Crazy is as crazy does

Being bipolar is hard. It's even harder when you're unmedicated. And, for me, it's even harder when you aren't sleeping. My doctor thinks part of the key to controlling my bipolar even a little is sleep. I deal with a lot sleep problems, in cooking school it even got to the point that the for an entire month I was getting 10-15 hours a week and was close to being hospitalized. Thankfully I got some sleep. When I was on my medications, I was getting better sleep. Now that I'm off my meds, I can stay up all night. I dont sleep well. In fact I'm not even sleeping in the same bed as Jonathan (and Olivier since we are still co-sleeping) I'm on a mattress in Oliviers room in the hopes I can sleep. It helps but not nearly as much. I'm tired, exhausted sometimes, and yet I still can't sleep and lord help any person who just tries to annoy me the next day. I can sleep, or lack there of, affecting my attitude and my mood. I can see it everyday, and even though I see it, I feel helpless to stop it. I wish everyday that there was nothing wrong me. I feel broken and I can't be fixed. Or I can be fixed but I have to see a doctor and take medication for the rest of my life, which really, really sucks. If you tell someone you're bipolar they think you're crazy. You think your crazy. You get paranoid that they are treating you differently. And some do. Some don't, some worry about you. Some don't care and act like jerks and call you crazy to your face, even if they are joking. I called myself crazy when I first got diagnosed. It made Mari mad. Over the months she convinced me that I'm not crazy, and now I can't stand when someone even jokes to me about being crazy. I told off my ex yesterday for that exact same reason. He's not speaking to me now, he 'doesn't feel like texting'. I felt like crap but sometimes, just sometimes, I have to do something thats right for me, and if it means telling off an insensitive jerk, well then that means I tell off my ex. And I have to admit, it did feel a little good.

Photo Dump Day!

So welcome to my first photo dump!! I was bored earlier so I edited a few pictures I have taken of Olivier over two weekends in the last 2 months. So here you go!

Olivier and Jonathan walking up by the Hill

And now...for my all time favorite.....

Always the Girl Guide

So growing up, I was part of the Girl Guides. Just like the Scouts we were always prepared. I don't just have plan A, there is also B, C and D lined up just in case. When Jonathan and I started trying again for another baby we started bouncing around names. Kinda late this time because by the time we started trying with Olivier we had his name practically picked out (it was either that or Jacob and the whole Jacob/Bella thing I just wasn't going to do thankyouverymuch). Well today we came up with our final girl choice for a name. Rosemarie Esme Jane. Yes I know, Esme is a Twilight name just like Jacob and Bella, but 1. Esme is one of my favorite characters, the way she loves her family is just amazing, not many people love that much, 2. It's a classic name that's not insanely common 3. it was the last name we decided on and it just brings the whole name together. How did we chose the other names? Well Jane is after Jonathan's grandmother, the English version of it, we went with French first name (and eventually a French second name as well) so we were doing an English middle name. Rosemarie is another name from a book series I love (although truth be told, I'm liking Twilight less than before, damn Kristen Stewart ruined Bella for me....although Taylor Lautner made me like Jacob lol). Vampire Academy's main heroine is named Rosemarie. Her personality, she is caring, strong, independent, stubborn and does what she has to to help her friends and the people she loves. The way she reacts, how she loves, and her passion is what makes me love her so much, and right away that's the kind of person I would want my daughter to be like.
I told Dylan the name today, I've already decided (and told Jonathan) that Dylan is going to be the godfather of the next baby. I trust him with my life, I would trust him with my child. I sent him a text telling him. The first person. I sat there biting my nails, hoping someone else, other than me and Jonathan, liked  it as much as we did. I was nervous, it's got names that aren't necessarily popular now. Very classic and normal names. None are even in the top 300 names on the USA census. Rosemarie isn't even in the top 1000. Finally after what seemed like forever (which is only about 10-15 minutes) Dylan texts me back. He absolutely loves the name, Beautiful, is what he said. I told a couple of my girlfriends that I am close with and they seem to like it as well. Phew! I love the name and I want others to love it as well.

Judgey McJudgerson??

Ok I know I've already posted today but I felt the need to vent. I'm an emotional person, everyone who knows me would agree to this in a heartbeat. A lot of things in the world affect me. I was just reading an article on the Daily Mail, Mail on Sunday, about Charlize Theron (whom I love by the way) and the first pictures where you can see her newly adopted son Jackson. I have to say he is super cute. But reading the comments people were posting makes me fear for the future of this world. People are so hateful and judgemental it's insane. For those of you who don't know, Jackson is of African descent. I'm going to plead ignorance as to his place of birth because 1. I don't know and 2. I don't care. I don't understand how people can care so much as to the color of skin that her baby has. So what that she's pale and blond? Does that mean she can only adopt a pale blond baby? To me all that matters when adopting is that you are going to love this child, no matter what, that is the only thing that should matter. My stepmothers bff has two adopted girls from China. I grew up baby sitting these girls and I saw them this past Christmas for the first time in a while. I can't imagine what their lives would have been like had they been raised in China in an orphanage, Devany's was a good, clean place, but Mariah's was far from it, her parent's still haven't shown her the video they took and the girl is 17. Jonathan's aunt adopted twin girls from China as well. I've met them, and they are gorgeous, smart and funny. These four girls were given an opportunity they otherwise would never have had. Their parent's are white (in fact Jonathan's aunt adopted as a single parent), a dental hygenist, an engineering professor and a telecommunications advisor. None of them could pass even remotely close to being Asian. Does this make them less able to raise their children. Not at all. These are people who would never have been able to have children on their own. I always said, and so has Jonathan, that once we are done having our own biological children, we would like to adopt, from China. Who knows, maybe my child (most likely a daughter) would be the one to solve world peace, or cure the cancer that killed her great grandfather, and its something she never would have been able to do otherwise. Would you judge me then for adopting outside of my race? I highly doubt it.

Consequences? What are those?

In my life I have been known for many things, my eyes, my smile, my laugh, getting into and out of trouble easily, my explosive fits, my ability to jump from one unfinished project to the next, being impulsive...I can go on and on. When I was 16, less than a month after my birthday, I attempted suicide. I can't tell you what was going on in my head, I have  no idea to this day what exactly pushed me over the edge. I've always dealt with some depression, anxiety, and a very very poor body image, but I don't remember anything really that could have caused it. Since I was 16 the IWK Grace Childrens Hospital in Halifax referred me to one of their psychiatrists, skip the psychologists, I was apparently too far gone for that. I went to exactly one appointment before I declared to my father I was refusing to go back there. He told the woman who had seen me and she proceeded to tell him I had some major problems. Well yea, thats kind of obvious based on the reason I was there. She encouraged him to bring me back, but my poor father was trying to decided if he wanted to forced his suicidal daughter to do something she clearly didn't want to do. I'm pretty sure he was scared that if he forced me back there I'd do worse to myself. I never went back.
Fastforward to 2009 when my son was born. I was terrified of having post-partum depression. I had read if you had depression (which is what we all assumed I had since I was a teenager) you were at a greater risk of getting PPD. I was pretty sure I had dodged a bullet there, but looking back I'm not so sure. I remember crying a lot, but I don't remember having problems bonding with Olivier, of feeling like I was a failure. In fact I loved it, taking care of him gave me a pourpose. Something I never felt before. But after a while my usual self came back. I had my depression bouts, followed by times where I felt normal, or excited or full of energy. Then followed by bouts of irrationality, compulsive behavior etc etc.
Last year I finally found a family doctor. I was so excited because I hadn't been feeling well for a while, always tired, not feeling well, moody (insanely moody). I was loosing my hair, all kinds of weird  things. I went for a round of blood tests, everything came back normal. My doctor (who had been Olivier's doctor since he was born so I was already very comfortable with her) decided to try something new. She thought that my hair loss was something different from my other symptoms, which she felt was major depression and general anxiety disorder. I technically knew this already, I had been dealing with it on my own for years, but having a diagnosis pronounced for the first time was a bit jarring. I was put on a low dose of Paxil CR to see if it would help. After 2 weeks on the medication I was talking to my best friend Dylan, who also has several mental health problems like myself, which I think is why we are able to not judge each other and are always there for each other. I didn't think my dose was high enough, I didn't notice any change. He told me to wait a few more days, sometimes it takes a little bit to first get into your system. Well he was right, the following weekend it started affecting me. But not the way Paxil will affect someone with depression. I was beyond irrational, refusing to eat, refusing to get dressed, pretty much refusing my life and the things keeping me alive. Obviously this is not a normal reaction and it terrified Jonathan and Dylan. The following week was pretty much the same, I wouldn't eat, although I forced down a bowl of cereal a night to get Olivier to eat his supper, and my friend Mari would force me to have at least a smoothie at work. After that week I had an appointment with my doctor. Major depression was taken off the table instantly. Bipolar Disorder was put on the table based on my reaction to the antidepressants. Antidepressants don't work well with bipolar people, it makes them crazier than they are, and refusing to eat was a crazy reaction for me.
After I left the doctors office that day I, like I usually do, obsessed over my diagnosis, looking at web sites all day long while at work, trying to find myself in these symptoms. And boy did I ever. Looking back I can see all my symptoms from when I was young, in my pre-teen years.
I started taking Seroquel which honestly didn't help do much except helped me gain weight. My dose was adjusted a few times, and finally when Jonathan and I started to try for another baby I stopped it because it was unknown the effect on a fetus. At the same time I was on Cipralex to help with my anxiety since Seroquel has no effect on it. Cipralex is an antidepressant with mixed with the Seroquel I should have been ok. And I was. I stayed on the Cipralex since it was such a small dose (was smaller than the Paxil) after I stopped the Seroquel. That dose was adjusted as well, but I didn't feel as crazy (thanks to Trazadone to help me sleep. Sleep is a good way to help control my bipolar, although I still cycle, its way less often than before). The day I got my positive pregnancy test and was bleeding I stopped every single medication I was on (both for the bipolar and the herniated disc in my back). That was two weeks ago (not even really, more like a week and a half) and I can already feel my old habits coming back. I don't want to take the chance that my medications caused my miscarriage, 1.7% is too high of a chance for me now to take. On my meds I stop and think about the consequences of my actions. Off my meds, I don't care what the consequences are, I just do what I want. I think about all the things I would do off my meds and the fun I had and how I could escape, even though it would cause so much problems in my relationship, and once I was medicated I couldn't believe some of the thigns I did, and now that I've stopped my meds, part of me doesn't care again. If given the opportunity I would probablly jump up and do them agian.
Ever since I was diagnosed I have always had this little birdie in my ear asking, If I had only gone back to see the stupid shrink, where would I be today? Would I have gone through all the mess I have gone through, or would my life have been easier?

Better Luck Next Time

Well it's been several months since Jonathan and I started trying for a second baby. We decided in January and here we are May 4th, going through our first miscarriage. I never thought that I would be part of the 20% of women who will have a pregnancy end in miscarriage. For some reason I, probably like so many other women, thought it wouldn't happen to me, couldn't happen to me. I was magically immune for some reason from suffering a miscarriage (or as the medical journal's call it, spontaneous abortion, a term that I am not ok with, in our world abortion is a choice, this was not my choice). My story is probably like so many others out there who have gone through an early miscarriage, but I'll tell it to you anyways.
Last week I started bleeding, I thought it was just my period rearing her ugly head early. Two days later, on Friday, I realized it had stopped completely. This was something I had never experienced before, a period lasting only two days or a period just stopping. A few friends encouraged me to take a pregnancy test. I did and quickly forgot about it, going out grocery shopping. When we got back I looked, shock of all shocks it was positive. And then the bleeding began again, although only a little this time. I spent the weekend chilling out, spending a lot of time in bed and the bleeding eventually stopped. Monday morning I called my doctor and she sent me for blood tests the next morning. I already had an appointment scheduled with her for my bipolar disorder (I see her once monthly while trying to figure out my medications since I was only diagnosed in December) so I went for my blood tests, went to work and anxiously got through my day to see what she said. Part of me was worried, any blood during pregnancy is worrisome, and part of me was hopeful, lots of women experience bleeding and go on to have healthy pregnancies. My worst fears were confirmed though. My hcG levels were low, very low at only 10. Usually at 4, almost 5 weeks you will be above 100 for sure, usually 400's, but they can also be as low as 5. There was still hope. The next morning my hope was almost wiped clean off the slate. I was bleeding. Alot. Worse than a regular period. The day after that I went for my blood tests again, to see if my levels went up, down, or stayed the same. I was pretty sure what the diagnosis would be, but a teeny part of me wanted to be the exception, the one where yea all that bleeding going on, well thats nothing to worry about. Fantasyland I know, but I wanted to hope, I wanted something to hold on to so I could get through my day at work. Talk about one of the least productive days at work in my life. I read a book all day (Insurgent by Veronica Roth if you're interested) and had my cell phone in my hand wherever I went. Finally, at 3.45 pm the call came. My doctor asked if I had had anymore bleeding. I told her it was pretty bad. She told me that my blood test now came back negative. That meant there was no longer any hcG in my system to indicate pregnancy (for those who don't know, hcG is a hormone produced by the placenta). I had officially miscarried. I knew this was going to be the outcome but I still got choked up as I sat there in the empty boardroom talking to her. My doctor explained that since I didn't have any medical intervention to expel (such a horrible word but at the moment I am at a loss for what to replace it with) the pregnancy tissue that we could start trying again right away. She also told me that even though this was my first loss, she would be following me closely with the next pregnancy, especially early on, lots of blood tests and lots of ultrasounds. For me that was good news. In Canada you only get 1 ultrasound unless there is a reason you would need more (to determine your due date early on, at the end to determine if the baby is head down incase the dr has a hard time telling, if there were abnormalities in the anatomy scan you get between 20-24 weeks etc). You can go to a private clinic if you want and pay out of pocket though. That was something that Jonathan and I had talked about doing with the next pregnancy if this one ended up in a loss. For both our peace of minds. Now we wont have to. My doctor is the best, she always lets you know all the possibilities so you are prepared, what the next step  would be, she explains anything you don't understand. She is very encouraging and believes that this is just one of those flukes, something that happens because of a chromosomal abnormality in the embryo. I think that could be a possibility but today when doing research I found that one of my medications, Cipralex, has a 1.7% chance of causing a miscarriage. For me, that's 1.7% too much. When I had gotten my positive last week, I stopped all my medications (Naproxen and Morophine for a herniated disc, yea I conceived with a herniated disc, that was fun, along with Trazadone to help me sleep and my Cipralex). Tonight I made the decision to not take any medications except for my prenatals and Diclectin, to help with morning sickness but I will also be taking it to help me sleep (for me one thing that helps my bipolar disorder is getting sleep, and I suffer from very very poor sleeping, I never get restful sleep, I'm awake every 20 minutes turning, not sleeping). I just don't want to take the chance, even if my doctor thinks that it was such a low chance that there was no risk at all. Me, I'm not so sure.