Wednesday, 1 July 2009

My brain fell out of my uterus (twice)

It's a long story.

The first time my brain fell out was when LQ was born.

The second time was more recently. It all started with some anti-depressants.

I visited the doctor a few months back in the hopes she could save me from myself. My hormones seemed to be attacking me on a regular basis, sometimes leaving me completely incapable of doing anything for two weeks of my life. Dal would often come home to find me curled up on the floor incapacitated from the utter despair I felt over whatever was worrying me that day. This frustrated me, because for the other two weeks of my life, I felt the complete opposite. I could have taken on the world and won.

So I was at the doctor hoping she could help. Like any good doctor, she prescribed anti-depressants immediately. I have had not so good experiences with anti-depressants before and was reluctant to go through it all again. However, I felt it best to at least try the things so I could rule out one thing.

To my complete surprise those little half pills were amazing. For three days I felt like super woman. And then... I got a little feeling that maybe I had a little sprite growing inside me. I ceased taking the happy pill and had the pregnancy confirmed.

I didn't think it possible to lose something that was barely there at all, but it seems my mushy brain became even mushier.

Fast forward 5 weeks to Friday evening. To spare you all the bloody, gory details I will just tell you that I miscarried. An ambulance, emergency room and two hours sleep was involved in the evening. It WAS a completely body shocking experience and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. It seems to be a secret part of motherhood that not too many people talk about. I would venture a guess that most mothers (or mothers to be) have had at least one miscarriage, but it's not until it has happened to you that these people share their stories. And understandably so... it's probably something you wouldn't want to relive over and over like a birth story.

But I am off on a tangent - this post isn't about my miscarriage, it's about my brains falling out all over again.

To say I have been vague the past few months may be an understatement, but following the events over the weekend I can now categorically say that my brains have completely fallen out again.

It has been a struggle to finish sentences.

I hope this excuses me from the lack of posts and comments and hopefully saves me from a possible beating from an un-named source *cough - DeNae - cough* :) You should see my other blog - completely neglected.


Misty said...

I'm so sorry to hear that Helen. Do they know why it happened? Was it the happy pills or something else? I had two miscarriages back to back last summer. I attribute the second one to a hard fall down the stairs that left me very bruised in the tailbone/bum area.

The Garden of Egan said...

Sorry you have had to go through that. It is a very difficult thing. Hopefully you can get on top of things! HUGS

DeNae said...

Oh, my darling Helen, of course I won't punch you in your cute Australian nose now! I only wish I could have held your hand through all of this, since I've been down every road you describe here: Rampant, impossible-to-treat depression; hormonal insanity; miscarriage; and the sure knowledge that a CAT scan of my cranium would show nothing but a "This Space For Lease" sign.

I sincerely hope you're doing better; e-mail me and we can commiserate. And no more sass from me, I promise!

(See? My karma never lets me get away with ANYTHING!)

Gran Denny said...

Hugs and loves for you Helen and for Dal too. Sometimes life just sux, hope you feel better as the days go by.
I cried about having to take antidepressants, tried to do without for far too long, cried so hard when I knew something wasn't right and that I HAD to give them a shot. But sometimes Mother Nature just needs a helping hand to get those hormones, chemicals and other nasties, oops I mean intricacies, back to a balanced state, so we can be who we're really meant to be, the person we love when we look in the mirror, the one who smiles back at us and says "Yeah, I'm okay, actually I'm pretty darn good"
There's no shame in accepting a little medicinal hand up on occasion.
Love you lots, I'll never forget you and Dallas' kindness and how you opened my eyes to what a great marriage looks like.

Anonymous said...

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Melanie said...

dang it, Helen. I'm so so sorry. I wish we lived. . . oh, even on the same continent. I get the feeling we are very much alike. . .