The Lowest Point

I went into get groceries today and I remembered some tough thoughts I had had before talking to anyone about PPD. I really debated if writing about this.  I wasn’t sure if it would be helpful to anyone if I wrote it, and in fact I worry it would do more harm.  But then I realized if there is someone else out there who has gone through the same thing maybe they would want to know they aren’t alone. * No Sarah I still don’t have tendencies to want to hurt myself.

I think this was probably the toughest part of PPD for me so far.  I did not deal with a disconnect from my kids like so many women do, in some ways I think I connected to them more. Instead I slowly started to disconnect from Ben.  The thing about it, looking back now, it was a slow process and it almost snuck by me.   But thankfully it ended up being a giant red waving flag.  One that was raised so high I finally clued in something wasn’t right.

It took me looking back to realize it was the thing that really made me realize that I was not coping well. 

Ben and I have always been very attached to each other.  Since we started dating we have spent very few days and or nights apart.  For a stretch we even worked together every day.  People often talked about us being attached at the hip.  And we almost literally were we barely took our hands off each other….get your mind outta the gutter we were PG about it! 

Ben doing what he does.

I really noticed a change with us about two months before Elise was born.  We fought more often, but the thing was the fights were often about silly things.  We would take something small and take it into a bigger area.  Or they were the same conversations we have had over and over again.  But they were intense.  We have obviously fought like every other couple. But we always resolved quickly, sometimes within minutes of the beginning of the fight.  So, when the arguments started having a more intense air to them it felt off, I felt like we were slipping from each other.

When that started to happen I searched for all the plausible reasons.  For anything that would explain it.  Maybe we had kids to early, maybe we needed more one on one time together, maybe I needed to lower my expectations, my list of maybes went on and on.  And some of them really did have minor truth to them.  But, now I realize a large part of it was me picking away at us.  *Note- No Ben you are not off the hook, you still need to work on your shit…yeah I said your shit J

This stuff is almost as hard to admit to as having PPD is.  Realizing that I was literally hacking away at one of the people I love the most.  What a rude awakening.  So not only am I in a dark hole of depression but I drug my marriage way down there with me. I tied it to my ankle and jumped into the deep end of that damn pool again!

In the month following Elise’s birth the pressures of a relationship started to feel too much.  I started to feel like maybe I was meant to be alone. Maybe I was meant to take my kids and just be alone, not have to be in a relationship.  The stress that I felt around dealing with another whole family and the stress of feeling like I was bringing Ben down just felt like too much.  It was feeling more and more  like Ben would be better off either alone or in a relationship that was not riddle with so much stress.

Our little family

It breaks my heart all over again just to write this stuff.  I couldn’t ever really imagine my life without Ben.  I know I would be an empty shell without him in my life.  But I hated seeing the stress everything was causing him.  Ben has got the kind of personality where everyone just likes him, he doesn’t even have to do anything and you like him.  Those kinds of people are usually so kind and almost child like in the way they just love everyone that you really hate to hurt them. OK obviously no one like to hurt anyone, but these kind of people are the worst to hurt.   I think it’s because just as easily as they love they show their hurt and it’s freaking  heartbreaking!

I am so grateful Ben is the supportive loving husband that he is.  But, this just made me think, how many other women (or men) go through this process?  How many people end a relationship because they couldn’t face their own problems?  They couldn’t have the personal growth they really needed?

Because as much as Ben has his faults and needs to work on things, this particular problem was mine and mine alone.  I needed to take the walk down the dark path that terrified me or I was gonna have to face the consequences of what it could do to my relationships.  Luckily as I pick my way through this new patch of growth I have such a great support team, especially in Ben and my mom.   

And now I would say we are well on our way to being even stronger.  I think in my growth Ben has had his own growth.  I truly believe a couple has to grow together.  If growth can’t happen together I think some huge problems occur and sadly someone can get left behind.  I am so thankful that Ben is so open to growth and we can work together on helping each other get to where we both want to be. 

And now I think I am rambling.  Not sure if this has said everything in the way I wanted it to. Hopefully…

Don't Talk, Just Listen

This is a blog post for husbands. Listen, or rather read, very carefully.   This is a note to inform you of some do’s/don’ts when it comes to your wife, or partner, in the following weeks and months after she has a baby.

My husband is great, he really is.  He is so supportive and loving. He is an amazing help with our two girls; he even gets up at night to help out!  We have both gone through a lot of personal growth since being together. I think that it is pretty hard not to go through a lot of growth when you enter into a new relationship.  Anyways, since I decided to step out into the big world of admitting I am not as perfect as I am sure everyone thought (right…family, right…) I have been taking steps to talk a lot to Ben.  Anytime I am feeling a bit down or having a rough day I try to walk him through it.  I tell him the thought processes and how they are effecting me that day.  This usually is pretty helpful.  I also spend time doing this with my mom most days now.

Ben and the girls

BUT. And oh God is this a big BUT. Ben has a problem where this is concerned.  And unfortunately he has had to suffer the consequences.  I feel it is only right to fill in the next guy about to make the mistake so he can survive.  Ben is a fixer.  This can be really great but it can also get him into trouble.  The first obvious reason is no one can be fixed ya gotta do it yourself.  The second and bigger problem is that he says things; he says things that are intended to be sweet and thoughtful but are so, so not right for the situation.

We were driving to Edmonton the other day and Ben was asking me how my day had been so far.  I began the process of filling him in on how it had kind of been an up and down day.  It was a day where I was slowly swimming towards the deeper end of the anxiety/depression pool.  One of the bigger things that had gotten to me was my body. This is not unusual.  That morning I knew we were headed to the city so in a rare moment I had done my hair, put on makeup and headed to the closet….oh how I loathe that hole in the wall.  Aubrey sat contently watching the mad woman I became as I tossed shirt after shirt.  NOTHING looked good.  And I swear if I have to wear Yoga pants for another year I am gonna go crazy!

So I was explaining all this to him. He listened with eagerness.  I continued to tell him that I just felt gross and not really wanting to present myself to the general public.  Again he listened eagerly.  This went on for a while.  I talked about exercise and diet and on and on I went. 

Then it was Ben’s turn to talk.  And what does he say. Sigh, I shake my head just thinking back to it again.  He says “Babe I know it seems tough now, but with diet and exercise etc., I know you will make it different….” Insert the sound of crickets along with the strong smell of defeat that was oozing out of me.  WHY…why in the world he thought this was helpful.  I then looked at him and said, “You have just effectively made me feel like you agree with me that I look terrible…etc…” 

Then I saw his defeat.  Obviously not his intention.  I finished off our conversation with a strong  “Ben sometimes it is better to just not talk, listen don’t talk.”

There you have it men.  Please don’t tell your wife who is 5 weeks postpartum that with a little elbow grease she will stop looking and feeling hideous!

Sisters

Last night my Mom convinced me to let her share some of my writing with my sisters.   I am very close to my sisters.  But it is a pretty rare occasion we share much that is this intense. I think we all assume each other know.  Pretty much I was terrified for her to do this.

Reasons for being terrified 1) I didn’t want them to pity me 2) I didn’t want them to think I was faking 3) I knew Sarah would be on my doorstep unannounced looking for signs of me hurting myself

In the middle of the night last night while I was nursing I did a quick check on my phone to see if any new emails had come in. I like to try and keep myself awake so I don’t end up sleeping awkwardly in a chair.  To my surprise there was an email from Angela. 

Angela is usually the silent one of us girls. When things go wrong or when there is a lot of excited conversation she tends to become the observer.  About 8 years ago Angela also went through a divorce (sort of), she took her two sweet boys and left her husband.  Through this time and for quite sometime after it was pretty obvious she struggled. I mean who wouldn’t? 

My sisters and I

In her email she related back to that time and how she really knew what I was talking about.  Some of the words she used and her kindness brought me to tears. Try nursing a baby in the dark and crying on top of it, tricky. 

One thing that struck me is she talked about feeling like she couldn’t talk to anyone.  Or how she didn’t want to be the only one in our large family to go through a divorce. At the time my grandma and grandpa were the only ones to ever go through one. She talked about feeling like she was not able to give her boys the same kind of intense love she wanted to because she was in a tough state. 

I remember that time in her life. I remember it well.  And reading her email made me think a few things.  1) It made it a tiny bit easier to feel like I have someone close to me that it might be easier to relate with.  2) A little bit ashamed of myself.

It was not hard to look at Angela at that time and see she was struggling.  It was tough to watch.  But as sisters we had always been close and at the same time really tough on each other. We kept each other in check.  But I think we had forgotten to learn that sometimes we needed to just simply take care of each other.  I think the three of us thought by just physically helping with the boys and doing things socially with Angela AND by continuing to tell her she had to leave her situation that we were showing a great deal of support.  But looking back now and going through a depression of my own, I wish I had lived this first so I could have been there for her in the way she needed at that time.

I now believe she needed to be able to feel safe, to feel like she could say the outrageous, nasty, or plain sad things she may have felt and needed to and not feel judged. But instead to just feel whole-heartedly loved.  After all you sisters (and mom) are the people you should be able to say the dark things to, to ugly cry to, to heal with, and laugh at the end with (and maybe a little along the way). 

So I regret that. But I guess I only knew what I knew at the time. I was young and quite frankly self-centered.  

Sarah and I 

I recall one time that I truly was desperately sad and having a mild breakdown where my sisters got me through.  Ben and I had just really started to make a connection and he chose to leave to PEI.  He went with the intent of not really coming back.  So I drove him out to the Bashaw airport where he got in his plane and flew away.  I remember getting back to my mom’s house and my sisters all sitting around in the living room. I could tell they were not sure what to expect from me.  I remember lying on the couch with my head in Shannon’s lap, crying, crying so hard. And her stroking my head. Now if you knew our relationship you would know this was big!  And I remember the others trying to make me laugh and assure me he would be back.   They took me out that night and tried to distract me the best they could.  I remember thinking I had never felt quite so connected.   *side note he did come back 3 weeks later J

This morning as I was taking time to reflect on Angela’s email I looked out my window to see Sarah trooping up the driveway. I smiled to myself.  Sarah gets awkward in intense situations.  This would not be the exception.  She sat in my house for an hour making chitchat.  And I am sure checking my body over for cut marks or sign of harm.  The whole time I was smiling on the inside waiting to see what would happen.  She did finally decide to say something. She’s kind of like a man about it. Few words and tough.  “Read your letters, don’t be foolish, everyone goes through that kinda stuff some people it just lasts longer…”  I could tell she didn’t quite know where to go after this statement.  And I would have loved to get into it with her further but at this point I still feel so weak and no it would have sent me into tears.  Which Sarah would really not handle well! 

I have spent a lot of time wondering why God has given me the struggles he has.  Why I have to walk this road with far too many road bumps.  Through my writing and even just receiving Angela’s email I feel like I may be getting a bit closer to figuring it all out. 

A Night Away

Today is one of my first big challenges since realizing I am struggling with a mild depression. Note I say mild, for some reason I feel its necessary it’s like a security blanket, if I say mild it’s like it makes it better.  Anyways, my mom is headed to Calgary for a workshop and has to stay overnight. So, she invited me along. 

This means I have to leave Aubrey on her own, ok not her own, but with her dad.  Overnight.

I know this should not send me straight to the deep end of the anxiety pool…but it does. The hardest part for some strange reason is when we part ways it will not be at home. We will be in Ponoka at Ben’s parents place, my mom will pick me up and Ben and Aubrey will head home. Something about not doing some of her routine and saying goodbye at our house really gets to me.

Who would wanna be a night away from this?

The idea of this trip only came up approximately 24 hours ago and I think I have talked myself out of going and back into going at least a dozen times.  Last night I even let Aubrey come into bed with me at 11:30 just because I knew she would snuggle me all night and I will have to miss a night of it.  

Last night when she woke to come find me Ben attempted an intercept so he could get her back to bed in her own room.  She sobbed of course, and cried for me.  There I am swimming in the deep end of the anxiety pool, only now the big screen TV is playing out how Aubrey will sob for me, and this time I won't be there…

Crossing my fingers that I can go and just enjoy some time to myself and with my sweet Elise.  Hopefully not too much energy put into fretting about things that are unnecessary!

It's A Scary Word!

Finally I knew I needed to do something.  I knew I had to talk to someone. Because there was no way I was going to let this go further.  I have had many struggles in my life and always, always after talking to my mom and journeying through it I felt better and life moved on happily. 

So, I sent an email. I never felt like I could start the conversation face to face.   Well the email was vague and I think left both my mom and Ben quite confused about what I was getting to.  One night my mom finally came over to chat about it.  I thought I’m going to have to just say it. 

Thankfully my  mom alluded to PPD for me.  So I had the conversation. I started to explain to her the reasons why I thought I might have a mild case. She got it, she agreed and we were going to look for natural alternatives for treatment ( I am not a big fan of drugs). 

What shocked me is through the whole conversation I kept my composure. I never do this when I have conversations with my mom. The hard ones like this always end with me in tears.  This time I was strong, because clearly once it was named and we all knew  I could move on.  Mmmm not so much….

Here I am today about 5 days since that conversation and almost anything will send me into tears. This was the first time I did not feel better after having talked to my mom.  It has sent me into an emotional warfare. 

I still have a hard time actually saying the words. I tried talking to Ben about two days ago and when I attempted to say the words that make up PPD it felt like my throat was closing in.  The tears came instantly.

I feel like I am the broken one. The person in the family who was to weak to do it all. I watched my sisters go through pain free pregnancies, raise there children with ease and never seem to have troubles.  I would ilke to point out that I love being a mom and taking care of the kids is easy, taking care of myself emotionally is not. 

So seeing myself as the weak one and the one who can’t keep up is so hard.  But then on top of it feeling like you need to hide it from everyone is even harder.  Everytime I think about having the conversation with one of my sisters the tears come.  How do you sit down with someone you love and say “I have post partum depression and basically feel like a failure in comparison to everyone else” .  thinking of doing this just breaks me even more.  How do you tell someone that you are so in love with your children but that you are depressed.  Because of course people will think that you hate being a mom, you are going to harm someone, and that you wish you didn’t have kids.  None of this is true for me. If my body allowed me I would have 5 kids! 

Luckily for me the PPD is mild.  I do not have the extreme feelings that some women do, I don’t feel like hurting myself or children. I am easily able to connect with my girls and love on them (this is not always the case for women with PPD). 

So now I am trying to see where I go from here.  I feel like God is trying to test me to see if I am strong enough for whatever is coming next. Who knows what that could be?!  And I find myself thinking, why couldn’t he choose something a little kinder to teach me my lessons.   

How can you ever admit?

When I was pregnant with Aubrey and had a condition known as SPD.  In short it’s basically when the relaxin hormone is released too early in your body and causes the ligaments in your pelvis to loosen and things become unstable. With Aubrey I got this around the 20 week mark. 

For half of my pregnancy with her I was in pain every single day.  It hurt to sit down, get up, walk, turn over in bed (sweet mother of pearl this was brutal), basically anytime movement was involved it hurt.  So you get the point, things hurt.  I was told not to worry there was only something like 3% of women who didn’t recover from this condition. They say basically giving birth is a cure. As soon as your not pregnant things go back to normal.

Lucky me I fall into that 3%.  I never did recover.  I attempted workouts to strengthen myself, which usually ended in me being in worse condition. I finally (two months before getting pregnant again) found a physio therapist who specialized in this condition. She was a great help, it gave some relief, but never healed.

In between me quitting nursing and getting pregnant with Elise I had a 3 month break.  3 months was going to get me healed and perfect and ready to take on 9 months of torture pregnancy again.  Sigh…so naïve.

Looking back I do think in the few  months before getting pregnant again I was starting to have some signs of PPD.  Which I didn’t realize because Aubrey was like 8 months old so surely I couldn’t get it then.  And I think the pain that I felt everyday from my pelvis and back was not exactly a helpful contribution to feeling skippy everyday!

I do remember at one point before I was pregnant again having a conversation with my mom and Ben about how I was feeling. We had determined that it was unlikely it was PPD. You know with our medical degrees and all we clearly knew!  I think at that point I knew, I knew it was mild but I knew the name.  I remember distinctly my mom saying “I really don’t think its PPD”.  Now I don’t know if I never gave enough information on how I was feeling (very likely) or if she just didn’t want me to have it. Knowing my mom I would say I clearly had not shared enough information for her to properly help. 

The first few months of my pregnancy with Elise were pretty good. I was doing my exercises, eating well, and most importantly choosing to stay positive. I was sure I could positive my way through another pregnancy.  Well then 15 weeks hit. Insert lovely SPD and positive had some competition!

38 weeks Pregnant

I was able to fight my way through pretty good until about month 7.  Then I was crumbling. But because I have always had a strong urge to keep my private life private I battled myself.  I tried so hard to fight on my own.  If people asked how it was I would respond “oh good” or “a little sore but really good”.  When secretly I am thinking “If only you knew”. 

Now I think as a quick background you need to know that I come from a family of really strong people. Strong physically and mentally.  In my head I could not be the weak one. Correction I wouldn’t be the weak one, leave it to someone else to be the weakling cause it wasn’t gonna be me!

Every now and then I would have the urge to talk to someone, and aunt a cousin, a sister but then I would imagine the conversation.  And (again in my head) it always went with them being kind on the outside but on the inside thinking of me as weak and a whiner and that clearly things could not actually be that bad.

Normally I have Ben and my mom who I lean on very heavily when these kinds of things are happening. But they were busy.  The company (that they both work for) was becoming increasingly busy, they were travelling a lot, Ben had a side company that was thriving (almost too much).  And I knew they were both pretty frequently overwhelmed. I didn’t want to add to that. I figured this time, this time I would go it alone.  I come from a strong pedigree surely I can suck it up and get through.

Well fast forward to the last month of my pregnancy and I was a mess. Poor Ben I don’t know how he made it through.  I could hav a major breakdown at the slightest of things.  I tried talking to Ben a bit, but I think he just wasn’t getting it. I avoided my mom. I knew she would know.  There were even a few times that I know she was giving me the opportunity to open up and I quickly surpassed the opening and got us on to other topics.

When it was getting closer to the end with Elise I started having minor panic over things that to me seemed unnatural.  I felt so guilty at the idea of bringing in a new person to Aubrey’s life, turning her world upside down.  Logically I was so excited for her to have a sibling, especially a little sister. But how in the world was I going to be able to have the same kind of time with her that I was before?  I was going to have to have Ben or someone else helping with the things I had so much anxiety over before.

Insert new anxiety.  What if Aubrey stopped being connected to me and loving someone else more?  Really I know this is illogical but it was a problem.

When Elise was born I didn’t have as much of the anxiety over her safety as I did Aubrey. Now to most people you would think “ahhh that other stuff was just first time mom stuff. This is your second you are a seasoned pro” Which likely that is right. To me I thought “does this mean I don’t love her as much?” 

Elise 

Photo By: Roxanne Miller Photography

The first two weeks at home with Elise were easy and hard. They were easy to transition to the physical work of two kids.  Both Aubrey and Elise are super easy going. Elise is an amazing sleeper, so it was easy. Emotionally, the hardest thing I have had to do.  I tried to line up everything so I could still do it all. I could nurse Elise, get a meal ready, tub Aubrey, Nurse Elise again, rock Aubrey to bed, nurse Elise and still stay sane. Because obviously a woman recovering from birth can do it all.  side note Ben was amazing and tried to help where I would let him. 

I remember one night sititng in my rocking chair with Aubrey fast asleep in my arms and crying. Crying uncontrollably.  Thinking “what had I done”.  Surely she felt neglected and that I didn’t love her the same, and then I would think  can I love on her in the same way? 

So  a new battle began to rage. I was connecting super quickly with Elise, bonding and falling fast in love with her. But then the guilt and sorrow for Aubrey settled in. It is extremely hard. I was an emotional mess. I know Ben was worried and a little lost at sea wondering what the heck to do with me. 

I tried talking to my cousin Justine a bit, she assured me she had some similar feelings when she had her second. I talked to my mom a bit and she too assured me this was normal.  But I let the sorrow take me away.  I started to fall. Sure there was planty of hours or days where the sun broke through and all the happiness of having a new little person to love and care for would break through.   But I couldn’t seem to fight my way out of this one.

Again I knew. I so knew I was heading down a path that was going to require help. This fight was not gonna happen on my own.  But how do you admit to the people you love the most that you are broken?  You are not a perfect specimen? How do you say I am at the happiest point in my life and I can’t stop crying or feeling overwhelmed by ridiculous emotions?  How can I do this when the many women in my family before me have gone through having children and they were fine? 

The Start

I remember so badly wanting to have babies.  Probably about 3 months before my wedding the feeling really kicked into gear.  It was probably only days after our wedding that I really started to talk to Ben about how ready I felt to start a family. I knew he felt the same although we both wanted to do a little travel before.  So we had planned a trip to Costa Rica.

About a week before the trip we were at a family thanksgiving (October) when my cousin Justine announced she was expecting her second child.  I can recall so well Ben and I looking at each other and having a quick hushed conversation. Our fate was sealed; there would be no waiting we were officially trying.

Ben and I in Costa Rica

Off to Costa Rica we went, and pregnant we were basically instantly.   Now I don’t know if it happens for all women but I felt instantly connected to this new baby.  I remember in some ways talking to baby (in my own head…no I am not certifiably insane, at least I think…).  We decided to stay team green and not find out what we were having.

But I knew. I have never felt so sure about anything as much as I was that I knew we were having a girl.  Many people tried to convince me that it was a boy. In fact they were sure of it, the way I was carrying, the way I looked, my morning sickness the reasons went on and on.

My sister Sarah and I made a deal. If I went into labour anytime before July 21^st she was allowed in the delivery room. I made the bet feeling safe I would win since I was not due until August 5^th. And all first time moms go overdue.  In the wee hours of July 22^nd I woke up to full on labour.  My little girl was already torturing her Aunty.

This is where I believe the beginnings of my anxiety really kicked in (depression never came until much later and more in my second pregnancy).  I remember lying in my hospital bed the first night after Aubrey was born and suddenly feeling panic.  I was so sure she would stop breathing at any second. And I knew that I could never handle that. So, I did the only logical thing…I held her and stayed awake almost all night until Ben took over for an hour at 6 am.

Life with Aubrey was amazing. And truly the adjustment to suddenly having this tiny little life to take care of was not that huge. But the anxiety…oh the worry.  The second night we were at home my Mom finally convinced me to go to bed and she would hold Aubrey until she was really asleep and slip her into her bassinet and leave. I agreed.  That was probably the first sleep I got.

Aubrey and I a few hours after she was born

I quickly picked up life almost exactly where I had left it before Aubrey. I took her everywhere. I went to the movies, swimming, out to dinner with friends and family.  There was almost no place I didn’t take her along.

There were little things that I often wondered if they were normal. I worried constantly about her breathing; in the middle of the night I would bolt awake in panic sure I would find her lying there blue and unresponsive. 

As she got older the worries turned to other things, is she eating enough, sleeping enough, am I interacting with her enough, the list really went on and on. But I was happy. I loved being a mom, I even stayed calm through the 4 weeks of torture that breastfeeding was in the beginning.  And Aubrey was an amazing baby. She almost never cried. I remember my Aunty Dawn telling me that her and Lee had had a conversation with him telling her “Don’t say anything to anyone but I think something is wrong with that baby, seriously she doesn’t even cry!”

Amidst the happiness the anxiety festered.  It planted itself and dug it’s roots deep inside me.  I started worrying about bigger things. Things that I knew were not worth worrying about, but just couldn’t stop.  My biggest worries came when I weaned Aubrey and she was ready for babysitters. Oh my. I wondered how mothers ever left their children (I still do).  Not just because of the worry but because I loved her SO much.

I worried that anyone who babysat her would miss something. They would not be watching and she would fall down the stairs, choke, become inconsolable, or maybe even the worst feel like the only person she was truly attached to (myself) had abandoned her.  The thought of that nearly choked the air right out of me anytime I let my mind go there. 

Slowly I did start to have different family members watch her.  It took me until she was 18 months to leave her overnight. And that was because Ben went ahead and surprised me with a trip to Vegas. Otherwise her first night away from me would have been when Elise was born!

Another thing that always got me (and if I am honest still does) is I could not let someone else do bedtime routine with her.  After all they didn’t know her routine, the little things that comforted her to go to sleep. Her playing with my hair, the song I would sing every night, the prayer I always did with her. She was so attached to me and we both bonded so much during this time that it felt like if I gave it up it would leave her feeling abandoned and would slowly eat away at our connection. 

A few times I would try letting Ben put her down, this almost always ended with tears for her and it tortured me.  My heart physically hurt.  Ben and I would make a plan to break the old routine of Aubrey only wanting me. This plan would last one night of me hearing her and then I would find reasons why I should be doing it. And I missed it.  There is something really bonding and special about the time when you hold your child as they drift to sleep. 

Aubs

In hindsight I feel a bit bad that I robbed Ben of getting to have the same experience I did.  He really missed out on that part of Aubrey’s first year.  And now we have a bigger problem of her wanting no one but me, and sometimes Grandma Jackie. 

So, as you can see there were signs of the anxiety. But I think for the most part I did a really excellent job of hiding it. Well maybe not from my mom. But everyone else would never have known what I went through most days.