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Let It Go

3/4/2014

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If you haven’t seen Frozen, you are a terrible person and need to see it ASAP. For those of you too lazy to go see it, it’s about two sisters who learn the power of loving your family and yourself. My mom is convinced that I am Elsa and my sister is Anna, which works for me since I get an awesome musical number and a killer dress. Let It Go is the Oscar winning song from the movie that Elsa sings. Here are the lyrics.
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“Let It Go”

The snow glows white on
the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation,
And it looks like I’m the Queen.
The wind is howling like this
swirling storm inside
Couldn’t keep it in, heaven knows I tried

 Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know
Well, now they know

 Let it go, let it go
Can’t hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door

I don’t care
What they’re going to say
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway

It’s funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can’t get to me at all

It’s time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through

No right, no wrong, no rules for me
I’m free

Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You’ll never see me cry

 Here I stand
And here I’ll stay
Let the storm rage on

My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I’m never going back,
The past is in the past

Let it go, let it go
And I’ll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone

 Here I stand
In the light of day
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway 
This is my new theme song. I adore this song because it can be applied to so many different situations. Right now, it’s my song for a very big chapter of my life I’m going through right now.

Depression is a major epidemic in America today. It can be even more predominant in pregnant women and those who have recently had a baby. Currently, about 14% of women who are pregnant or recently gave birth suffer from postpartum depression. A good majority of that percentage have a history of 
depression in their family or by themselves. I fall into that percentage. Depression runs in the women of my family, including myself. I recently posted an entry about part of that experience (Six Years Ago…). After giving birth to Chase, I only suffered from Baby Blues. This time, I’m suffering from full-blow post partum depression.


This isn’t something that many people in general like to talk about or even admit that they have, especially pregnant women. It’s hard to admit to people all the negative thoughts and emotions that you have. It’s almost taboo, and I’m sure a lot of people feel that way, not just women. I feel that makes it worse. And statistically, it does. You are more likely to fall harder into depression if you don’t talk about it, if you don’t seek help, and you don’t admit to yourself that you need help. When I was younger and diagnosed, it scared me. I felt even worse about having to take pills to “be normal.” I was young, and 
didn’t fully understand what was happening to me, and honestly, I don’t think it was explained well to me until it was too late. This time around, I’m more open minded.

I don’t consider myself crazy anymore. I don’t consider myself a “faulty” person because I have to take anti-depressants to help me. If you have diabetes, you take medication. If you have cancer, you go through chemo. If you have a cold, you take Dayquil. Why is depression any different? Depression doesn’t mean you are a broken person. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain. Simple as that. Medicine can help that imbalance. It’s not an over night thing by any means. It can take weeks, even months, before you not only find an anti-depressant that works for you, but to then start correcting the imbalance. But which is worse? Knowing that it will get better with help (and counseling if you feel the need) or waiting until it gets so bad that you hurt yourself or others? Personally, I would rather open my mouth and cry for help than go through what I went through six years ago. I’m able to understand my feelings and what they mean because I had such a horrible experience before.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s still hard for me to get out of bed, take care of myself, to not think horrible thoughts about myself, and generally live day to day. But because I understand that not only does depression run in my family and that post partum depression is a very real thing regardless of my 
history, I understand that these thoughts are because of a chemical imbalance. I don’t try to play down what I’m feeling just because I understand what’s happening, and just because I understand what’s happening doesn’t mean what I’m feeling isn’t real. I’m just not afraid to tell my husband and mom that it’s time for medical help. Talking things out isn’t working, and anti-depressants may be what I need to start feeling better, to start feeling more like myself.

Which brings us to the song, Let It Go. In the movie, Elsa is hiding the fact that she has special powers, but at her coronation, it reveals itself. She runs away to the mountains and is singing about how she doesn’t have to hide herself anymore. She let’s it all go. She’s just herself now. That’s what I’m doing. I’m not going to hide the fact that I’m depressed. It’s not something to be ashamed about. I would have to be ashamed if I kept it to myself and ended up trying to hurt myself again, or worse, one of my kids (because that could potentially happen). It’s scary to think about what could happen if I tried to hide everything. Instead, I’m choosing to Let It Go, and just be myself. True, right now I’m not the best version of myself, but I’m going to get help to get back to “me.”

I’m not going to be afraid of my depression, and if anyone else reading this thinks that they could be suffering from any kind of depression, you shouldn’t be afraid either. Don’t be afraid to speak up and ask for help. Don’t be afraid of what you’re feeling. Realize that it’s not necessarily “you,” but a “sick” you. Talk to your family, talk to your doctor, you can even talk to me. No one that truly cares about you will look down on you or judge you. If they do, they don’t fully understand depression. Do the research, check out your options, and Let It Go.
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Introducing Skylar Nicole

3/1/2014

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On February 17th at around 7pm, I started having contractions. At first, I thought they were just Braxton Hicks, but they slowly intensified. I tried to sleep that night, I truly did, but I was just too darn excited knowing that this
could be it. At around 4am February 18th, things really kicked into gear. I tried to be as quiet as I could as I kept timing my contractions. At 5:30 am, I was having contractions every 6 and a half minutes. The pain was ridiculous, but I’m also a whimp, so I’m sure a normal woman would have been fine. I called my doctor, hoping he would tell me to go to the hospital so I could get my drugs. No such luck. He told me to call back when my contractions were 5 minutes apart. Um… beg pardon? You mean I have to endure MORE of this pain before I can get my
epidural? Truth be told, I looked at Kyle and told him, “If I miss my window of
opportunity for the epidural because of this, that doctor will die a slow and
painful death. So will your hand.”

 About two and a half hours later, I finally hit the 5 minute mark. We started
packing up Chase while calling the doctor to tell him I hit the 5 minute mark,
I’m getting my drugs. Finally receiving the okay to head to the hospital, we
grabbed Chase and took him to his great grandparents and then off to the
hospital. Before I continue, let me put something into perspective. From my
house to Chase’s great grandparents is about a mile and a half. There are 3
lights and about 30 potholes, speed-bumps, and dips. From their house to the
hospital is about 2.5 miles. If any of you have driven on Hampden Ave. in
Colorado during rush hour, you know it can be a nightmare. Especially around the
Santa Fe intersection. That’s exactly where we got stuck. Longest 20 minutes of
my life. I had the seat leaned back, both hands on the oh-shit grip above my
head, and I probably made some of the most interesting noises while telling
(well, more yelling than telling) Kyle to find a way around.

9am and we arrive in Labor and Delivery. I get changed, slither my way into
bed, and wait. And wait. And wait. They ask a million questions, check my
cervix, start and IV, and almost make it out of the room. I quickly stop
them.

 “I already know for a fact that I’m going to want an epidural. And I know I’m
going to want it ASAP.” The nurse smiles and assures me that she will let them
know. Meanwhile, I’m squeezing the crap out of Kyle’s hand, staring him in the
eye, trying to breath, and trying not to cream bloody murder through another
intense contraction. An hour later, the numb, warm-fuzzy feeling spreads through
my legs as the epidural kicks in. Oh sweet, sweet drugs, you are my
friend. (And, yes. I’m well aware I sound like a drug addict. When it comes
to child-birth and intense pain, I will turn straight druggie in a heartbeat.
I’m not ashamed to say I’m a whimp and need drugs.)

About 1:30pm, my mom shows up. As happy and as thrilled as I am to see her,
I’m in tears. The epidural and mass amounts of hormones coursing through me has
made me start shaking uncontrollably and cry like I’m dying. She immediately
plants herself in the rocking chair next to my bed, kicking Kyle out of the way,
and grabs my hand. She didn’t let go almost the entire time she was there. At
this point, I’m about 7.5 cm dilated, 100% effaced, and Sky has already dropped
completely. Within the next hour, I’m at 9cm. And that’s where I stall.

With Chase, I stalled at 7cm. I stalled for two hours. We almost had to
have a C-section, but Chase all of a sudden got a swift kick from
somewhere and started moving again. The same thing was happening again. I was
tripping at the finish line. I was literally 1cm away from victory, and I
freakin’ stall! I push the “gimmie more” button on my epidural line… 3 times
before Skylar started moving again. And when she did, she didn’t waste
time, just like her brother.

As I approached 10cm, I could feel the change. Intense pressure, pretty
spectacular contractions even with the epidural, and just the gut feeling
that I was close. This was it. I was finally going to meet my daughter.
The nurse checked me, and then promptly called for the doctor, knowing that
it was going to take him a bit to arrive. Until then, I was supposed to show
them how good I could push. I could push awesome apparently. After only two
three counts of pushing, they told me to stop. Don’t push. Just hang on. I
look at Kyle on my left and my mom on my right. Yeah right.
The nurse pokes her head into the hallway. “Tell the doctor he needs
to run. Fast.”

30 seconds later, the doctor walks in, puts on one glove, and without me
pushing, Skylar’s head comes out. She walked out all on her own. She wasn’t
waiting for no stinkin’ doctor to put on gloves. Or at least both of them.
One was going to be plenty. But she was here. They placed her on my chest, and I
am proud to announce, I was able to stay awake. With Chase, I had been up for
over 36 hours and fell asleep shortly after I gave birth. With Sky, I was
pretty rested and alert, so I got to enjoy those first few moments with her
clearly. And oh, how amazing they were.

Skylar was born at 4:04pm on February 18th. She weighed 8 pounds 1.9 ounces.
She was 20 inches long. And she is just amazing, precious, and gorgeous. I’m so
excited to be starting this new chapter of my life as a mom. I can hardly
wait to see all the wonderful things she does throughout her
life. And I’m so honored I get to share them with her.

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    Maniac Mom

    My name is Kristen and I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder. This is my hysterical journey as a mom of two dealing with life twists and turns while trying to not let my "crazy" get too out of hand. I strive to be a happily depressed mom.
    Grab a cup of coffee or a shot of vodka and bask in the mania!

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