love and compassion.

We bring coffee, pizza, cinnamon buns, trail mix, a salad, wine, peanut butter cups, ear plugs, a sleep mask and a kobo gift card because 2am feelings get boring.  We have no idea what our friend is going to want or need so we just bring everything to support, lift and love our friend. We show up. We help out. And now, in this day and age, we get to also help our friends by guiding them through their postpartum months and a big role we get to play now is to watch for signs and symptoms of postpartum depression. 

Yes, it’s our job now. Or dammit, I’m saying it is from this point on!

I was diagnosed with postpartum depression when my son was six months old. In the nine years since my diagnosis, I am thrilled with the increased awareness surrounding postpartum depression. Nobody talked about it when I was diagnosed and nobody really knew what to say. So, I didn’t tell anyone (except my bestie) and got through the darkness with time and exercise. 

But, Mamas…it isn’t like that any longer. As her friend, don’t just sit there and listen to her tell you how she’s not sleeping “but it’s okay” or that some days are pretty overwhelming “but it’s okay”. Don’t just watch her go through this. Don’t agree that it’s “normal” to feel these things (I mean, it is…but you need advocate for her when she can’t advocate for herself).

Ask questions. Dig deeper. See if there is something going on that she may need help with. Don’t be shy. What I wouldn’t have given for someone to say to me “Linds, I think you have a problem. You’re amazing. But, let’s see if we can’t get some help”. I. Would. Have. Given. Anything. And I did…when my bestie told me to get to the doctor. What a relief it was to have someone say those words to me. I tell you, when you’re in it, you think you’re crazy, selfish and oh-so-alone…but then someone says “Houston, we have a problem”…and that ball of worry in your tummy releases just a little.

So, watch your friend. Sit with her. Take her baby when he’s fussing. Tell her to sit down and relax. To breathe. And start a conversation. 

Here are some questions you can ask to see if your friend may be suffering or heading towards postpartum depression:

“How’s your body feeling?”
“Are you getting any sleep?”
“Are you eating properly?”
“Newborns can be so hard, are you getting any rest?”
“Do you find yourself getting snippy over little things”
“Are you getting out to visit friends?”
“Have you gone out and ______________ (insert activity she typically does?”
“How does it feel to be Mom to ____________ (insert name of new squishy here?”
“No honestly, how are you feeling?”
“Have you ever thought about harming yourself? Your squishy?” (This is a suuuuuper difficult question to ask, but ask it, it could save a life).

These questions can all be asked in conversation. If she’s a good friend, don’t accept off the cuff “It’s so great!”, “I love Motherhood”. You know your friend…is she being truthful? Also, don’t bring this list and fire off all these questions at once. Ask because you want to know the answers. Listen to what she’s saying. Listen to her voice. Watch her face, her hands and her body. You’ll know. You’ll see a change. 

The most important questions you can possibly ask: “Are you ok? How can I help? Do we need to go talk to someone?”.

Don’t be afraid of pointing out your concerns to your friend. If anything, it may come as a relief that you’re acknowledging her feelings, that you’re taking control in a world she feels like she has little control of at the moment and that you genuinely care about her and her well-being. Ask the question, Mama. 

“Do we need to go talk to someone? I’m worried about you, my friend.”

As you sit and snuggle your friend’s new squishy, here’s what you’re looking for in your friend:

  • Mood swings
  • “Excessive” crying (any crying, really…just be aware)
  • Withdrawing from family and friends (hence the reason we ask if she’s getting out)
  • Change in appetite (too little or too much)
  • Serious fatigue and loss of energy
  • Insomnia OR sleeping too much
  • Fear of being a terrible Mama
  • Feelings of overwhelm, angst and worry
  • Serious anger and irritability
  • Thoughts of harming oneself or the baby (this is a scary one, but needs to be addressed head-on…don’t be scared, ask the question)

Now, this isn’t a complete list, but it’s as complete as I can get right now. You know your friend. Talk, talk, talk and watch, watch, watch. With love and compassion. No judgment. And when the time comes to suggest that she may have postpartum depression, offer to take her and her squishy to the doctor. Offer to go with her. She may or may not take you up on your offer, but ask. Then, check back. Don’t just bring up postpartum depression and let it float in the breeze. Follow up and make sure your friend is getting the help she needs.

You’re a good friend. So stay strong and ask the difficult questions. Be a pillar of support and compassion as you navigate postpartum depression with your friend. 

And, if YOU are reading this and any of the above rings true for you, please reach out to your loved ones and let them know you’re struggling. Someone will take your hand and help pull you out of the darkness. If you don’t have anyone, please CLICK HERE for a list of resources and reach out to ME…and I will help you crawl out. 

We’re a united team, Mamas. We stand tall and battle for one another. Be strong. Be powerful. Be there. 

 

Hey! You’re Not TOTALLY F**cking It All Up

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Raising girls is hard. 

I’m not saying that raising boys isn’t. I have one of both and if you read my blog at all, you’ll know I work very hard raising my son, as well. But girls, well, they come with a whole other “layer” of girl. 

Raising girls you worry about other girls. You worry about body image. You worry about feminism (yes, you do). You want to raise a strong, independent, smart, confident women who stand up for themselves, others and blah, blah, blah. Be strong, but don’t be a bitch. Speak up. But make sure to listen, too. Help others, but don’t get walked all over.

Frig. So much pressure. 

Here’s what I realized this week. Yes, I want to raise my gal to be strong, but my issues and what I went through aren’t her issues and what she goes through. Do I need to educate her and teach her kindness and how to treat others? Yes. Do I need to teach her right from wrong and how to be a good friend? Absolutely. And that’s stressful. But, she’s 7 and she’s finding her own way in this new world of hers.

I’ve decided I need to put away all the “when I was her age I felt like this” type of thoughts because she is not me. I am not her. I have to remind myself that her life is very different than mine and the way she processes situations is different than the way I would have…and do. 

The other day she came home from school and said “Phew, what a day!” then went on to tell me how two of her friends said they would play with her at recess but when the bell rang, they ran away from her laughing. Now, seven-year-old me? Well, I would have been decimated by that. I would have sniffled all afternoon and felt like no one liked me. My daughter? She shrugged it off and said “Well Mom, sometimes friends just want to play with other friends and that’s just fine, isn’t it? I found a different friend and it turned out just fine”. 

Okay, baby girl. You got me. You are freaking amazing.

Did I teach her that? Yup. Absolutely. Do we constantly have conversations about how people are different and how amazing that is? All. The. Time. 

What I learned this week is that I need to stop projecting the way I know I would have felt in situations onto her. It doesn’t help. She is not me. I am not her. 

I’m raising a confident, strong girl. And you know what, Moms? You are too. Believe me. You are.

What really brought this all home to me was an experience I had in my car this week. I drove my daughter and two of her friends to Brownies. I seriously love listening to them chitter chatter in the backseat. In between the Taylor Swift songs and Halloween costume excitement, these are the words I heard each girl say to another:

You’re so amazing, I just love that idea.

Wow. You’re so creative. I love how you’re like that.

That…is absolutely adorable. You’re so smart.

You’re so tall. I love how we’re all so different.

OMG! OMG! OMG! That is just adorbs (I heard that a lot).

They went on and on and on about what good friends they are. They chatted about how “so-and-so hurt my feelings, but we worked it out by talking about it”. They squealed (no other adjective could be used, truthfully, squeal is appropriate) about how smart, “fabulous” and hilarious they are. It wasn’t about how they looked. It was about being smart, creative, fun to be around. It was about building each other up even when they talked about having hurt feelings. They empowered one another to be better friends. 

Me? I said nothing. I drove on. Gobsmacked. Smiling. Tearing up.

When I worry about how my daughter is getting through the day and fret about what social interactions she may need to go through on the playground…it’s just wasted energy. After hearing how those girls were speaking to one another, I’m confident they’ll be okay. Sure, sure, they will absolutely have some social issues to work through, but that car ride? Well, it reminded me that I’m not the only Mom out there doing the work to raise incredible women.

These strong, kind, empowering girls are the girls we’re raising?! F**K YEAH WE ARE! 

So Mamas, when you doubt yourself and you start projecting your feelings and childhood onto your kiddos. Stop. Take a breath. Your shit is not their shit. Their experiences are so very different. Keep talking about acceptance. Keep talking about being smart, kind, confident. Keep talking about how to be a good friend. Keep talking about what to do when you’re not a good friend or when your feelings are hurt.

Just keep talking. 

Then listen. Listen to your girls. They will blow your mind and remind you that you are NOT f**cking it all up. You really aren’t.

First Day of School – Why It Gets Harder as They Get Older

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I’m an emotional person. I cry at commercials. I cry when my child cries. I cry during Remembrance Day or Terry Fox ceremonies. For goodness sake, I cry during America’s Got Talent when a little girl is singing and they pan to her parents. Yeah, I own it, I cry a lot. I’m emotional.

But, I thought that as my kids got older, the first day of school would be a safe place and my tears wouldn’t start leaking out my eyes. Boy, was I wrong. 

Today my kiddos started Grade 4 and Grade 2. I love their school. I love their friends. I love their teachers (though we don’t know who they are yet). I know they’re safe and that they’re going to have a great time. But, try as I might this morning, the tears would not stop flowing.

When my daughter started Kindergarten, I had a few tears. Not a lot because she was SO excited and I knew she was ready. So, yeah, although I cry every year, this year was by far the worst. I started crying YESTERDAY.

Here’s why: as your children grow, they become cooler and cooler. I’m not kidding. You think your toddler is amazing and sweet and snuggly and awesome? Wait until they’re 8. They have conversations, thoughts, ideas. They’re hilarious and make life fun. Now, don’t get be wrong. It’s not all rainbows, unicorns and glitter over here. They also push their limits which in turn pushes my limits and sends me to the edge of sanity. But that’s part of growing up, isn’t it? They need to find their boundaries and their place.

But, I’m sad to see them go to school again. And, it’s not all selfish, though yes my desire to be with them because they’re fun is a pretty selfish one. I also know that growing up gets harder with each year. The kids get more gangly and awkward, friends become best friends and then the next day they decide they don’t want to be friends any longer. The social aspect of school is difficult and try as you might, your child is going to come home sad and hurt or mad and angry some days. 

For me, what they feel, I feel. I’m not a helicopter Mom. In fact, I give my kids quite a bit of freedom, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel their hurt when they hurt or cry for them when they make a mistake. So when I cry outside the school during their first few days, it’s not only because I’m going to miss them, it’s also because I know they’re going to experience a lot this year and not all of it will be fun. In fact, as they grow, I know that many days will be filled with emotion…both good and bad.

So, I cry because they’re growing up.

It’s not because they don’t need me. It’s not because I’m going to miss them terribly. It’s simply because…life. 

Life can be hard and although I want to protect those little goobers from the douches of this world…I can’t. They need to learn to stand on their own two feet and they need to come to me when they want to. To talk. For solace. For support. For love. 

So, I wave at my babies and I cry. I cry because I’ll miss them. I cry because they amaze me. Mostly I cry because they’re growing up and as beautiful and wonderful as that can be, it’s also heart-breaking and scary. So yeah…Motherhood…you may learn the ropes as you go, but new lines keep getting thrown at you and the best you can do is the best you can do. 

Stay strong, Mamas. Know that you’re raising amazing people. Know that they’re safe. Know that it’s their life and it’s an honour they get to live it. So, don’t be scared if the tears flow a little more every year, I guess that just a part of us growing up with our kids.

Also…know that wine is fine at 9am after school drop off because, well now, wine makes all the things okay. 

 

Millennials Gone…Right?!

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Hold on to your hats, Party People. I’m about to write something that is going to blow your mind. I had a good experience with…wait for it…Millennials. 

What the what?! I know. I’m as shocked as you.

You see, everything I have read over the past few years is about how lazy Millennials are. How self-absorbed, stupid and selfish they are. And me, being Generation Y (the best generation EV-A…except I just checked and according to Wikipedia I’m a Millennial…nooooooo), well, I’m busy building an empire and working ridiculously long hours to really dive into debating Millennials and all they are. I just read the articles or watch the videos about some of their ridiculous behaviors and think “oh jeez…we’re really in for it”. 

This is probably exactly the way Generation X and the Baby Boomers felt when they hit their late 30’s looking at my generation. It’s just the cycle. We all grow up and then think the younger versions of ourselves are ridiculous and lazy. It’s human nature.

HOWEVER, much to my incredible surprise, it was the Millenials, those hot-bodied, non-baby-stretched, baby-faced 20-somethings that made my day last week.

You see, my car broke down on a very, very busy street last week. It just stopped running. It died. On the spot. A couple Gen-X’ers pushed my little car over to the side of the road where my 6-year old (the lovely and talented Miss P, now officially called a Centennial) and I hung out for an hour and a half waiting for a tow truck to come and rescue us. 

Want to know the most interesting part of my day waiting for that tow truck? It was learning about the kindness and beauty that is our Millennials.

Of all the people that slowed down to check on us, ask if we were okay, offer support, water, a ride and all things in between, 85% of those people were Millennials. That’s right. All tanned, sunglassed and coming back from the beach, those were the people who checked in with us. HOWEVER, of the 85% of those people that talked to us, I’d say 75% of them were actually coming home from work, not the beach. 

Why was this so interesting to me? Because, it was the Millennials who showed compassion to my bored 6-year old. It was the Millennials who offered to go to the liquor store for me to get me a bottle of wine. It was the Millennials who offered us water, snacks and even a song to keep us happy and smiling. Millennials.

I watched car after car with drivers my own age glance at me and quickly look away. Too busy in their lives to even think about offering support or even *gasp* a smile of encouragement. It was rush-hour and the traffic was humming. I know the need to get home after work. I know the desire to get from point A to point B and not have interruptions because you have kids waiting for dinner, lessons to get to and all things Motherhood in between. 

I get it. We’re a busy generation. Life is busy.

But my little Millennials, well, they were where I was 15 years ago. They hold jobs, they go to work on hot, sunny days and they also want to get home. But, much as I would have, they stopped to make sure we were okay. They stopped to show kindness. They weren’t so self-absorbed and selfish that they kept their energy to themselves. They were…beautiful and warm and funny and sweet. And I am so grateful.

It’s easy to put younger generations down. It’s easy to say they’re doing it all wrong. But, who the heck are we to say that? They’re growing up in a world completely different than the one I did. And, the kindness and compassion they showed my daughter and I filled me with such hope and love for the future.

So Millennials…when my generation comes down on you…please know there are people like me rooting for you and praising the way you’re coming up in this world. Fight the good fight, work hard and stay kind. Don’t let life get in the way. Show US that kindness can last through all decades of our lives. 

I believe in the goodness of people. And I am so honoured to experience that kindness every day. From all generations. Thank you, Millennials, for opening my eyes to the goodness and joy that is your generation. I’m a fan. 

Beating Anxiety with Love and Kindness

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Watching your child work his way through an anxiety attack can be an extremely heart-wrenching experience for parents to watch. It is emotional. It is often physical. Most heartbreaking of all? Your child will most likely say things about himself that will make you question absolutely everything you’ve ever done as a parent. He’ll say sorry so many times you’ll never want to hear those words again. He’ll put himself down with words that would make any person crumble, no matter the age. He’ll berate himself, he’ll shake, he’ll cry, he’ll sob, he’ll get sick to his stomach and he’ll make no sense to you at all.

That is what a panic attack looks like. At least, that’s how it looks for my own child. 

My sweet boy has been dealing with these attacks for a few years now and over the years we’ve worked hard to help him cope and come up with strategies.

But, all the strategies in the world won’t help if I don’t manage to get to him in time and the attack goes full-blown. The breathing exercises go out the window. Distraction won’t happen. When he’s in it, he’s in it full force and, for us, the only thing that brings our guy out of it is time, love and kindness. 

But, this post isn’t about anxiety. It isn’t about my son’s panic attacks. It’s about kindness, love and the incredible support of strangers.

My son received tickets to a Shawn Mendes (holy cutie patootie) concert for Christmas. He’s been excited and talking about it since then. The big day finally arrived and we spent the day together. All day it was smiles, hand-holding, walking around Vancouver together and all day he reminded me of his butterflies in his tummy. Noted, son. Noted. I knew he was nervous. 

We had a wonderful Mommy/Son day. Then, it was concert time. We walked to the venue early to beat the crowd (anxiety pro-tip: BEAT THE CROWD as best you can). We walked around the venue. We saw the merchandise lines and he decided he didn’t want to wait in the line and he’d get a shirt online (YAY!), so we went to our seats. He was pumped, excited and all smiles. 

The crowd was filled with young girls who looked like Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez. Did you all know bodysuits and flannel are back? I mean…back, back! Like…every single teenage girl was rockin’ my look from 1992! 

I digress…

Charlie Puth was the opener. Jeez…he sings a lot of songs I know. I’m so hip. But I just used the word “hip”, so no…no, I am not hip now. Shit.

I digress…

During Charlie Puth Owen decided that no, he did want his t-shirt. So, up to the lineup we went. We heard 2 Charlie Puth songs and the rest of the time we were lined up. We got the shirt and headed back to our seats.

The lights go down. My son grabs my hand and tells me he’s scared. The lights flicker. I tell him he’s safe. The audio opening starts. My son says he’s really scared. The light show continues. I tell him to breathe and watch for a spotlight. He squeezes my hand. There’s the spotlight and then Shawn Mendes appears onstage. My son smiles and lets go of my hand.

It’s loud. It’s very loud. Next to my son is a screaming teenage girl. The lungs on the girl were amazing. I don’t fault her. She’s a teenager at a cutie patootie Shawn Mendes concert. Of course she’s screaming. I related to her. She’s me at Bryan Adams. 

Digressing again…

The first song happens. We’re good. Second song happens, I see the change on my son’s little face. It’s happening. I ask “Are you ok?”. He says yes. 30 seconds later “Sweets, are you ok!?”. Yes. Third song starts. It’s louder than ever. It’s a favorite song. The girls are going crazy. I look at my son and I know. He says “Moommmyyyy”…and we bolt. 

Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me. Excuse us. Can we get by? Sorry. No, he’s okay. It’s okay. Thanks.

We’re now on the concourse and we’re in it. We’re panic attack city. We’re on the concourse and my sweet boy is grabbing his ears, sobbing. One hand in his mouth, the other holding his ears. “It’s so loud, Mommy. I can’t. It’s so loud”. All tears. All sobbing. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry”. 

Now, for my guy when he’s here the best I can do is hold on, let him know he’s safe and get him moving. So, I say let’s walk. He wraps his little arm around me and we start walking.

He’s sobbing still. He’s still in it. And he’s getting deeper and the attack is getting bigger and I’m trying so hard to be there for him and do what he needs. Then, kindness wins.

One of the staff from Rogers Arena comes up to us. He says “Hey little man. It’s loud, isn’t it? I get it. It’s even loud out here”. My son nods. And sobs. And bites his t-shirt. The man says “Maybe I can help. Maybe you need a drink. A Pepsi maybe?”. My son looks at me for approval and I nod. He follows my savior to his booth and the vendor says “Do you want it now or would you like to keep it for later”. Later please, my son manages. “It’s on the house,” the vendor says…and just like that…kindness broke my son out of his cycle.

My son, in all his panic and worry, turned to me and said: “that was really nice”. He smiles. Tears still on his face, he smiled. And he’s out of it. Kindness wins.

Kindness. Wins.

We continued to walk the concourse. My son’s arm around me. My arm around him. His little face red and swollen. As we walked, I received nods of acknowledgment from many parents. I felt hands on my shoulder and a quick squeeze from strangers in a show of support. Staff member after staff member stopped to chat with us. It was beautiful. Wonderful. And so heart-warming.

To the staff at Roger’s Arena, I cannot thank you enough. From security staff trying to make my son laugh, to vendors handing out earplugs, to the woman who showed my son the set list as he decided to leave so at least he knew what he was walking away from (making the decision easier for him)…I cannot thank you enough. 

To the man who offered my son a Pepsi and broke him out his cycle…I thank you with all I am. You saved my son that night from hours of illness and worry. The power of your kindness was incredible. I know it was a simple act. But perhaps the simple acts of kindness are the most important ones.

This world can be a glorious and kind place. During such times of hatred, unease and disturbing behaviors…there is kindness out there. 

We left the Shawn Mendes concert after about an hour of walking the concourse. The best part? My son made the decision on his own. He told me what he needed and he felt supported, not only from me, but from all the staff in that building. 

We got back to the hotel room and my son turned to me and said “Mama. That was really fun. I had a really nice time walking with you tonight”. 

15 words I’ve never been so happy to hear. 

Kindness wins. No matter what. Kindness wins.

Again, my many thanks to the numerous people at Rogers Arena for your kindness, compassion, understanding and non-judgement. I am beyond grateful. And, my son…he now has a wonderful memory of how kindness helped him. And, isn’t that an incredible lesson and gift to receive?

If only Shawn Mendes did small venue concerts…like a backyard BBQ. LOL. Now that, my son can handle.