b12 deficiency or pernicious anemia

Up until very recently, I thought I was suffering from Postpartum Depression (PPD). My son is almost 5 months old, and I just couldn’t shake the ‘baby blues’.

Most of my days were filled with mood swings from anger to extreme sadness to just plain emptiness. I felt lost, confused and alone. Completely terrified of how I was feeling, but just as terrified to talk about it or ask for help.

Then I started to put the pieces together with a few more symptoms. Yes, I have been ‘depressed’… but I have also been dealing with other symptoms. ’Tingling’ in my hands and feet for one. (You know that feeling when your foot has fallen asleep and is starting to wake up? That was me… every night… except it wasn’t from sleeping in a funny position!)

Then one morning I woke up with a painfully swollen tongue! (yuck, right?!) I have always had problems with a bit of swelling in my tongue (a common side-effect of anemia, which I have always had!) but this was much worse than usual, and painful… which I had never experienced before.

So… I googled. Yep. Don’t laugh… you’ve done it too!

Anyways, I googled “swollen tongue” and the first link that showed up took me to a page talking about pernicious anemia or vitamin B12 deficiency.

It was there that I put all the pieces together… the tingling hands and feet… the swollen tongue… the tiredness, weakness and forgetfulness… the clumsiness (have I told you how many times I’ve broken my toe in the past few months?! Let’s just say, it’s been more than once!)even the depression. It all fit.

Now, I know most of you are thinking “great! what did the doctor say?”… well, I haven’t gone to the doctor about this yet.

Before you judge, please see the pieces of the puzzle (scattered on the floor as they are)… I have 2 boys under 2, with little to no help nearby. My husband works long, long hours and my family lives far away. Taking my boys with to a doctor’s appointment just seems… impossible. At least in my current mental & emotional state!

I also don’t have a regular doctor, as I have never found one I love in my 5 years living here, and I hate ‘cold-calling’ doctors.

I did hours and hours of research and the only treatment for B12 deficiency or pernicious anemia (yes, those are 2 different things… or 2 forms of a similar thing! I could have either of them.) is taking large doses of B12 for the rest of your life. There is no cure. And there is no radical treatment other than supplementing.

So, that is my plan. I will supplement and if it works, continue to do so for the rest of my life! :o) When I find a doctor, I will talk to them about all of this. Until then, I will keep on doing as I’m doing… as long as things continue to improve as they have!

today…

has not been a good day. PPD is kicking my butt, and I’m having a hard time staying on my feet.

Already this morning I have lost my temper too many times to count admit, and the day is not even halfway over. My emotions surge between anger, suffocating guilt, sadness and complete emptiness.

My heart is breaking for the life my children have to endure at the hands of my illness.

Why is it so hard to ask for help? Why am I so afraid??

Why, when I feel this way inside, will I paste on a happy face when my friends come over and when my husband gets home… pretending that it’s all ok?

Because… that’s all I know.

I don’t have the strength for anything more.

I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it out…

What triggered my PPD, that is.

When Bjørn was a baby, he was very sick. He had Silent Acid Reflux that was incredibly painful for him and took us months to diagnose. My life was completely consumed with doing whatever I could to ease his pain, which mostly meant nursing him 24/7. He needed the comfort of sipping and swallowing warm mama’s-milk to soothe his burning throat.

My focus on him isolated me even more in my own little world than I had already been… in a new town, with no family and very few friends around. This isolation set me on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to save me, or for something to push me over the edge.

When Haakon was born, I was pushed.

His birth was beautiful, empowering and awe-inspiring. But we quickly realized that he had a birth defect. He was born with an Asymmetrical Gluteal Cleft (basically lop-sided butt-cheeks) and at that point had a space in his lower spine that needed further investigation and a large skin tag on one butt cheek.

We later found out that the space in his spine is no longer there and an MRI revealed a perfect, healthy, normal spine. There is nothing wrong with Haakon beyond the superficial asymmetry of his butt. We’re ok with that. And he will be too. He’s healthy and at this point there is no reason to believe there will ever be further concern over his birth defect.

But… there it sits.

Those words… ”birth defect”. My son was born with a birth defect.

What does that mean? What did I do wrong as his mother? It must be my fault, right? I am the one who carried him in my womb for 9 months… there is no one else to blame but me, right?

Now as I am healing, those thoughts are fading… but they are never completely gone. Some part of me will always believe that this was my fault. That if I had just taken better care of him, of myself, that he wouldn’t have to live with this reminder of how I failed him.

I know that this is not the only reason I now struggle with postpartum depression. There are many factors involved, and I am starting to see them come to light in my innermost secrets… but it is the biggest thing. The straw-that-broke-the-camel’s-back as ‘they’ say.

Or maybe this new revelation, or belief, or whatever you want to call it, is just my way of holding on to a small glimmer of hope that I won’t have to go through this again with my next child. That maybe, if we have a healthy baby with a normal birth and no complications or illnesses, I will be able to enjoy new-mama-hood and experience what it’s like to be ‘that’ mom… the one I’ve always dreamed I could be.

ppd and having more kids…

Am I afraid to have more kids? Am I afraid that next time, my postpartum depression (PPD) will be much worse? Am I afraid of the unknown? Or even worse… the known?

Of course I am!

But… I am even more afraid of not having more kids! I am more afraid of letting my PPD control my life and ruin the dreams I have for my life.

I want more kids. I want a big, beautiful, full family… and I will not let this temporary illness steal that dream from me!

I am not…

I am not PPD. My postpartum depression does not define me.

I am a woman who suffers from postpartum depression.
It is a big part of my life right now… but it is not who I am.

First and foremost…
I am a mom. A wife. A daughter. A friend.

Behind the walls, the tears and the struggle…
I am me.

Love me. Pray for me. Wait for me…
I will find myself again.