Mother’s Little Helper

After a trouble-free pregnancy,  and a complication-free C-section, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy.   We hired a wonderful baby nurse to show us the ropes,  we had loving  grandparents living nearby,  and I was on maternity leave from a job I loved that would wait for me when I was ready to return.

Everything was perfect – or so it seemed – until a few weeks after the birth I found myself often weepy and feeling at sea.

It became apparent I was suffering from postpartum depression,  something more common than I would have guessed.  In fact 1 in 8 women have some aspect of PPD with symptoms that may vary from feelings of sadness,  to extreme anxiety,  or sleeplessness,  or irritability,  or a sense of being overwhelmed.  Some women report feeling suicidal,  or even harboring thoughts of harming the baby.  In my case I remember asking myself,  Is this all there is?

PPD is not completely understood altho the drastic drop in hormones after childbirth may contribute,  and unfortunately there is no sure fire medical cure.   Joining a support group or seeking counseling can help,  altho I did neither.  Instead I told my doctor the nighttime baby feedings were taking a toll,  and I asked him for something to help me sleep.  He gave me a prescription for an anti-anxiety med and warned me not to abuse it –  but for a time I confess I did.

Then thankfully at some point the cloud lifted,  and I stopped popping those pills.  And looking back now I realize that despite the exhaustion and the stress my darker memories are far outweighed by my happier ones,  and I miss those early, hectic years!

(For more on those years see My Brown-Eyed Girl, Stay-at-Home Mom,  Going Back to Work,  Three-Ring Circus, and Our Noisy Nanny)

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Could it really be that simple?
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I have strived to be healthy, but life had other plans, beginning with severe migraines decades ago. A brilliant neurologist put me on a “cocktail” of medications more than two decades ago to tamp those down. Those account for three of the bottles in the photo and I take those every evening.

While dealing with those migraines, a masseuse mentioned to me that I was a prime candidate for bone loss and asked if I’d ever had my bone density checked. I had not at the time, but asked my internist about it, was checked and already had osteopenia (I am now in full-fledged osteoporosis), so began taking medication for it, which helped, but now I take daily calcium (the big bottle) and an additionally prescribed potassium supplement.

More than 40 years ago, I had extremely mild allergies, but living inside our home during renovation more than two decades ago, tipped me over into a real allergic reaction to dust (as well as some pollens), so I take Singulair on a daily basis as well, and can no longer tolerate being on a construction site. Though I’ve been diagnosed with very mild asthma, I’ll take a puff or two of an inhaler for chorus practice or a concert to insure I have maximum lung capacity, as it decreases as we ages.

For some reason, over the past eight years, I’ve been plagued by styes in my eyelids (I’ve had severe dry eye for more than 30 years), which require a lot of hot compresses, but also antibiotic eye drops and pills. I’ve had two in different eyes since February. This time, my doctor has put me on a low dose of doxycycline for three months to try to prevent any further attacks, but now I must be careful in the sun, as I am very susceptible to sunburn. Always something, right?

The indignities of aging are hitting home with increasing frequency these days. I had ankle surgery in late January, which went smoothly. The joint was fine, but loads of inflammation was discovered in the capsule around the joint so I will see a rheumatologist in October to try and discover why. I took none of the prescribed pain-killers, but the recovery has taken longer than I anticipated. Our bodies do not snap back as quickly as they once did. I must learn patience and acceptance but I still want to dance at my 50th Brandeis reunion in September.

Sometimes the fences that need mending exist right within the family.
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