Hazy

I tried calling. I tried calling for help. My employer offers an Employee Assistance Program which offers 6 free visits to a therapist, however, I was just given names of general psychologist who have the standard experience in plain depression only. I know enough to realize PPD must be handled differently. It is imperative to find a doctor with experience in PPD/A patients, otherwise, you're just shoved medication, and belittled for not being happier. So, I was out of luck there. I tried searching through the Postpartum Health Alliance (PHA) resources, but many of their doctors do not accept insurance, of if they do, do not accept my insurance. I can't afford to get the help. My health plan has psychiatrists available, but again, I've no idea if they have the experience and knowledge I'd need. So, I tried and failed. Alfred took the number for PHA's helpline to call for me as I gave up and was tired of being discouraged. I mean seriously, how is any of this helpful? It's just stressing me out even worse. So, he called, and is waiting for someone to call him back with maybe some sort of information.

In the meantime, I fade, slowly, sinking into a hazy stupor. My daughter is my joy. She hasn't smiled at me since Monday. She's smiled at my mom, my step-father, Alfred's mom, and most of all, her daddy. I've lifted myself from the fog to smile at her, to talk to her, to play with her, to bathe her, to read to her and nothing. This morning she kind of crinkled her face at me like, "Whatever." She doesn't want me. She clearly doesn't need me. She's got Alfred. She's got her daddy who loves her so very much and who she obviously loves more.

My joy is lost.