parenting – On the Horizon Line

Rob Roberts and his son, struggling to transition to parenthood

Family and Friends, Parenting, Pregnancy

When Postpartum Depression Stole My Husband

I thought only new moms could get mood disorders. But dads like Rob can get it, too.

In 2014, just a few weeks after we returned from our sailing trip across the Pacific, Rob began suffering from insomnia, paralyzing indecision and panic attacks. I was six months pregnancy, and didn’t understand what was happening. Rob had always been the even-keeled one, the one singing aloud in the grocery store and keeping his cool in crises. Neither of us had any previous experience with mental illness.

I attributed Rob’s symptoms to the fact that we were adjusting back life in the United States after spending a year abroad, both of us stressed as we searched for jobs and prepared to become parents.

I had hoped that everything would get better after the baby came, that seeing his son’s face would reset the broken parts of Rob’s mind. Instead, everything shattered into finer pieces — he became sullen and suicidal, convinced that he was doomed.

Although Rob was eventually diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and severe depression, the psychiatrist never linked the illnesses to the changes associated with becoming a father…even though research has shown that up to one-quarter of American dads are afflicted with postpartum mental illness.

This month I shared our story in The Washington Post. Although I don’t go into the backstory of Rob’s illness (our year footloose and fancy-free, hitchhiking on sailboats in the tropics!), our experience sailing the Pacific is forever juxtaposed against the following year, spent in a sea of mental anguish. My memoir details both years, and I hope to find a publisher for it soon.

Meanwhile, I hope you’ll read the short version of our story here, and share it with other families who might be suffering from parental mental illness in silence.

In lighter-hearted news, I’ve started a new blog called Adventure Families. If you’d like to continue reading my stories about exploring outside with kids, sign up here to receive posts in your inbox. This blog will be dormant for a while as I focus on the new one 🙂

Read The Washington Post article >>

Steve Randall, John Castle, Bob Randall, and Brian Pike showing off their "raft" before launching on the Colorado River.

Outdoor Adventures

Just Like Huck Finn

When my dad was 17, he floated 60 miles of the Colorado River on a ping-pong table. Along with two friends, he set off like Huck Finn into the wilderness to see what might happen. Luckily, they tested their “raft” in the neighbors pool before setting off. The suburban backyard didn’t have the desert winds or rapids that quickly poo-pooed their primitive rudder system, but the contraption did indeed float. Somehow.

Fast-forward 45 years to a smaller river in Oregon, where Rob and I loaded his grandson onto a real raft for a 5-day, 70-mile float. Even though I’ve been on dozens of river trips, rafting with a 9-month-old felt a lot like getting on a rickety ping-pong table strapped to some inner tubes: precarious.

I wasn’t scared of the Class III/IV rapid we’d cross on the John Day River. I wasn’t scared of wildlife or weather events. I wasn’t even scared that Talon might fall in the river. I was terrified, however, that Mr. Wiggly-Crawly-Has-To-Stand-And-Move would scream bloody murder about being trapped in a small space.

Margi gets some time with little man while we rig the raft.

Talon, like his grandfather, is an adventurer at heart. But, unlike his grandfather, he required a LOT more gear to get down his first river. My dad and his friends took a couple of lawn chairs to sit in, sleeping bags to huddle in, and a wooden chest bolted to the middle of the “raft” to hold food (and quite possibly beer). Our party of roughly the same size filled a 14-foot boat to the gills.

To be fair, Talon’s gear accounted for one medium-sized dry bag. Kipp, Rob and I, however, like having tables and guitars and comfy tents and binoculars and all sorts of other fun toys. Plus, we brought along a 110-pound wolf/shepherd, too, which really impacted the Jenga-like raft packing system.

Just chillin' in the Alpaca packraft. — Just chillin’ in the Alpaca packraft.

Once we figured out how to rig the boat to contain the giant dog, tiny baby, three adults, and oddly-shaped gear, we were off. Sort of. Turns out that he John Day is awfully slow. Low flows and up-canyon winds combined to push us backward instead of forward.

Uncle Kipper saved the day by rowing non-stop … for five days. Meanwhile, Rob and I took turns corralling Talon in the bow, scouring the red riverside cliffs for new birds, and generally enjoying the pace of life on water. (Thanks, Kipp.)

Talon’s highlights from his first river trip include:

watching a pair of peregrine falcons
playing with zippers in the tent
banging on a bucket
staring at riffles
eating rocks

His parents’ highlights from the John Day include:

mom sleeping in a separate tent to enjoy uninterrupted sleep
dad teaching Talon to give high-fives
not riding on a ping-pong table
good conversations
whiskey

Talon made sure that Kipp is rowing straight. — Talon made sure that Kipp rowed straight.

The rafting trip was such a success that we decided to try our luck at a second week. We traded in the raft for the car and headed to the Oregon coast for an impromptu extended vacation — and my worst fear was realized. The car seat always causes Talon to scream bloody murder. Fortunately, he forgot the torture of the road as soon as we arrived at new shores, full of new rocks to taste and new waves worthy of his gaze.

Someone is as obsessed with tending the fire as his daddy.

Uncle Kipper serenading us before bedtime on the John Day River.

brianna randall packrafting the siletz river — Bri enjoys a solo afternoon packrafting down the Siletz River.

talon and brianna randall on oregon coast - adventures in parenting — Bri and Talon enjoying the Oregon Coast.

talon playing in sand on oregon coast - adventures in parenting — Talon happy about eating sand near Newport, Oregon.

"Hey, did you guys know we're in the middle of this big river?" — “Hey, did you guys know we’re in the middle of this big river?”

brianna and talon on walk with beco gemini in parka 2.5 months

Parenting

I am not a superhero

I went to an inspiring talk tonight on social media strategies. I know: most of you wouldn’t write “inspiring” in the same sentence as “social media strategies.” Totally understood. For me, though, it was the first professional development opportunity in months, and I grabbed it with both hands and a Beco-full of babbling baby.

Talon happily “wah-wah-wah’ed” loudly through the first half of the presentation until I shoved a boob in his mouth and he fell asleep. (Note: I highly recommend the Beco Gemini as it allow moms to be superheroes who walk, talk, professionally develop, and discreetly breastfeed all at the same time.) The second half of the presentation inspired me to do two things: blog more often, and drink a stout while reflecting upon the fact that I don’t really know if I like Twitter.

The Beco in action on a hike in the Rattlesnake Wilderness. I swear there's a sleeping baby under that blanket. — The Beco in action on a hike in the Rattlesnake Wilderness. I swear there’s a sleeping baby under that blanket.

Twitter aside, I’m here with my stout, blogging. But what about? That’s what usually keeps me from blogging: the fact that I don’t have a tidy five paragraph essay with a clear beginning, middle and ending to share with all of you. I’m well-trained to produce thesis-driven pieces—I was a writing tutor for five years through college and grad school, and I taught Technical Writing and English Composition courses. Theses are the essence of writing…aren’t they?

Well, the presenter (this lovely New Zealand-dwelling Welsh man whose name consists of only two letters) encouraged us to get rid of that model. DK wants us to use audio and movies and pictures and graphics and other people’s content and whatever the hell we feel like writing/using/posting in any given moment. I sat down to try out a more organic blogging experience.

And came to these profound conclusions:

I prefer writing five paragraph essays.
I’ll try out Twitter for a few months.
Welsh accents are pretty awesome.
Sleeping babies are very sweet.
Stouts are imperative to my mental health.
I am not a superhero.

Until the return of my regularly-scheduled, thesis-driven essays, please enjoy this video of Talon and his dad taking a giggle intermission during their daily band practice:

Parenting, Pregnancy

Rebirth

All good stories start with water. With a flow, a rush, a release. So did you. You were made on the sea, in nights full of stars and gently rocking boats. You were made when laughter was simple, and music echoed through it all.

Here is what I want you to know:

There will be laughter and music and light and love. And there will be storms and pests and trials and droughts. Nothing is perfect. Plans change. Life happens when you’re not looking. Read the rest here.

This story appears in Mamalode, where I earn a few nickels for every view. Thanks for supporting my writing.

on the horizon line travel blog tonga island language beaches

Community and Culture, Reflections on Life

Parent For One Week

So, what do you really need to be a parent for a week? Turns out you need a lot less when you’re in Tonga, a tropical island-nation in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Hell, kids don’t even need shoes in Tonga. I discovered this within the first hour of a week-long babysitting gig my husband and I set up here.

As the days wore on, I realized shoes were just the beginning of the long list of things the boys didn’t need … things that were on my list of “what I will probably need to raise a kid” after three decades of living in the United States. We had none of the things on my list. Read more about our week of pseudo-parenting here!