In late 1991 my husband John, (sorry ladies, I'm the one who got the most wonderful man on earth) and I decided to start a family. I became pregnant right away. My pregnancy was relatively easy. I quit work in August and on September 19, 1992,two days before my 27th birthday I gave birth to a beautiful, tiny (5lbs, 12oz) baby girl. Jessica.
For the first few weeks I was terrified. What did I know about taking care of a baby? In the months that followed, I found myself unable to watch my usual crime dramas and documentaries on t.v. but stuck to sitcoms and baby shows. I was a little weepy and was assured that I had the "baby blues" and it was perfectly normal, which I suppose it was. When Jessica was six months I came out of the fog thinking "I can do this" and feeling very confident and happy.
When she turned one year, we decided to try again. No sooner did we talk about it than "voila" I was pregnant again. Another normal pregnancy and on June 11, 1994 I had a bouncing 8lb, 15oz boy. Derek.
Only two months later I had my gallbladder out and needless to say looking after two babies was much harder. In September, my G.P. prescribed antidepressants. By the summer of '95, my husband convinced me that the state I was in was more than just the normal fatigue of looking after two little ones. He took me to see an EFAP counselor at work (we both had the same employer) and she said the words that saved my life: "You don't have to live like this" She hooked me up with a psychiatrist and my odyssey began.