floating heads

8/14/2019 Floating Heads

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Floating Heads by Catherine Bell

I floated there not quite feeling my body only the sensation

of my head floating, observing - looking down. I felt a quietness

that I hadnt felt since the baby was born. The irritability, the

insomnia, the nausea all seemed distant and like the wife of a

sailor I waved to it as it sailed gently away. Is this what euphoria

felt like? And yet from where I looked down, a person looking an

awful lot like me was still talking to the receptionist at the

doctors office, still functioning as if all was normal. I was truly

impressed with the coherent manner that I continued to talk with the

woman. I congratulated myself from above.

Nature of your visit? she asked.

I am having some troubles with my antidepressants, my look-

a-like answered back without a glitch.

My lips felt a bit numb and my finger tips were tingling but

from where my head was floating, my body continued to function. I

swelled with a sort of awe. I really like this feeling. I can see

why the Wizard went for this illusion in Oz. Who wouldnt want to be

a floating head? As suddenly as it had happened, the sensation

subsided and I felt the full presence of my body the painful

breasts, the headache, the tiredness oh god, the tiredness. I just

wanted to curl up right in the lobby chair and just take the longest

nap. I ached for sleep.

The doctor will see you now, the woman was saying to me. I

got up dragging the baby-filled car seat with me. The feeling of

euphoria long gone, my once floating head hung low. Ups and downs

and ups and downs, the unexpected shifts in mood were exhausting.

What seems to be the problem? The doctor asked as she leaned

over to give my baby daughter, Elise, a look.

Somewhat edgy and just a little bit wild feeling, I poured out

my heart to her. I told her that I was no stranger to depression but

I had managed to keep it at bay before with exercise and the

occasional self-medicating merlot but this time with the baby and a

husband to think about, I didnt have the luxury to nurture the

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Bingo! I answered with enthusiasm I didnt feel. He just

wont accept it. After 20 minutes or more of him giving it his all,

I want to gauge his eyes out! We are having a hard enough time with

intimacy now that we have a baby.

It is not an uncommon side effect of the antidepressant that

you are taking. She said and then added, We could lower the dose

and couple it with an alternative form of therapy.

What kind of alternative form of therapy? I have grown to be

very careful with doctors when it came to depression. Most seem to

be as frustrated by the condition, as I was, and the others were

over eager to try out the latest pill championed from the last

convention they attended.

The Womens Health Centre is conducting a study on postpartum

depression and you would be a good candidate. She said. You would

receive group therapy and therapy for you and your baby.

I looked down at the bundle that was sleeping in her car seat.

My heart tightened at the sight of her. I felt a tremendous amount

of love and almost an animalistic feeling to protect her but if the

truth were to be told, I also felt resentment and even anger at her

intrusion.

# # #

Not being seasoned in the art of leaving the house with an

infant in tow, I ended up being ten minutes late to my first

postpartum depression group. To outsiders, I liked to reference the

group as my Mommy Group leaving the exact nature of it open to

interpretation. The room I was directed to had a few couches thrown

in to it along with a Lazy Boy and a wing back chair. All the seats

were filled except for the Lazy Boy and the wing back. Elise and I

sunk into the Lazy Boy. It was very comfortable and I figured if

this didnt work out, at least I could nap.

Three non-descript women sat slumped on the beige couch, each

with a very generic looking baby on her lap. On the adjacent couch,was a tall thin woman wearing yoga pants, a scooped neck cotton top,

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and a Mayan scarf around her head. Her child, who was more a toddler

than a baby, was also sporting a bohemian look. Directly beside them

was a very short, paunchy woman whose posture resembled that of a

walrus. Her baby, much better looking than it should have been, sat

on the floor in front of her chewing on his fist. Her eyes darted

around the room trying to check out the other mothers. She kept her

head in a timid stance making her look more like a Tolkien character

than a woman who just had a baby.

The therapist came in with an air of calm, having a seat in

the wing back chair that none of us had the courage to sit in. She

smiled and introduced herself.

Welcome, Im Tracy and I will be heading our group sessions

for the next eight weeks of our trial.

She went on to explain what we could expect. Each session

would be two hours long once a week. The first half hour would be

with what she referred to as our dyadic therapist who would be

responsible for helping us bond with our babies. The next hour would

be group therapy and our babies would be cared for by our dyadic

therapists and we would get some much needed mommy time. The last

half hour would be filling out a form on how we felt at the end of

the session.

I raised my hand. What exactly is a dyadic therapist? I

asked. I truly had no idea what I could expect considering Elise

couldnt even carry on a conversation much less an enlightened view

of her feelings.

Dyadic is Latin for with two. Tracy explained. And that

means it is a therapist that will work with you and your baby to

help with the bonding process. On cue, the women responsible for

our baby bonding walked in to join our group.

Here are the women that will be working with you. Tracy

announced and started the introductions.

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My dyadic therapist was named Lisa and she was a gorgeous,

young woman no more than 25 with long black hair and an obvious eye

for fashion. I could tell I wasnt going to like her.

Tracy then went around the room allowing each of us to

introduce ourselves. The couch women all muttered something similar

in ways of introduction. Yoga woman was next and she introduced

herself as Leslie. We learned that she was indeed a yoga instructor

who found herself here after having obsessive thoughts about walking

into the river behind her house. Though her child was the oldest in

the group, 18 months old, she still qualified for postpartum

depression or the Centre was desperate for numbers to make this

trial happen.

The next woman to speak was the one who looked like she just

got off the bus from Hobbiton. She cast her eyes downward and

whispered that her name was Elizabeth and that her baby, Sean, was

their third child. She took a deep breath and continued with more

spirit than I was betting she could muster. She said she could

barely get out of bed in the mornings and when she did she made her

way to the couch.

The lethargy seemed like the obvious (and understandable)

problem to me, but she went on to explain why she was really there.

She and her husband had made some sort of pact to have four children

and now that Sean was six months old, it was time to start trying

for the fourth. She was feeling very down about the idea of getting

pregnant again.

I listened to her trying to be polite by fighting off the urge

to slap her. After hearing what she had to say, I was furious. What

on earth was she thinking? She either represented depression or

stupidity. Either way, if I could slap it out of her maybe I could

save us all? But this logic didnt seem to make a whole lot of sense

even to me. I just held Elise tighter and averted my eyes from her

with the growing sense that I didnt belong here.

Tracy looked over toward me encouraging me to continue withthe introductions.

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I think I might be in the wrong group. I blurted out.

She looked puzzled and asked, Whys that?

I think I might be better suited to a less umm . . . sad

group no offence intended, I said looking around at the women on

the couch. And I certainly dont need help with my baby.

Didnt your doctor recommend you for this program? Tracy

asked.

Yes

Well, why do you think that was?

I sighed realizing before I even spoke that I was indeed in

the correct group.

My antidepressants caused my head to feel like it was

floating. I said matter-of-factly. And although I didnt want to

walk into a lake, I did and still do want to push my husband in

one. I conceded.

We are here to help. She said smiling at my honesty and my

surrender. Postpartum depression takes on many forms. The dyadic

therapists are just here as a tool for you. You should take

advantage of the quiet one on one time you will get with your

child.

Elizabeth leaned over and whispered to me. Ive gotten the

floating head too! she said way too pleased for my comfort.

We divided up into our dyadic groups and Lisa came over to me

and Elise. She cooed at Elise and then complimented me in what I

felt was at best a condescending manner on how appropriately I held

my own baby. She directed us to a blanket where we could sit for our

therapy/play time.

And how many children do you have? I asked knowing full well

those hips had never carried a baby.

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I dont have any children, yet. She said with a smile. But

I plan on having several when I am ready.

She leaned over to grab a rattle with the intention of showing

me how to engage the baby. The back of her shirt pulled up and the

top of her pants pulled down giving me full view of her black thong

panties that displayed sexy in rhinestones on the waistband. I

stopped listening to her after that and just played along throughout

the rest of the therapy to get the benefit of the group sessions

with Tracy.

Once we reconvened into our group and our babies were taken

away with our dyadic therapists, I told the women in the group about

Lisas thong before Tracy came in to join us. They all giggled and

Elizabeth even snorted. We were bonding I guess.

Tracy re-entered the room and the session began. I felt very

comfortable with her. She had the ability to control a room by

allowing us to feel like full participants in the therapy. She

encouraged us to share with each other.

Leslie added lots of calming advice and even walked us through

a simple meditation exercise. One of the couch women suggested a

fist clenching exercise that helped rid her of stress and the other

couch women made a show of it following her movements aptly. It

appeared that we felt comforted in the fact that others needed

coping techniques too. It seemed offering advice to others made it

obtainable to us as well.

Just as we were getting some momentum in the group, I heard

Elise crying. It was a pitiful cry and my breasts responded with a

prickly tingle that meant my milk was going to let down. I sucked my

stomach in and pulled my shirt forward, away from my now wet bra.

Would you like to get your baby? Tracy asked.

Yes I said with some urgency.

Lisa walked in with a wailing Elise and I hopped up to grab

her feeling panicked but incredibly pleased that my baby wanted me

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She latched on with efficiency and I looked down at her.

Well, that was graceful, wasnt it? I said to the now suckling

baby.

Did I just give myself a compliment? I said out loud

surprising myself with a smile through my tears.

The lessons and stories I had learned today floated in front

of me, offering support. I took a deep meditative breath like Leslie

had suggested and even clenched and unclenched my fists like the

couch women advised. After Elise finished her snack, I put her in

her swing, giving it a little push. I headed over to the dish-filled

sink and rolled up my sleeves. It was time to get to work and this

time I wasnt alone.

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