Figured it out!

Sort of! I really didn't want my blog opened to the entire world but I don't know everyone's email address and not really interested in putting that much time into it! LOL But this is really for me to journal and get support from my friends and family!
So, as I was saying yesterday about my PPD after I had Sammie....It was terrible. I've read stories of women who cry for days on end, who just can't love their babies, or bond with them, then there are the severe cases of the women who kill their children. We've all heard of Andrea Yates, crazy, crazy woman, is exactly what I thought, and in a crude way of putting it, she is, or was.
It wasn't until one month after I had Sammie, that I understood, but there were clues leading up to it. I had a wonderful delivery, Alex was the best coach I could have ever asked for, he cried when I cried, he even kissed Sammie's little head right when she was placed on my tummy after she was born. He thanked me for giving him such a beautiful gift. He was my biggest support that day. The day after Sammie was born he and I walked her down to the nursery, so I could get some sleep and I kissed her head and cried(as I knew I would), the nurse asked her name, and I was stumped. I had no idea. Alex looked at me in horror and told the nurse Samantha and held my hand back down to the room, where I cried more. It was then that I knew this was not the typical baby blues that I had gone through twice before.
I had my boughts of crying because she pooped, or slept, just because I could. When she was a week old, my older kids were to come back from their dad's and I dreaded it, I didn't want to be around them, I was struggling with being their mother, for reasons I will never understand. I struggled with this so much that when Sammie was a month old, I called my doctor's office, told them I had a UTI so I could get in that day. I saw the PA and as soon as she closed the door, I said I hate my children, not the baby, I hate my children. I want them to go away, I want me to go away, I need help. The PA stood there and stared and said well, you're depressed(NO SHIT!) and gave me a prescription for Celexa, told me to take half pill that night and for the next three days, and increas it to a whole pill for a week, then up to two pills a week after that. I went home, and wanting my pain to go away, I overdosed on Celexa, I got sick, I felt weak, I stood in the shower for an hour wondering how I could get the razor out of my shaver and slit my wrists, I punched my legs so hard, I was bruised, I needed to feel physical pain to make the emotional pain go away. I laid in bed that night with Sammie in her Moses basket next to me and Alex in bed next to me. I tossed and turned all night. I woke up out of a short sleep, crying. I had vividly seen my older kids dead and I had killed them. It was dark in my room and as I stared at my hands, the were blood soaked, my shirt was blood soaked, or what it looked like to be blood soaked. I couldn't move, I was paralyzed. I grabbed Alex's arm in his sleep, to feel something real. I was afraid to get up to check on Bradley and Anna, afraid that I'd find out that I had actually killed them, I started making a plan on how to leave the house. Write a letter telling Jeff how sorry I am for what I had done, and a letter to Alex saying I'm sorry for leaving him and Sammie. I planned to leave and end my life. Instead, I laid there holding on to Alex for dear life, crying, until the sun came up.
The next evening, I took another shower, and thought of the same things, I hit myself a lot more, got out, went to the living room where Alex was laying on the floor with our baby, and lost my emotions. I've never seen fear in his eyes, I told him of my dream, a little of my suicidal thoughts, and told him I felt homicidal too. He called my mom, and told her I needed to leave for all of our safety. My step dad picked me up, we sat in his truck in silence, as we drove to my parent's house. I slept on the couch that night and had the best sleep I'd had in a long time. I didn't worry about hurting anyone or myself, I was safe.
I called the PA I had seen the next morning and she told me I should have called Heritage Oaks and been admitted on a 5150 hold. The experience that I had through someone special to me with Heritage Oaks, I chose not to call them and said I'll be ok and she believed me and said goodbye. Knowing now what I didn't know then, is she should have called the police and had me 5150 so I could have been assessed and helped.
I got myself into a psychiatrist, was put on Zoloft and Xanax, and me opening up to a few friends and family, I felt better, but still not ok. There were still times I felt if I just died, my kids would have a better chance at having a normal life, so would my husband. I know that I was wrong.
Since August 2006, I have struggled with severe depression and anxiety, to which I have not found a cure nor has it gone away. But with the support of those around me, I know that I'm not alone and I always have someone to turn to.
At the time I only opened up to a few people, Alex, my mom, my step dad, Nana, Elfi and Diane(poor thing saw me break down and had no idea what to do with me). I can't thank them enough to listening to me and even though I was not of my right mind, they still validated my feelings and loved me regardless. Iwill forever be thankful for them. So, as I sit here crying now(who'd have thunk), I'm gonna take a breather, go to a meeting, eat(of course) and maybe eat some more.