Falling Apart

August 2008-

When Emily had her first cornea surgery back in January of 2008, the only thing that kept me going was the idea that by the time summer came and we went on vacation that all of her surgeries would be behind her. I envisioned enjoying the summer at the beach, doing fun things with friends and making up for some lost time with the boys. So in June when we were told that we'd have to take Emily to a Glaucoma specialist and she'd probably need more surgeries, I was devastated. We had already been through so much and just when we thought things were looking up, we get sucked right back down into this hell. It was like someone had punched me in the chest and knocked the wind right out of me.

After returning from vacation and being thrown face first into surgeries that we weren't prepared for, I began to unravel emotionally. My husband would go about his daily routine, which at some times I was jealous of. He had a life outside of our home, complete with friends and distractions from what was going on in our life. He had an escape from the daily ins and outs of Emily's condition and raising 3 children, I didn't. It was starting to wear on me that I was essentially in this alone. When he came home, he would do his best to help out with the kids, the house etc...but no one knew Emily's eye drop schedule better than I did, so I was usually the only one who gave them to her. Jason would sometimes ask me what she needed, but it was still on me to remember. At one point we used a chart to cross off each medicine as we gave it to her, but that started to get confusing and we eventually stopped using it. Jason has always been a great source of comfort and support for me and through the tough times he has always been there for me. But I was bearing the brunt of dealing with Emily's condition and treatment, it was just a fact of life.

It was extremely stressful for me to take on that kind of responsibility by myself. I alone was and still am responsible for making sure she gets the medication that prevents her from going blind. Her steroid drops prevent the corneas from rejecting, the antibiotic drops prevent infection and the glaucoma drops keep (or are supposed to keep) her eye pressure low so her optic nerves aren't damaged. The responsibility of this was mine. The doctors can only do as much as they can in the operating room or office, but it was ultimately up to me to make sure their hard efforts were not for nothing. It just seems like alot for me to be responsible for. I didn't sign up for this, this wasn't in the plan...

I've heard friends comment on how strong I must be. "You are the strongest woman I know, i wish I had half the strength and courage that you do", "If this was happening to me I wouldn't be able to handle it, I don't know how you do it", "You are such an amazing mom, how do you get through your day without falling apart?"....Well I hope I am nominated for an award someday because if everyone thinks I am such a strong woman and am handling this so well, I am fooling them all. Inside I am falling apart, crushed by the pressure of this weight I have on my shoulders. Sometimes the pressure is so much that I feel like I can't breathe, I am suffocating on the inside. My heart is shattered with each medication or surgery that fails, each time not being put back together quite the same. I am barely holding it together and there is going to come a time when I finally just break.

That breaking point came towards the end of the summer when I was struggling to get the boys to swimming lessons on time. I had driven up to the lake and was already late. My parents were staying there and my mom came out to 'help' me when I pulled up. I was so frazzled about who had towels, sunblock on, kickboard, floaties, cooler with essential snacks and drinks, beach chairs bottle for Emily etc...that by the time I thought I had everything together we were already late for the lesson and still needed to take the 5 min walk to the beach. I got Emily in the stroller, loaded up the beach cart and started down the road. About 15 seconds later I realized that I had forgotten to give Emily her eye drops so I had to go back to the car and get them. My mom has never been really good at offering help, or seeing when someone needs help so she just was oblivious to how mentally stressed I was at that moment. I opened the door to the van and something just came over me. I couldn't function, it was like I was frozen and the only thing that I could feel were the tears rolling down my face. I don't know if it was a panic or anxiety attack, but I have never felt something like that before. I broke down in front of my mother and it was like she was surprised that I wasn't keeping it all together. She asked me what was wrong as if I had stubbed my toe or something. I don't remember what I said, but I know I was rambling on and on about alot of stuff. I had hit the wall, I couldn't go any further.

At that moment, I came to the realization that I was in way over my head. I had most of the physical support that I needed (family/friends watching the boys while I took Emily to the doctor twice a week) but I had little or no emotional and mental support. I talked with friends about things sometimes but what I needed most was someone to look me straight in the eye and say...let it out..cry, throw things, take a deep breath and scream as loud as you can. I had no emotional escape. I was so overwhelmed by my responsibility to take care of my family and be 'supermom' that I had no idea how to take care of myself. I needed time alone, time to collect my thoughts and recharge my mommy batteries, time to allow myself to re-focus on what was really important in life instead of all the stupid little stuff. Five or ten minutes once in a while wasn't enough, I needed a real break. There wasn't anything I could do about it other than check myself into a hotel for a weekend and shut out the world. No TV, no phone, no internet. Just me, a few bottles of wine and some good music. But that wasn't going to happen.

After discussing it with Jason, I decided that I needed to go and talk to my doctor. I was not myself and I had been down the depression road once before after I had Tyler, so it was familiar territory. I guess I was just trying to tough it out and be as strong as I could before I resorted to any kind of medical help. I made an appointment with my general physician shortly after my break down. I tried to walk into the office with my head held high, knowing I did everything I possibly could to avoid the reason why I was there. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry, but the moment the doctor walked into the office and said to me 'Wow you don't look so good', i couldn't control it, I just let it all out. I explained what I'd been going through and she told me I should have come to her sooner, "don't be a hero" she said. I laughed, but I guess that's what I was trying to do...be the mom who can do everything and handle anything. I guess there is no such person. There is no June Cleaver...even the Brady's had a maid. What made me think that I was any different?

I left the office feeling relieved but apprehensive at the same time. I was now going to be on anti-depressants, a short term fix and a long term solution. Two medications that were hopefully going to help me get my head screwed back on straight, bring back the happy go lucky person I used to be and enable me to help my family deal with our new 'normal' life. I didn't want to be in this position, but I was and there was no escaping it. I still needed the extra emotional support from family and friends, but that was a whole other issue. Something that to this day has really not been figured out. But we're getting there...