Prenatal Depression: A Horror Story

My very favorite horror story -Last Days by Adam Nevill - starts the same way many horror stories do, with a whisper. The protagonist is investigating what some claim to be a haunted apartment building. Armed with  a video camera, he goes at night to check things out, because of course. First he hears faint footsteps that could conceivably be just the aches of an old building. So quiet, but so unsettling.

I heard the faint footsteps. In the quiet hours between chores, during a nap, or when the lights were off and everyone was sleeping, there was the whispering, so quiet and inconsistent I could easily name it simply hormones, fatigue, winter, bronchitis. I identified it and went on my way.

Next, our skeptical protagonist, catches the faintest glimpse of that otherworldly horror through the viewfinder of his camera. It is so fast and so unbelievable that, although he had seen it, after only a few moments, he shakes it off, puts it from his mind.

There were days, never two in a row though, that I saw it. Unlike our protagonist, I recognized it; I faced this ghost before. It's sudden appearance would shock me, frighten me, but then it would be gone when I woke up the next morning after a bit of a cry, maybe a cup of coffee, and some time getting the worst of it off my chest to David. The next day would be fine. The whole episode seemed so fast, like it maybe hadn't happened. Hormones, fatigue, winter...

I eventually listened to the ghost. Like the protagonist, sighting by sighting, the mystery became more clear. Not hormones or winter. There was emptiness. A disconnection.

I didn't feel this new baby. I didn't love this new baby.

I shoved this away. It's a repulsive thought and I was indeed repulsed by it. And if I didn't shove it away, what could I do with it? Should I share this emptiness and fear with David, the man who trusts me to take care of his children all day? Could I talk to a therapist who would recommend drugs that make me feel spaced out of my gourd? What about the friends I haven't seen in years? Could I pray to a Heavenly Father who has never carried a baby in His body and, according to scripture, loves His children unconditionally? What could He know of this pain?

My conclusion was that I should just leave it be. A couple days a month seems manageable, especially working off the assumption that everything will fall into place once I meet this baby. Besides, how dare I complain about this baby. So many dear friends of mine have bravely shared their struggle with infertility, miscarriages, and lost babies. I have a baby! I have another growing within my body! What a beautiful blessing! How dare I feel anything but gratitude or love?

But I didn't. I don't. I can't.

I am managing though. I do indeed talk to David.  I continue to pray. I'm not sure if my prayers are understood, but I know that they are heard. I will probably seek out therapy, even if just to have another listening ear.

I am haunted but I am not alone.

We are all haunted. Perhaps it is the sickness of our past or the babies we have never held, but we all have our ghosts. I share mine in an effort to put it to rest. I share to include you in my struggle because I refuse isolation. Isolation is a weapon a depressed mind uses against itself, and I will not be my own enemy. I refuse isolation. I do not compare my horror to my friend's; that isn't fair to either of us. Down that path lies useless guilt and guilt that doesn't inspire improvement is simply poison. I share my confidence in the future. Fear is another weapon that I will not have used against me. I will love this baby. Even if it takes longer than that first embrace, I will.


Our protagonist eventually has to face down an unimaginable evil, fight it, and destroy it. He does it alone. I will not.

Welcome Home, Paynes!

We are still settling in (read: there are boxes and messes all over our apartment still), but I think that we are going to be very happy here.

We are in Coralville, Iowa, which is to Iowa City what Orem is to Provo or Ypsi to Ann Arbor. It is very clean and bright here which is quite different that Ypsilanti where we were before. Ann Arbor was beautiful, don't get me wrong, and we mostly enjoyed our time there, but we are excited to be out of there in here in Hawkeye Country.

Some fun things of note since I don't know any history and not that much geography to share with y'all.

• The classic rock radio station (which was the first thing I did when we got here and got all our stuff off the truck) on game days does not play classic rock during the game. They broadcast the Hawkeyes game as if it were Led Zeppelin or the Stones. This station also does GameDay Traffic Reports before the game starts. These folks are not playing around with their football.
• I live even closer to the Target here than I did in Michigan. It's less than a ten minute walk. Also, the Target is attached to the mall. It's amazing and spells trouble for our budget. 
• Our apartment complex has a fenced in area right across the parking lot from our front door that is just for pups! Majzy loves it! They have toys and poop bags and grass; it's the best. Consequently, Majzy can no longer be trusted walking on her own from the car to the front door or from the front door to the car. 
• The Tractor Supply store where we get Majzy's food is right next door to the Adult Shop. Talk about one stop shopping. 
• When we moved in, there were six baby bunnies living in the grass right outside our front window. They have grown up and moved on (I hope; there are a lot of dogs in this complex) but they were pretty much the cutest things I had ever seen.
• I have had a sick tummy pretty much everyday we have been here. Apparently there is something in Iowa water that does not agree with me, but I have lost eight pounds so...just kidding, I'd way rather be heavy than be sick every night!

I think that's about it. When we have our mess cleaned up, I'll do a post (with pictures!) about our new home

Family Photos

Last Saturday, we got our family pictures done by our great friend Megan Hamzawi. If you are in the Ann Arbor area and need photos done, I recommend her. Full disclosure, it was hard for me to be willing to document my body and face at this time, but it is what it is. For now. And I'm just so pleased with my wonderful Hakon that it takes the sting away a bit. But here we are in all our glory; David looking very handsome having lost 20 pounds in the last six months, me looking very...cushiony for my baby, and Hakon looking cold because David and I are still not accustomed to it being cool on an August morning. Scroll through and enjoy!

Megan said that Majzy was the easiest one at the photo shoot. 

We may have a Batman problem. You're welcome, WB.

6 Ways I Cope with Obesity while I Lose the Baby Weight

While I was pregnant for Hakon (HO-kin; it's Swedish), David and I got a Wii Fit. It was -30 outside often so I never left the house, but I knew I needed some exercise. Whenever I got on the Wii it made a sad song and chirped "That's obese!" It was very sad. I couldn't tell it, "No! I'm just pregnant! No! I have to eat to make my nausea go away; it is the only cure I've found!" It didn't care. It just chirped at me every day until I eventually stopped using it. I did need to eat. I was growing a person. I was sick all the time. My doctor wasn't worried about my weight - my blood pressure was great, my urine normal, no diabetes - so I wasn't worried.

Until I gave birth to (well, had c-sectioned) my beautiful son. I lost 20 pounds in the first week of baby weight, fluids and other interesting stuff, but then I plateaued. Breastfeeding has not been some magical whatever for dropping pounds. I track my meals and I walk, but nothing. Stuck.

Me at 220

I am not happy with my body shape.

I am happy with body.

There seems to be this false idea that if you are dissatisfied with the way you look, it is because someone shamed you into that opinion or you just don't understand your inherent inner beauty, and if you are happy with your body that means you never want to change it. I don't hold with either of those things.

I love that my body can walk all around and lift heavy things. This is something that I am more appreciative of since I have had postpartum blood clots in my lungs that are sometimes very painful when I breathe. So on days that I can breathe well enough to exercise, I am extra grateful.

I love the naughty things my body can do with David after Hakon is asleep.

I love and am amazed at how my body makes milk for my son. What? How? It's pretty much magic, I think.

275; just about a week after Hakon's arrival

So, yeah, I like my body. It's a pretty amazing device.  But I definitely want to change it. I carry my weight pretty well. Not around my belly too much, mostly in my thighs and hips. But 270 pounds has to go somewhere and I'm not blind. I can see it. I would like to see less of it. In the meantime, this is how I deal with it.

1) I bought new clothes that fit me well. All my pre-Sam clothes are already packed up for our move. All my maternity clothes with them. I bought new underwear that fits without digging into me. It may mean that I had to spend precious money on clothes I hope to be out of soon. It may mean that all my jeans have a W on the tag. But it also means that I look like a real person who understands that she isn't a teenager anymore. I leave the house and feel pretty good.

2) I went and got my hair done. This sounds silly, but it really helped. I knew that getting back to my old body would take a long time (even longer to get back to my old old body) and I knew that I needed to feel pretty in the meantime. It doesn't matter how many times your friends and family tell you you look good, if you don't feel pretty it's tough. And maybe that's dumb, but it is true. So I got a perm. It turned out really well, it's low maintenance and fast, and I feel more put together and confident when I leave the house. I feel pretty.   

3) I eat foods that I know are healthy. That makes me feel good. I eat fruits and vegetables and protein. But I do not limit myself to only "healthy" foods. I have been sick; I have been having blue days. I indulge in comfort foods. So most of the time, I eat good foods and sometimes I eat food that makes me feel good. This moderate attitude keeps me from slipping into either crash diet or bingeing. The moderation keeps me happy.

Four years ago: 170

4) I lean into the shaming. Wearing cute clothes that look pretty good can often trick me into thinking that I look like I did four years ago when I was just recovered from depression and the eating disorder that went along with it. But when I catch a glimpse of myself in a storefront window, that hundred pounds is very, very demoralizing. So, when I go to the gym, I lean into it. I have a pair of tight, short shorts that are completely unflattering. I wear them at the gym. I look at my legs in the mirror while I lift my weights. I work out even harder. I feel very proud of myself that I am working to change. I can't carry the weight of that shame (get it?) around with me all the time. It's too depressing. But a couple hours at the gym two or three times a week? That's very productive shame for me. It helps when I see that I am lifting more weight than cute skinny girls. Makes me feel more useful. (Don't feel bad skinny girls! I'm sure you are very useful!)

5) I make light (get it) of the situation. David and I laugh about it a lot. I'll say something like "I'm so glad you are still attracted to me even though I'm super fat," and he will say, "Yeah, me too. I'm glad I'm still attracted to you even though you are super fat." (The affectionate, fun tone is hard to convey through text alone.) It's not for everyone, but it puts it into perspective for me when I can laugh about it. I'm in pretty good health, excepting the blood clots, I have a beautiful healthy son, a wonderful husband, and generally a really happy life. It's silly to let myself get bogged down by this one temporary issue. So we laugh and joke about it. Everyone should have a moderator making sure they don't sucked into body image madness. David is mine and he keeps me sane by reminding me to laugh it off.

6) I don't fish for compliments. I demand them. I don't have the patience to wait around for a compliment to come on it's own. On days that I am feeling especially bad about the way I look and none of my other strategies are doing the trick, I tell David that I need him to tell me I'm  pretty. He's gotten used to this ritual and will tell me specific things he likes. That blouse looks nice. Your make-up looks great. I love your hair like that. Look at my pretty wife! He often seals it with a kiss. We've worked really hard in our marriage to always be honest, even when it's hard, so I know that he is saying what he means. If I'm looking pretty rough (no shower, baby puke on my shirt, David's deodorant on because I was too lazy to walk ten feet farther for mine, and a fresh breakout on my chin) and I demand a compliment, he will tell me that he loves me and asks what he can do to help. He'll take Hakon and let me shower, or just sit and hold my hand. In this way he reminds me that I've got more going on than just how I look and our relationship is built on more than our bodies. 

On your bad days, what makes you feel better about your body or your nose or hair or whatever that one thing is that you wish you could change? 

Fiction Friday : Harry Potter

In honor of Harry's birthday yesterday, I have decided to do my very first Fiction Friday post about Harry Potter.

And why I hate it.

Well, that's not true; I just think that Harry Potter is terrible.

Harry Potter is probably our favorite topic of discussion in our home. We talk about the magic and the world and the characters and, of course, Harry. There will be many future Fiction Fridays featuring Harry Potter. There's just too much fodder for discussion. So, for today, we will start small. Let's see. Dumbledore.



No, that's too broad. There are a lot of reasons Dumbledore is the worst (stay tuned). Let's talk about Dumbledore and the Chamber of Secrets! Ground rules: we will only use the text as written by JK Rowling and things that Rowling herself has said.  This will be fun!


Remember Gilderoy Lockhart? The golden haired Adonis of the wizardry world that all the witches are ridiculously in love with? Even our most clever Hermione Granger is not immune to his charms despite his obvious incompetence. I say obvious because two twelve-year-old boys notice it. I don't know how many twelve-year-old boys you have met, but unless it's boobs or farts, nothing is getting all of their attention. Even Hagrid, the guy who tried to raise a fire-breathing dragon in his wooden hut in secret, thinks Lockhart is an obnoxious moron.


This begs the question: how on earth did Lockhart get hired at Hogwarts?

Albus Dumbledore is the best wizard since sliced bread. Everyone loves and admires Dumbledore and if they don't, you know that they are dark wizards, like the Malfoys. As a reader we trust his judgement because people that he likes, we like. Like Hagrid and McGonagall. His greatness is why he is headmaster of, presumably, the only school for wizards in Britain.

But he hired Gilderoy Lockhart! What is going on there? As I see it, there are only two options.

1) Dumbledore recognized that Lockhart was a terribly incompetent wizard (because Dumbledore is not a complete moron) and hired him anyway. In this theory Dumbledore becomes much like the Joker, wanting to introduce chaos to his school just to watch the world burn. Perhaps not chaos. Maybe he hired this idiot to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts because he believe DADA is sort of played out, a lot like HomeEc. No, wait. Dumbledore is one of the few who knows that Voldemort is still out there which would make him one of the few who truly understands the importance of DADA for the young wizards and witches in his charge. Well, this theory doesn't really work, does it? Not unless Dumbledore is a villain. More on that later.

2) Dumbledore did NOT recognize that Lockhart was a terribly incompetent wizard. Now, according to the book, the only people who don't realize that Lockhart is a total twit, are the ladies that are in love with him. Also, maybe, the more flamboyant members of the magical community. But Dumbledore isn't...oh, wait, JK introduced sexuality to her characters by telling us that Dumbledore is gay. It seems that Dumbledore's judgement was so clouded by his desire to get some celebrity strange that he couldn't see what everyone else saw.

I'm not going to go into more detail; gotta keep the maiden voyage of this here blog short and sweet. I can and will and have ranted about this for hours. David and I just cannot let it go. If you have thoughts about Dumbledore and Lockhart leave them in the comments! I can't figure it out.

If you want to read more articles that will ruin Harry Potter for you might I suggest these lovely Cracked lists!
6 Horrifying Implications of the Harry Potter Universe
Why the Harry Potter Universe is Secretly Terrifying
The 5 Most Depraved Sex Scenes Implied by Harry Potter