I Had Postpartum Depression

I can relate. I wish more women would talk about it. I wish women were not meant to feel bad or like it is there fault. I personally felt so much sympathy for Brittany Spears when she was being deomonized for her post partum depression. Bravo for this mom speaking out.

The Mother of the Year

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I haven’t told anyone outside of my close circle of friends and family, but I think it’s important I share that I had postnatal depression.  I want to clarify that I’m not talking about light baby blues – I’m talking about constant suicidal thoughts that required medical intervention.  I know this is supposed to be a funny blog, but I needed to write this because a lot of moms I know don’t really talk about this.  It’s not terribly funny or fun to chat about over coffee.  It seems a little embarrassing and it belies the happy, fun, ridiculous photos you post on social media.

But I had postpartum depression and it was terrible.  I want to explain the timeline of my depression – right after my baby was born, I was elated.  I didn’t feel sad at all and actually recovered from my C-section quite quickly.  Moira and I…

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5 STAR Review – Left Behind

Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
The author remembers her childhood as a time of excitement and privilege. Her parents grew up next door to each other. After the birth of his only child, her father built on the vacant lot between the two sets of grandparents. It was the uniting of two clans, just like a fairy tale. Even better, she was a Daddy’s girl whose father indulged her with lavish gifts and made it plain that she (not her mother) was the important female in her life. She didn’t think it strange that she and her mother weren’t allowed to cut their hair or that her father controlled every penny, even his wife’s paycheck. That was just the way it was.

Then her father quit his job and became even more controlling. Unfortunately, his little girl had turned into a teenager with a mind of her own. One act of defiance was all it took. His daughter was now “dead” to him. In the ultimate act of revenge, he committed suicide. His only child was sixteen years old and spent the next twenty years hating herself for “killing” her father.

I read the first version of this book in June and I think this new edition is improved. The story is still somewhat rambling, but she has included some new insights into both her actions and those of her parents. She has pieced together the history of her parents and their families bit by bit over a period of decades, as to some extent we all do. On her case the information came from relatives reluctant to remember or talk about old shames and scandals. As she has matured, she’s realized that both sides of her family were dysfunctional. Her father’s family has a history of addiction and mental illness, and suicide is a recurring theme. Her mother (raised by a generous, but domineering father and a passive mother) was unable to stand up for herself and demand respect from her husband.

The book is a compelling read because Ms. Bednar is unflinchingly honest in talking about her childhood, marriage, and raising her own children. Dealing with a combination of PTSS from her father’s suicide and her own chemical imbalances (now treated with medication) hasn’t been easy and I think most readers will finish the book admiring her strength and determination. She’s a drama queen, but that volatility is her genetic heritage and she must live with it. She mentions that, had it not been for her father’s suicide, she probably would have married a local boy, settled near her parents and grandparents, and had a far different life than she has lived. It’s also possible that mental illness would have overwhelmed her, as it did her father and several of his family. She’s not only a survivor, she has learned to face her problems and deal with them.

This book is a valuable first-person account of the on-going trauma caused by suicide. For many centuries, most Christian churches condemned those who committed suicide, even refusing to bury them in church cemeteries. Today, we take a more “enlightened” view, but one thing remains the same. Those left behind are never the same again.

4th Edition FREE for 5 days

FREE E-Book: Left Behind: My Suicide Survivor Story

Free on Amazon Thursday September 18- Sunday September 21…..

http://www.amazon.com/Left-Behind-Suicide-Survivor-Story-ebook/dp/B00NK9D24O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411035570&sr=8-1&keywords=vanessa+bednar

This edition contains 20 pages of FULL COLOR photos of my life.

During the fifteen years before my father’s deliberate, yet tragic suicide, I had a fairytale childhood. Our spacious house, built by my father, was located between both sets of my grandparents’ homes. All my emotional and material needs were met. But when changes started happening with my dad, I didn’t notice them . . . until I willfully disobeyed him, lied to him and betrayed him, for which he shunned me. From my teenager point of view, “that” started a downward spiral, with the end being his suicide: a bullet, a hanging, and my perfect childhood home on fire.

For various reasons, I believed all of this was my fault, and “going on” afterward seemed impossible. So much of “what happened” was immediately put in a box. Throughout the 20 years of the guilt sentence I gave myself, I opened the box time and time again, taking out the pieces of what I’d experienced, examining them and learning what I could about resolving them within myself. Now, having documented it all in this book, the box is open, for all to see. No more secrets.

I want to be clear that in many ways my story is like two different books. This book details my life, my fathers suicide, and after the death. My adult life contains many adventures, and part of which includes an extensive career working for the Hawaiian Tropic Model Search. Every choice I have made in my life and how I have reacted to all situations have been influenced by my fathers suicide in one way or another. I have no doubt about that. I still think about my fathers death every day.

I believe this book can be of great service to those who have lost a loved one to suicide by helping them release their guilt, find what will bring them joy and go on to live a freer, more fulfilled life.
http://www.leftbehind-abookforsuicidesurvivors.com

** Kindle will work on any regular computer.

My friend died- A friend I would not have if it were not for Facebook

Two weeks ago a friends of mine died.  She passed away suddenly and unexpectedly in her sleep.  Stacy leaves behind 5 young children under 9 years old.  She was a friend by marriage.  I was friends first with her husband.  I had known him since I was 17.  I worked on his parents family farm starting right after my father died. Eventually I talked him into being my business partner in a tanning salon of all things.  For years after their marriage I wasn’t close to her.  The magic of Facebook brought us together.  People bash social media. People say everyone is now just on their phones, or computers and not engaging in real one on one conversation…. We are addicted to our phones….people share too much personal information….. kids are getting bullied on line….. blah blah…. What was life like before social media?

For myself it was isolated.  I’ve never been able to express myself fully in person to people with actual words coming out of my mouth.  At a party, if I don’t know people, it is near impossible for me to start up a conversation with strangers unless I’ve been drinking.  I was great at talking to myself… in my head…..  If it wasn’t for social media, Facebook in this case, I wouldn’t have connected with Stacy.  I would have missed out on knowing this exceptional wife, mother, friend, daughter, human. We had in common the death of a parent by suicide.  It brings an instant connection.  We just got one another.  In the past year we liked or commented on almost every post from one another.  She actually thought my youtube videos were funny.  She wasn’t just my “Facebook friend”, but even if she was, even if we never saw each other, I would still value that friendship as any other I had.  In August when I was visiting Illinois with my kids it was Stacy that spearheaded us coming to the farm to visit.  Our kids played together on the farm.  They loved going through the corn rows trying to get lost and eating fresh corn.  I’ll never forget looking back and seeing Stacy and James holding hands walking and smiling.  A treasured memory I would not have had with out being connected via social media.  We even messaged back and forth on the “evil FB messenger” everyone hates the day before she died.  It is also a great tool to instantly connect to those you are wanting to reach out to.  It gives me a little peace knowing that we just spoke…. and she was happy….damn it..

Do I share too much on FB? Yup. So what?  What needs to be hidden?  I need to bury things deep down in my soul to eat away at it?  I prefer to get it out.  You don’t like certain peoples views on FB? Delete them or their posts from your news feed.  Kids are bullying each other on line? Yes, and they have for decades, but you know now what happens?  Attention is brought to the bullying like no other time in history and I believe people are starting to understand the damage it can do.  I believe people now are more inclined to disassociate with bullies and stick up for those that are being hurt.  This can be said for abuse to animals as well.  People are not putting up with those that abuse animals.  They are being publicly shamed.  I remember as a kid, certain kids hurting cats and other animals. A blind eye was turned.  It is becoming very hard to turn a blind eye, because if you do, you are being called out on it.

Are we addicted to our phones and computers or are we addicted to the connection it creates with others and the world?  People need people.  We crave love and connection.  I know I am happier now being connected to hundreds of people then when I was only connected to a handful.  I am just sad one of those connections was severed, but I hope she is still getting my posts in heaven…. I believe she is.

Below is a link to donate to Stacys family.  Please consider doing so.

http://www.gofundme.com/dqesgw

Yes I have my tubes tied! THAT’S NOT THE POINT

Yesterday I found out that due to a cyst getting bigger I will probably have to have an ovary removed. However, to me, this is no biggie. It’s just an ovary. I have two. What did get to me was the conversation that followed. I have written recently about my biological clock ticking and how in the back of my mind I could still pump out one more kid. It was a punch in the gut to be told yesterday I probably won’t ever feel another babies grow inside me. Basically, my time is up…
Nine years ago when my son was born via C section I had my tubes tied. Actually, it was more like they were cut and then burned shut. Like when you burn a frayed rope to keep it from unwinding. I saw the smoke. The tubes were definitely closed for business. I knew I could only handle two children at that time, and I wanted to do my part to limit the world population… Two parents….two kids. The nurses even asked me like 6 times if I was sure. I had t to sign numerous releases. I was SURE. The doctor asked me ten times, right up to the actual snipping. I was Annoyed! I had made my decision. However, I made my decision knowing “someday” I could do in vitro if I really really wanted a another kid. They could suck the eggs out of my ovary and squirt em back in my uterus after fertilization.
Being told yesterday that not only do I have to have one of my egg makers removed, but in vitro will only “maybe” work for another year because I have hit the age maximum was a shocker. Welcome to 40…I am old… Hope for grandchildren now. But, it’s more of a feeling of loss. Like something was taken away from me. I took making life for granted. I donated my eggs twice… I got pregnant so easily. It is now over… Now what? Mind as well take both ovaries now. Who cares?. And if ONE MORE PERSON says “but your tubes are tied?”…”why are you so upset?”….THAT’S NOT THE POINT. That was my choice. I knew I could always do in vitro. My ovary is not just being taken.. So much more is gone…. Forever…. And I don’t choose it.