In 1994 our family lost a true mench, my father-in-law and as of now my ex-father-in-law. At the time he passed away, he was 59, worked hard in the yard that July 4th hot afternoon. He went inside, took a shower and was noting how tired and hot it was; blowing lots of air and telling his wife how good the shower felt. After his shower, he retired to the family room, sat down in his chair and told his wife (my now ex-mother-in-law) that he felt as if he was going to pass out. In less than 10 seconds he did just that, and never regained consciousness. He was gone in less than 10 minutes even as his wife, a skilled registered nurse, tried to keep him alive until paramedics arrived.
This one event has had more of an affect on my life than I ever realized. First, being on the outside somewhat, I was able to collect my wife (ex now), pack up her clothing, get a flight to Columbus, OH from Newport News, VA, and attend to her needs at a time of crisis. Second, this taught me that life indeed is short, and to live each day as if it is your last; be thankful that you get up in the morning. Third, it set into motion a series of events that would eventually have a sort of repeat performance that my fraternal grandfather endured when married to my grandmother Sadie. My ex-mother-in-law used to be tempered by my ex-father-in-law, and we had a very warm and comforting relationship. Without that balance, my ex-mother-in-law became a very mean person to me, one that would disrespect me constantly and one where my ex-wife expected me to simply accept it. The other more long lasting effect this event had on my life was the depression of my ex-wife.
Over the period of 3 years, until our daughter was born, my ex deteriorated into a serious depression. Even though I did all that I could to help the situation, and my ex sought professional help, it was insufficient to have the longer lasting affect on our marriage and even our daughter. The depression lead to serious weight gain that culminated in gastric bypass surgery as well as two reconstructive surgeries for the removal of excess flesh, and according to a recently published journal article, sleep problems with our daughter.
According to a recent article, infants born to mothers suffering from depression are more likely to have sleep problems. At the time my daughter was born, my ex was still suffering from depression. It became so severe that it eventually lead to a bi-polar disorder of sorts; not to the point of incapacitating her, but to the point that it destroyed our marriage from frivolous spending, questions of her fidelity, promiscuity, and continued sleep disruptions. The more detrimental effect was on our daughter, who for the first 9 years of her life, hardly slept. It was common for my daughter to get about 4 hours of sleep at night and be ready to play, cry, and just be all day long. Couple the activity of my daughter with her mother's depression, and the entire scenario gets nasty.
While all of this is happening, I am attempting to work on my Masters of Science from George Washington University's Joint Institute for the Advancement of Flight Sciences (GWU-JIAFS). My daughter was born in the beginning of my fourth semester (second year, second class). I'll never forget what happened, because it defined the remainder of my relationship with my ex-wife. Each time through our marriage, when my wife needed me, I was there. When her father passed away, when her grandmothers passed away, when her aunts and uncles passed on, when she was fighting for the survival of her legs due to diabetic lesions, when her mother needed her and I went without her for months on end; I was there for it all. But when I needed someone to step up to the plate to help give me a few hours a night to study, my ex simply suggested I should quit graduate school. I was crushed. But being raised not to give up, I pressed forward with excruciating strength.
The deal my ex made with me was that if I could not get our daughter to sleep by 3am, she would help me out. In order to take my classes for my coursework, one at a time, work full time, and find some time to study, I would get up each morning at 5am, and head to work. I worked from 6:30am to 4:00pm and returned home by 5:00pm. Our daughter suffered from colic, wherein she began screaming around 6pm and it lasted until 9pm. I walked our daughter each day in a carriage to get some outside air, then later to the neighborhood swing set to play. I made dinner during the crying time, while our daughter was slightly comforted by running water, the washing machine, a tape of falling water, the vacuum cleaner, and even an indoor swing. After feeding my daughter, eating, and cleaning up from dinner, our daughter would slowly come out of her colic and I headed to bathe her. Until she was 5 years old, I bathed her nightly; I bathed once she was in bed. After that, I would first bathe her then I had her play and stay with me dressed while I bathed because my ex did not want to be disturbed by my bathing later in the evening. Our daughter would eventually go to sleep by 11pm, when I had the chance to finish cleaning the house or starting/finishing the laundry, and some study until 1am when my daughter received her mid-sleep bottle. Eventually that went away, and she simply was up until midnight. Rarely did she stay awake beyond 3am, and rarely did I get more than 3 hours of sleep at night. Many a night were spent with my daughter, where I placed her in our guest bed with pillows to cradle her, and I slept next to her. For 3 years that was the best way to get her to sleep through the night. The weekends were fun too - entirely my responsibility.
So why articulate all this? Depression is an outside factor to pregnancy. After learning today what lead to my suffering, it all made sense. For years I was blamed for having been the reason for my daughter's nocturnal problems. It was theorized that my active lifestyle was the reason my daughter did not want to sleep. This was compounded by the fact that my ex's family never saw this before; so it had to be me. I just wished I had known then what effect my ex's depression would have had on all of us. Would it have deterred me from pursuing the birth of my daughter? Never. But at least I would have known why I went through hell.
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