Someone tell me how I’m already halfway through my 30’s, please.

I just got out a calculator to confirm my age. 30? No problem. 35? Oh, we got problems now! Do you know that I went to two doctors complaining about medical issues and acne (which has never been a thing for me in the past) and they both welcomed me to old age? Rude. I’m out here buying new face washes and serums with the max percentage of acid allowed to melt my face back into submission. I started off this decade with a surprise birthday party surrounded by friends and family and now I wake up every morning to surprise hormonal acne and neck pain.

30’s are wild, ya’ll.

I will say this though: If you are struggling with one of your birthdays in the 30 decade, go ahead and read some magazine articles on what life in your 30’s looks like. We’re out here thriving. Or at least, peaking in a lot of areas of life.

Take that for what it’s worth to you.

The Low FODMAP Diet: Advice Welcome

Life is funny, isn’t it? You expect it to go one way and all of a sudden you realize you’re living a very different life than you expected. It’s been a week, ya’ll.

In my early 20s, I was diagnosed with IBS after a particularly bad day found me on the floor of my aunt and uncle’s downstairs guest room where I lived during a work internship. After dropping to the ground in pain and realizing I couldn’t straighten myself out, I crawled to my nightstand and called my aunt upstairs to help me. A quick trip to urgent care later, I had my diagnosis and a prescription for an antispasmodic to relieve intestinal spasms. Awesome.

I’ve had ups and downs since that day but it’s been generally relegated to an annoyance, flaring up when I’m stressed or eat too much fiber or happen across a dish loaded with onion. Not great but manageable. Since then, I’ve completed several rounds of Whole30 which taught me that 1) there was more than onion on that list of foods to avoid and 2) the advice to “eat more fruits and vegetables” had some caveats when it came to my body. People tell you that increasing your fiber causes upset for everyone until the body adjusts but what happens if the body doesn’t adjust?

Fast forward to 2020 when a pandemic started and the world went to shit. Unfortunately, my body went with it. Since March of 2020, I have experienced more frequent episodes of pain. I had a very short stint (one visit) with a natural doctor who maybe practices Chinese medicine (I don’t know) and paid hundreds of dollars in supplements that you can’t get anywhere else before realizing I’d not quite exhausted all other options. I called my primary care physician (PCP) and talked to her about the supplements and the pain and the things I’ve tried before. She suggested that I look into a low FODMAP diet, told me that she didn’t think it wouldn’t hurt to take the supplements, and suggested that when I was ready to look into the food approach, she could refer me to a nutritionist.

Now, listen… I’m an incredibly stubborn person. I fully own that. And I realize now that I should’ve jumped on this low FODMAP train at her first mention of it but the holidays are coming up. Halloween just passed. I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner. Christmas dinner! I. love. food. I love it. I thought I would just maintain a little longer and then go all in after the holidays. The thing with chronic illness, you see, is that we’re used to being uncomfortable. Used to being at some level of pain or discomfort pretty much all of the time. It’s also one of the reasons we feel ridiculous succumbing to the pain. People see us day in and day out and we look normal. I pride myself on being able to function well with over a decade of stomach issues and chronic fatigue. I feel like a burden when concessions need to be made for me. I often convince myself that eating things I know will upset me is fine because I know what symptoms it will cause and that I can handle them.

Ha ha ha… bitch, you thought.

It came to a head this week. Monday morning, I had to go into work late after waking up with intense pain that doubled me over. An antispasmodic and some Ibuprofen later, I went into work. Uncomfortable but present. Tuesday I was scheduled for a flight to our facility in Massachusetts. I debated cancelling but decided to wait until the morning to see how I felt. I rallied and honestly, I had a blast in MA. Wednesday, I couldn’t get out of the fetal position until the evening. I spent the day with antispasmodics, a ton of water, very little food, a heating pad, my roommate (thankfully!), and several Marvel movies in release date order (which my sister tells me is the only way to watch them so I can experience it the way everyone else did). I started the low FODMAP diet. I hadn’t shopped for it and we missed our weekend shop this past weekend so pickings were slim but I ordered a food journal and some books about the diet and I downloaded an app. My husband made a quick stop at the grocery store for some basics on his way home from work and I went to bed feeling like I was starting to gain back some control.

I woke up Thursday morning with the intention of going into work until I doubled over onto the dinning room rug while my kids ate their breakfast. There’s something quite humbling about having your children stare down at you on the floor asking if you’re okay while you roly-poly your way into a defensive position and grit through pain and nausea (queue the mom guilt because why not). I called my PCP and they sent me for a rush X-ray where I assumed I’d learn what everyone already knows: I’m full of shit (*jokes*). Turns out, that wasn’t the case and honestly, I cried. Results: normal. But I didn’t feel normal. It hurt to straighten up, hurt to walk, hurt to sit down. I wanted an easy answer but, as most of my friends with GI issues will tell you, that’s not typically how this journey goes. So I spent yet another day with antispasmodics, a ton of water, a heating pad, and several Marvel movies. I also read a ton about low FODMAP foods and tried to educate myself on this new elimination diet.

I’m a rule follower by nature so Whole30 is easy; the rules are very defined. The low FODMAP diet is different. Food is categorized into low, medium, and high FODMAPs. Some low FODMAP items can become high based on how much you consume. Some food items that you think of as “good” like broccoli, cauliflower, and apples can be “bad” and some food items that you steer of while eating clean like jam and butter are totally acceptable. I need to relearn some things.

Today is Friday. My food journal and my books have arrived (Side note: Did you know there’s a medical chart on the consistency of shit? It’s called the Bristol Stool Chart and it is equally repulsive and fascinating. You’re welcome.) and I’ve been eating only low FODMAP foods for 2 days. I’m happy to say that I’m upright this morning which feels like a huge win. I also reached out to a friend of mine who fully revamped her diet to tackle health issues for encouragement. She gave me some good advice and helped me realize that I’ve been focusing on how my issues impact other people rather than focusing on how they’re impacting me. I’m wondering if any of you have experience with this. What resources helped you out? What recipes do you love? What words of advice do you have for something just starting out?

I’m all ears!

Febrile Seizures and Healthy Anxiety

It’s Friday morning and the air is cool. The sun is out and the clouds are sparse. The kids are off to school and daycare for the first time in 5 weeks and my music is turned up. Thank you Walker Hayes Pandora station. I have a quarter cup of coffee left in my to-go mug; it’s still hot despite being poured over an hour ago. I don’t feel like I’m scraping myself off the floor today. It’s a good morning.

I mentioned it in my last post but I started anxiety meds at the end of May. It takes a while for the meds to get in your system but I can say without a doubt that medication combined with therapy has made a world of difference for me. I still struggle with anxiety but I’m getting better at recognizing healthy anxious thoughts vs. obsessive thoughts. I’m getting better at communicating those obsessive thoughts with my husband and he’s getting better at giving me grace when I can’t let go of something, snap at him, or need to step away.

Our son had a febrile seizure on Wednesday, his second since June. He’s been at daycare both times and both times I missed the call. I saw Fred’s text explaining what happened after I got out of a meeting and immediately left work. I called him on the way to daycare. I panicked. He panicked. I snapped. I didn’t get to daycare before the ambulance left the parking lot so I followed closely behind knowing that that they wouldn’t do anything but give him some acetaminophen and ibuprofen and a COVID test. I got turned around in the parking structure. Fred somehow made it to the ER before I did.

Febrile seizures are interesting because as long as they’re not occurring frequently during a single “illness” or longer than the completely frustrating range of somewhere between 5-15 minutes, medical professionals don’t really bat an eye. The first time it happened, the ER doctor told me to Google the answers to my questions about how often to expect seizures / whether or not they occur with every fever / if they’re caused by temperature alone or the rate at which the temperature elevates / the statistics of reoccurring vs. one time febrile seizures. Google. To a mom whose son had just had his first ever seizure that lasted 7 minutes followed by another one for 2 minutes.

Another interesting thing about febrile seizures is that the fever is often the first symptom of a virus. So you bring your kid to school and you temp them at the door and you send them on their way. They don’t have a stuffy / runny nose. They don’t have a cough at night. No sore throat. Not even a sneeze. Then they wake up from a nap with a temperature of 102 and they seize.

Little man didn’t need the ambulance ride but I’m shit in emergency situations and I couldn’t think straight. The director at daycare told me the EMTs had arrived and I couldn’t slow down my thoughts enough to ask the questions:

  • Does he have a temperature?
  • How long did the seizure last?
  • Is he lucid?

His COVID test was negative and I tested negative on Tuesday after a coworker was diagnosed. I waited the appropriate number of days before testing myself, we mask in meetings at work, and my other team members tested negative but I’m still obsessing. I could take another test but the first did nothing to curb my anxiety so I haven’t, telling myself that I can rely on the test results and that my anxious thoughts aren’t serving me.

Healthy: Taking the necessary precautions to prevent illness and testing for COVID after a possible exposure

Obsessive: Thinking that you have COVID and spread it to your child despite knowing you and your son tested negative

I’ve always been an anxious person. I know that about myself. I think back across relationships and I see the patterns. The way I obsessed. The way I let healthy anxiety roll into obsessive anxiety. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so rigid. I’m sorry that I held so tightly to control. I’m sorry if my anxiety made you doubt yourself. Recognizing healthy anxiety and letting the rest go is something I’ll probably always work on.

So I sent my son to daycare today. I’m slow-sipping coffee. I’m spending a moment in catharsis before I hit post and carry on with my day. And I’m trusting that God has this. That whatever caused Freddy’s seizure just is. If I could have prevented it, I would have; I can’t control what is.

Little Man

Febrile Seizure Fact Sheet

A is for Anxiety

Do you ever hold your breath doing a completely innocuous thing? Do you find your shoulders scrunched up by your ears while relaxing? Do you feel like you have a pound of bricks sitting on your chest regardless of the task at hand? Do you find yourself periodically taking really deep breaths because you don’t have any air in your lungs? Is your heart racing? Do you feel like you’re watching a reel that keeps getting faster and faster?

Perhaps you’re not cleaning the house on overdrive so you think you’re okay. You’re not obsessing about one thing. There are so many things to remember, right? That’s all this is. You’re trying to manage everyone’s schedule during a hectic time. Everyone feels like this really. It’s a symptom of our times.

But you feel out of control.

And it’s not stopping.

If you’re honest… it’s getting worse.

You’ve started avoiding things. You can get away with it for a while because people know you’re stressed. They want to give you a break and it’s not like you’re avoiding all of your responsibilities. You’re still functioning. You’ll bounce back in a second and you’re so good at managing those bricks weighing down your chest that most people don’t even know you’re struggling. You’ll be fine.

You just need a few more minutes to yourself each day. To reset. To relax. You’re so tired in the mornings. You can’t get that relaxation time in before the sun comes up so you’ll take it after the sun goes down. It used to take a half hour to wind down. Now it takes hours. It’s after midnight and you’re tired. You’re so tired. But you can’t sleep. You hold out for that deep breath to fill your lungs. It doesn’t come. Eventually you wake up on the couch and drag yourself to bed. You’ll have dark circles under your eyes come morning.


Last month I made a call to my PCP (primary care physician) and told her I wanted to start on anxiety meds. I’ve always been type A but this last year has thrown me for a loop that I can’t seem to get out of on my own. I’ve tried. I’ve mediated. I’ve tried yoga. I’ve eaten better and exercised and eliminated as much from my plate as I could. I’ve increased water. Taken my vitamins. But on my birthday a few weeks ago I canceled a casual evening with friends last minute because I couldn’t handle it. I love birthdays. I celebrate as much as I can. But this year I tried to isolate (and I would’ve outside of my immediate family if not for my kick-ass coworker and brother-in-law who refused to let me take my lunch alone).

Last weekend I had to RSVP to two events and the decisions had me in tears. When Fred suggested we bring guacamole to one of them, I immediately started panicking about how hard it would be to find avocados. First world problems, am I right?

They tell me it takes 4 weeks to find out whether or not a medication helps or not and I’m lucky enough to have had a very good friend point out to me the following warning:

They said, “You know… the thing about medication that I didn’t realize is that it doesn’t fix you. You won’t suddenly go back to doing all of the things you pulled away from when the anxiety got too bad. You have to push yourself. You have to start doing the things that cause anxiety to see that that the anxiety isn’t there anymore.”

Another friend told me:

“Change is hard. We get used to sitting in this space even when it’s bad for us. We get comfortable. Our coping mechanisms are comfortable. This won’t be easy.”



If you’ve lived through this past year, I’m going to go ahead and assume you’ve experienced burnout at some level. And I mean that globally, which is insane. You’re a human? You’re old enough to understand that everything changed for us a little over a year ago? Yeah, I’m talking to you. Even as vaccines begin to be released fully to the general public and fears (hopefully) begin to subside, we’re here dealing with the effects of a year+ long pandemic, of shuffled schedules, sicknesses, deaths without closure, real fear and fear mongering, unemployment, home schooling, etc. It’s not just one thing. It’s everything.

Fun fact: Burnout can lead to anxiety disorders. Did you know that? Feel anxious lately? *raises hand with fervor* I’m a barely functioning adult some days. Thank the Lord I have a partner who carries me. But news flash: he’s going through the same stuff I am (because that’s what happens in a global pandemic where we all carry the weight of prolonged stress) so I can tell you with 100% certainty that his back is sore from carrying this team. Thanks, love!

At the start of the calendar year I started Whole30 for the 3rd time in my adult life. I went from that right into a 6 week health challenge on Les Mills On Demand (absolutely love that subscription, by the way – more on that later!). I’ve been trying to drink more water and take my vitamins regularly and kick my self-induced insomnia all in attempt to get rid of that 10 lb. weight sitting on my chest day in and day out. I’ve gotten a little lift but it’s still there. Have I tried meditation? Yes. Helps a little. Therapy? The appointment is booked.

The point is, if you look at my highlight reel and see me completing Whole30 and a 6 week workout challenge, dropping 10 lbs. and getting stronger in the past few months, you might be tempted to think I have some sort of grasp on life right now. I assure you, I do not. I do, however, have some newfound appreciation for some things due to living through a pandemic:

  • Delegating things I’m not good at doing. I hold onto things I shouldn’t because I’m afraid of doing them imperfectly but I’m learning to recognize that God gifts us all with different talents. My inability to let go is keeping someone else from being able to use their talents. Get rid of whatever it is that you don’t think you’ve mastered enough. Need to figure out your retirement investments? Outsource it. Someone else already has that gift honed. You don’t have the capacity for that right now.
  • Limiting my “yes.” I’m an introvert. I absolutely love my people and I absolutely need downtime to recover from seeing them. It’s worse now than it was pre-COVID19. If I say yes for one thing today, I’m saying no to every other social event that day – likely the whole weekend.
  • Burying my head in the sand. This feels like it would’ve been a good post for April Fools’ Day but I’m serious. I said I had a newfound appreciation for things… I didn’t say they were healthy things! I’m a total avoider. I’m not proud of that but it’s the truth. If I don’t have the energy to expend on it, I will put it off. Do I realize it makes it worse in the long run? Yes. Yes, I do. Does that stop me from doing it? No. No, it does not.
  • Washing my hands for 20 seconds. This is random and I’m not saying I didn’t wash my hands before but I’ve gotta be honest… 20 seconds is a long time. My hygiene skills were seriously lacking pre-COVID19. I’ve upped my game, ya’ll. My skin might be cracked and bleeding year round from here on out, but these hands are clean.

COVID Update: A Journal Entry

Michigan started reopening businesses and lifting restrictions but the stay at home order was extended. Some of our friends in the salon industry still haven’t received guidance on how or when they’ll be able to reopen doors. Among a list of other industries and individuals, restaurants as hurting as well.

Our daycare, which has remained open for essential workers, is finally accepting children for their summer program. That means the kids go back to daycare June 1st. I have a lot of emotions regarding that decision. The only thing keeping me sane is the reassurance that they have been open and have had no reported cases of COVID-19. I’ve been pressured to provide my return date so I’m thankful for the summer program though my work has continued from home.

I’ve been appalled by people’s behavior. After using the Facebook Snooze for 30 Days feature, my feed is beginning to refill with hatred, venom, and disrespect once more. This time I’m unfriending. Our interactions in the past do not tie us together for life.

Perhaps you’re scared or hurting and you’re lashing out. Maybe this is a low point for you. I understand. I know without a doubt that I have been in that position before and people have unfriended me whether over social media or in real life because of it. I don’t believe that you cannot change or that you’re a terrible person. But we’re not good enough friends to have a heart to heart over it and I need to make the best decision for me.

Maybe you’re not scared or hurting but you’re lashing out in anger. Maybe you think your posts are funny. I get that too. I’ve perpetuated hate toward people I’ve never met out of ignorance or bigotry or a societal influence I didn’t even know was there. I’ve been working on it for a while now but there are days that I come across an article or a post or a different perspective that lays bare my sins. It’s uncomfortable. And condemning.

But let me caution you with this: If you’re a Christian, watch what you’re putting out on social media. Be ready to receive correction and do so with grace. You can have different opinions but let’s do it without hate or shame or mockery of a person or group of people. It’s not a good look and certainly not one you’d be proud to bring to the cross.


We’re in the middle of a global pandemic, the first of our lifetimes. Restaurants, spas and salons, schools, flight paths, cities, states/provinces, and even countries are closed. Death tolls are rising; we’re grieving in isolation.

We’re also reaching out. Downloading videoconferencing apps and increasing work-from-home opportunities. Setting up remote desk space at home, remote happy hour, remote play dates. We’re getting outdoors to get out of our homes.

Countries are shipping supplies where they have them. Factories are switching over machinery, similar to wartime but this time we’re not fighting each other. We’re fighting a common enemy.

When schools closed in our state, my husband and I made the decision to keep both of our kids home. We’re lucky to have that option but it’s hard. It’s hard to keep them entertained and stay on top of meetings and work demands and deadlines. It’s hard but it’s possible.

Many companies around here have gone to remote work wherever possible but that isn’t the case across the board. I’m still expected to be at work though I work in IT. A sore throat will keep me home tomorrow. My guess is that it’s caused by lack of sleep but the cost of uncertainty is high. Too high.

Sleep is intermittent; there’s too much on my mind. Worry over the people I love, stress over losing my routines, sadness for those impacted both in health and finance. I’m an Enneagram 1 and the ethical and moral decision to social distance directly conflicts with my desired work ethic.

I’m thankful for my friends and neighbors who have ramped up dialogue though. Grateful for my small group who gathers over video conference to pray. Thankful for doctors, nurses, service providers. God’s promise of life. There is a lot to be thankful for even now.

I’m going to start writing again. Not all posts about viruses but this virus has reminded me of why I started: To journal about my life. I confused my WHY at some point along the way but I remember it now. I write to write. That is all.

Postpartum Care: A post where you will learn entirely too much about me because I think sharing our experiences matters

Thesis: Postpartum care in the US is an absolute joke.

Supporting arguments: Postpartum in the US = the 6 week checkup.

To be fair, I did have two at-home nurse visits after my cesarean. They weren’t really for me, they were mainly for my son, but I did answer some stock questions for postpartum depressing screening; I passed. The nurse also checked my incision and felt to make sure my uterus was still contracting; it was.

6 weeks and then an entire year before I need to go back for my annual checkup because the 6 week postpartum checkup (where they check to make sure the body is healing from a vaginal or cesarean delivery, from incisions or tears or whatever else takes place in the horror that is childbirth) also counts as my annual for the year.

Lucky me.

5 years ago and some months, my daughter was born. Also by cesarean. She weighed 10.1 pounds and I pushed for 3 hours before they decided cesarean was my best option. Fast forward 6 weeks or so to my 6 week appointment. My stitches were healing nicely and everything was looking great.

Given the go ahead, I joined my local Fit4Mom group immediately. I loved being able to workout with my daughter in those early months (Seriously, check this group out. So good for normalizing motherhood and experiencing grace as a new mom!). I noticed early on that I couldn’t side shuffle without pain but figured it was part of the normal healing process. I modified my workouts and filed that pain in a forgotten category of things to follow up on – behind getting enough sleep and normal maintenance, like a haircut. When I hit the 3 month mark with no further follow up, I went back to work.

My desk at work was moved from the main floor to the second floor during my leave and I noticed that I had to take each step with my right foot or pick up my left pant at the knee to get my left leg up the stair. My hip ached. I finally reached out to my OB and was surprised to receive a referral to a pelvic floor physical therapist (PT).

I didn’t know pelvic floor specialists existed.

Apparently if you try to actively push a 10.1 lb baby (or whatever size baby – because my experience is not at all unique to mothers of large babies) for 3 hours (or whatever amount of time including none – because same), you may experience what is known as pelvic floor trauma. Yes, trauma. My PT’s choice of words. Not mine.

My son, born 5 years later, was scheduled as a cesarean. This filled me with such immense peace and glee that I waltzed into the operating room. No pushing! This post isn’t meant to be his birth story so I won’t go much further into the details except to say that this time my child weighed 11.9 lbs.

I had my 6 week follow-up appointment 6 weeks and 2 days after he was born. My stitches were healing nicely and everything was looking good.

Fast forward several months. I came across a beautiful mother of triplets on Instagram, @triplets_of_copenhagen, who shared her postpartum journey with pictures. She talked about her struggle with diastasis recti and I thought to myself, “Hey, I’m having a really hard time “bouncing back” (whatever the hell that means…VOMIT). I had a really big baby (the combined weight of some twins). I have general unease around my core muscles and feel like I’m falling apart. And thanks to her vulnerability in sharing her story, I can see that we have visual similarities. Maybe I have diastasis recti too.

So I messaged my OB provider and they referred me to… (Can you guess?)

A pelvic floor PT!

And that’s where I learned that I have a 3-finger width spread of my stomach wall (diastasis). I also learned that excruciating back pain I’ve starting seeing my chiropractor about recently is likely caused by a combination of the diastasis and the fact that I carry my little (big) guy on my left at all times.

My point is, 6 weeks isn’t enough time to see how a mother’s body is healing. In both of my pregnancies, I was fine at 6 weeks (or rather I wasn’t but hadn’t yet received the go-ahead to start doing any physical activity that would help identify or exacerbate an issue – that go-ahead is a big part of the 6 week appointment after all).

By 3 months with my first, I couldn’t walk up stairs. By 6 months with my second, I can’t lay down flat on a hard surface without searing back pain and I’m currently working through 8 PT sessions and daily homework to get back on track from injuries that would have worsened with traditional abdominal exercises. Yet both times I passed my 6 week checkup with flying colors.

Thankfully my OB, who I love, knew to refer me a pelvic floor PT. When I scoffed 5 or so years ago at his suggestion, he assured me it’s where I needed to be and he was right. This isn’t a critique of him or the care I received at his guidance. It’s a critique on standard postpartum care in the US. It’s a joke and we deserve better.

Please let me know your thoughts and recovery experience by commenting below!

PPD and Me

I said there’d be more to come on my returning BFF postpartum depression/anxiety (PPD) and then I went dark on writing. It’s pretty standard behavior for me. About the time I hit “Publish” on a vulnerable post, I start to sweat and sometimes the room spins and I feel ill. This feeling typically continues for a few days. I also go through this routine any time I publicly advocate for anything too so I hope you understand it takes me a while to build up the moxie to do it again!

To be honest, I feel like a bit of an impostor claiming it because on the scale of PPD, it could be a lot worse. I felt (feel?) off. Disconnected. Disengaged. Foggy. “Meh” and a bit emotionless. I started sleeping less. If I suffered through Postpartum Anxiety with Emma, this felt (feels?) like Postpartum Depression. So I read over the pamphlet I got from the hospital and started taking some vitamins. I’m eating better. I called my therapist.

I love being able to say that, by the way: “I called my therapist.” I have a group of girlfriends who all go to a therapist and talking about mental health is as normal as talking about our weekend plans or eating lunch. “What do you mean you didn’t call your therapist?” It’s so good.

The thing about PPD is there’s a dumb little points test called the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale (EPDS) you can take to score yourself but it’s not like you go get a blood test and the results come back positive. You can pretty clearly be diagnosed if you’re having thoughts of harm or bawling uncontrollably all of the time but the rest are subjective questions that you can fudge a bit, whether consciously or unconsciously.

Did you know they’re finding that men suffer similar symptoms of PPD? It’s true. I read it on the Internet. Actually, it was in my hospital pamphlet and I’m over here thinking “Yes! The conversation is continuing to change and grow and I am here for it!” (And if I’m being honest, I’m also feeling a little bit of “Thank God! Women’s health issues are so often minimized; this could bring changes in standard care!”)

What I’m really coming to believe is that everything is relative and when it comes to mental health and self-care, it doesn’t really matter if you have a clinical diagnoses or not. It doesn’t matter if your bad isn’t as bad as someone else’s. Do you feel off? If you feel off, you already know something isn’t right. You don’t have to have permission to work on righting it. You don’t have to go through it on your own because you don’t feel like it’s bad enough. You don’t have to accept some stunted notion that you’re supposed to feel a little off right now. FORGET THAT NOISE. It’s not for me.

There’s a line at the end of the EPDS test that says “If your total is 12 or higher two weeks in a row, or for any continued emotional concerns regardless of the score, call your health care provider.” [Emphasis theirs]

When you’re hovering around but mostly under 12 or increasing every few weeks but you’re not at 12 or if you know you’re off but you’re not scoring, you read the bold text and you think “Oh, so not me?” You’ll completely read over that second part of the sentence which says, “For any continued emotional concerns regardless of the score, call your health care provider.”

Friends, I’m telling you, make the call. Take the vitamins. Tell your people. Join the group. Whatever it is, speed up the process of healing. Don’t buy into this idea that it’s normal to feel (subjectively) a little crappy in the first year. What does that even mean?

Currently Watching: Workin’ Moms

I watched it a few weeks ago but it has STUCK with me. This show is brilliant. First of all, and this is a bit of an aside, I have concluded that Canada and the UK are better than the US at producing content that matters. Workin’ Moms tackling pumping, Postpartum Depression (PPD), going back to work, the imbalance between men and women in the workplace in a way that is hilarious without patronizing. Bodyguard for giving us a look at PTSD in such a lovable character that you aren’t afraid of or pity. Those are only two examples but they’re crushing it.

Second: The main character Kate. She’s a successful business woman who is respected in her field. She has a normal marriage. She makes sacrifices in career and at home in an attempt to find balance but she’s not comedically failing at everything or winning. She’s one of the boys but also tries too hard and gets awkward sometimes. I love her.

Third: Frankie. She’s Kate’s friend. A realtor with PPD. Having read other reviews, I will agree that the depiction of PPD does wander dangerously into Postpartum Psychosis… but I process with humor and I laughed until I cried when her head was in the pool and she got up acting completely normal when potential buyers wandered into the backyard.

One of my girlfriends stopped by the other day around noon with a care package from our group of friends because they recognize that I’m riding the struggle bus. I considered pretending that I wasn’t home (where else would I be?) but I ended up answering the door with a big ol’ smile in my day-wear robe and pajamas like it was some new outfit I was proud of (thank God for friends who see you). In other words, I can relate to the image of jumping up out of the water to wipe the wet hair out of your eyes and flash that “Everything is fine!” smile. Nothing to see here, ya’ll!

Anyway, at one point in the show, Frankie received treatment for PPD. She stops nursing and the lactation consultant in the moms group warns her that weaning causes hormone changes that can lead to PPD. Frankie looks at her and says something like, “No, I already had that. It’s like chicken pox so I can’t get it again.”

Umm, hi.

Remember when I said I didn’t think I had PPD this time around? Well. Thank you, Workin’ Moms for teaching me that weaning causes hormone changes that can change that and also that PPD is not like chicken pox.

Do I get a prize? Because I am acing hormonal imbalance: 2/2!

More on that later…