This is the story of my journey with hypothyroidism. It is a difficult story for me to tell the truth, how deeply the disease has affected me and how hopeless it has left me. The story begins with fear, anger and fatigue, but ends with hope and joy. I hope that by telling the truth about how hypothyroidism affects me, I can help others with the disease.
Before anyone can understand how hypothyroidism affects me, it is important to understand how I was before the onset of hypothyroidism. I have always been a positive “glass half full” kind of person. My husband always told me that he admired my advice and drive the most. I tried to practice gentle parenting. Although I had moments where I lost patience, those moments were few and far between. The whole of my life. I was by no means perfect, but I was confident in who I was as a mother, as a wife, and as an individual.
But shortly after the birth of my second my nature began to change. The patience he typically had in dealing with my typical two-year-olds has diminished. I began to raise my voice to her which had never bothered me before. There were behaviors that were completely developmentally appropriate for a toddler I’m tired, but I rejected him due to having a new baby at home and not having friends nearby. and the family that could help. I accepted that in the process of time I would adapt the baby to the new life. I’ll go back to my normal routine at that point.
Unfortunately, things did not get better, they only got worse. Depression included. I felt consumed by loneliness and despair at the highest levels. I really felt like no one cared about me. I don’t think anyone wants to listen to how I feel. Most people seemed to me to ignore my needs as trivial and useless.
My behavior was impacting my whole family. I started by hitting the grid. There is nothing hard, but it is completely unfair in the mind. I started barking at my husband, so little patience. Tiredness would hardly leave me to get out of bed during the day. The house was crowded. The laundry and dishes are stacked high. All I could do was prepare dinner for my family. I felt completely incompetent. I believed that it was worse to become a wife than a mother.
Obviously my self-esteem and self-confidence plummeted. In addition to not liking how I parented and how I treated my husband, I struggled with my weight. Weight Watchers I started. I found that even though I followed the plan, I gained five pounds in a week. I was disappointed in myself and I didn’t like the ones I liked.
It was good enough that I wouldn’t let strangers know how terrible they were to me. I was able to save face, to be beautiful. Many people were looking at me to have it together. Every time friends and family honor me as a parent inside. You do not know the truth. If you knew the truth, you would be horrified. Pride prevented me from admitting the truth.
It came to a full head when my baby was six months old. He was a baby who woke up frequently during the night, some nights as often as every 90 minutes. My husband, although a wonderful man, had never been a “night parent”. I am completely exhausted and terribly frustrated. At 2 p.m. I left in the evening. Out of control, I literally threw her on the bed and started crying and wouldn’t stop. My husband was horrified and pushed me across the room into the wine cellar. Who cried out to me, holding the innocent child, and I could not see what had happened. I have never, ever been so embarrassed. I finally had a clear understanding of what can happen in episodes of shaken baby syndrome. I felt so unworthy to be a mother.
The next morning I called the midwife at the first moment. I confess that something is terribly, terribly wrong with me. I need help. I had postpartum depression and my midwife could provide a referral to a counselor or psychiatrist. She had entered me on the appointed day.
My midwife was amazingly attentive and not the least bit judgmental in listening to my concerns. I thank God for creating an atmosphere that allowed me to let go of my pride and speak honestly. I was clearly crying when I spoke to her. We talked about the options and suggested a counselor. I thought for a while that he wanted to run some blood work. I was surprised when he mentioned the possibility of hypothyroidism.
When the tests came back, I initially felt that it confirmed that I was hypothyroid. It felt good to know that it was the controlling factor of impatience, weight gain during pregnancy, and exhaustion. I had read some about hypothyroidism. Everything seemed to indicate that it was simple. Take the morning pill and life would return to normal.
I have been on the drug for 8 months now. It is true that my recovery from hypothyroidism was not as simple as I initially thought. In the first few months the medication seemed to help. Then my symptoms started creeping up and became more severe than when I was initially diagnosed. I began to struggle with a violent, uncontrollable rage. I was afraid to be with my children, afraid that I might lose a moment of time. shame returned too. I called the doctor, and I was retained to have my levels checked. The results revealed that I was severely hypothyroid. My grades were worse than when I was on medication before.
I then realized that my hypothyroidism required more than a little pill to “fix” it. In addition to adjusting my medication, I instituted a “thyroid-friendly” diet. I expanded my exercise level. I am also focused on changing how I feel about myself. Managing my hypothyroidism effectively is not just about increasing energy and losing weight. I have to manage my hypothyroidism for the sake of my husband, my children, my friends and my family. Thankfully, life is finally getting back to normal. I discovered my joy and my energy. I have my own life.
For those diagnosed with hypothyroidism I recommend this. Understand the disease. Understand your hormone levels. If symptoms persist after treatment, see your doctor. Learn what you can do to improve your life after your diagnosis. Control your hypothyroidism, don’t let hypothyroidism control you.
