motherhood-as-ellie-blog

[motherhood-as-ellie-blog]

And now:

And now I’m writing this firstly because I want to remember this. Yes, that sounds crazy, but I do want to remember this. I want to remember every step of this journey so when I get better, I can share with other women that it is possible to defeat this. That it is possible to get better. I don’t know where I am in the stage of getting better right now, but I need to believe it.

As of right now I have severe anxiety and OCD. It all started one day a few weeks ago when I was in the car with my sister. I realized that I could die. And when I say die, I mean I could die at any second and leave my son and husband and that thought scares me to death. It has become so overwhelming thinking these thoughts every single day. Every single day. My therapist has been teaching me to say “these are just thoughts” but sometimes the thoughts become so powerful that I can’t defeat them. I think about the most horrible ways. I keep on thinking there is going to be a mass shooting wherever I am. I am scared that someone is going to come in and rob us and shoot us. Those are my main two thoughts. Oh and a bloody car accident. These thoughts roll through my mind all day every day. And they become so exhausting but I am trying to make it through. It has gotten to the point where I have social anxiety now - agoraphobia. I hate going out anywhere and I start having the symptoms of panic attacks because I am so scared of going out. This is where I am now and it is absolutely awful. And then the OCD contributes to the anxiety. 

So today. Today is an even day. I don’t wish for good days anymore and I don’t force them because I’m not sure they can come and I don’t want to beat myself up when they don’t come. So far today I am having an even day. A day where I am not feeling the anxiety but I am having the OCD. And I am shoving them away by saying “these are just thoughts. They are not facts.” But the thoughts are coming up every hour, every half hour, every fifteen minutes. This is my brain right now and I don’t know what to do right now.

I want to go up on my prozac but my psychiatrist is being resistant because of my bipolar disorder. But I don’t think I can continue living like this. So this is my day so far today. And I don’t know if I ever will be free of this but I have to have hope. That’s all I really have.

For anyone else going through this, you are not alone.

[motherhood-as-ellie-blog]

The Signs pt 2 - PPDA

And now I was a new mom. Who’s first reaction to birth was heartbroken. I wasn’t able to have anything on my birth plan thus far. No natural birth. No skin to skin immediately after birth. The first person to hold my baby wasn’t me. When I was finally able to touch my head to my son’s I felt this relief and the tears of happiness that I read about so many times finally happened. But as soon as he came he was whisked away with my husband following and I was alone as I was being stitched back up, my arms aching to hold my little one. I was wheeled into recovery and finally an hour later my son was brought close to me. I felt his skin on mine and I felt scared and unsure and completely unprepared for so much closeness, but it’s what I craved so bad. He latched on and I felt extremely uncomfortable. I read so much about breastfeeding and how it was absolutely awesome and wonderful and every mom should breastfeed no matter what! But I felt so weird and it hurt. But this is what I wanted right away after he was born. And I was getting it an hour later. And then I started receiving instructions. “He has to be fed every two hours no matter what. If his blood sugar gets low we have to keep him in NICU and you only get three chances before he’s taken away. He has to be burped or else he’s going to spit up. If his diaper gets too wet he’s going to get a diaper rash.” I felt so overwhelmed and I didn’t know what to do.

Now here I was, finally in my room with a napping, full baby and my mind was racing with a million thoughts. I was awake for 24 hours and I was more wired than ever. My husband was across the room sleeping peacefully and here I was, wired, my hands itching to write down every little thing. I was extremely tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep. That should have been a huge sign to the nurses that I was falling into post partum depression. So there I was, awake as can be, worried about missing the next feeding. I was staring at the clock counting down the minutes until it was exactly two hours since his last feeding so I could pick him up and put him to my boob again.

The clock struck the hour and I woke my husband up and asked him to hand the baby to me. I held my precious bundle and put him to my breast and he wouldn’t latch. At all. I started panicking. He was latching perfectly earlier! What happened between then and now? Oh god, if he doesn’t eat they are going to take him away and he has to stay in NICU. I can’t lose my baby! What is going on? I was in full on panic mode. I felt like my heart was going to burst. I ringed the nurse and asked her to please help me breastfeed. She came in and positioned him and he started suckling a little but not as much as she would have liked. She recommended supplementing with formula and out of the fear of losing my son I agreed. That was another thing off my birth plan - exclusively breastfeeding.

I felt like I was losing everything I wanted for my birth and post partum. I was supposed to feel overjoyed but all I felt was despair. Don’t get me wrong, I was in love with my baby. Madly in love. But everything was so overwhelming and I was a bundle of anxiety and depression. And I felt guilty for feeling that way and I held it to myself. How could I tell my husband that on the happiest day of our lives so far that I was a bundle of heart ache and anxiety?

[motherhood-as-ellie-blog]

The Signs pt 1 - PPDA

My son came to me as a surprise. I was expecting a Christmas baby - the perfect baby all wrapped up and handed to me as a holiday gift. But instead three days after Thanksgiving, three days after my last bumpie, my son decided to give me the ultimate surprise present and came as a November baby. To be honest I felt weird that whole day, like my body knew that he was coming but I ignored the strange emotions I was having all morning and night. I was more irritable than usual. I was for some reason checking to see if my mucous plug was breaking apart. I don’t know why I was doing that considering I was only 36 weeks pregnant, but I was checking every time I peed. I felt so off and weird. Weird is the only way to describe it. But back to the story. 

I was in bed, it was 11PM, I was winding down getting ready to fall asleep, and then POP. I literally heard a POP as my water broke. I started yelling for my husband. “Bryan! Bryan!” The water was coming out non stop. I stood up and the water kept on coming and coming and coming. My husband ran into the guest room that I was in for the night (I had issues sleeping with my husband while pregnant. It was so uncomfortable!). He saw my water and started freaking out. “Oh my god! It’s happening!” After a minute he got his shit together and started going through the plan. He grabbed the hospital bag that was barely packed and I threw last minute things into it. We kissed the animals and we were off.

We got to the hospital and were immediately put into a room. I changed and it came time for the dilation check. “The baby is breech!” the nurse yelled. “WHAT?” I was completely shocked. “There is no way!” At the 32 week ultrasound he was head down! How could this be? “I feel grasping,” the nurse said. “Let’s have an ultrasound,” she suggested. And lo and behold, my son was on the screen head down but he was attempting to come out hand first. That was the first thing off my birth plan - no epidural. The OB suggested I have an epidural so he could go in and move the baby’s hand. I agreed this was the best plan. An hour later I had my epidural and the nurse came in to check my dilation again. 

“You’re at 7 centimeters and I feel the cord.”

My heart stopped. I knew what this meant. I was going to have a c-section. “You’re going to have a c-section,” the nurse said. I felt my heart breaking but I knew there was no other way. We briefly went over the procedure when it came to an umbilical prolapse at the birthing class but for a split second because the birthing instructor told us it was very rare. Less than 1%. I let out a deep breath and nodded. It all happened so fast. 

I was whisked away and long story short, he came. My perfect little boy came into the world at 6lbs 7oz at 36 weeks. He was perfect then, and he is perfect now. Another thing off my birth plan that didn’t happen - no epidural, natural birth, and now immediate skin to skin. I was crying as they took him away to be weighed and given his medical treatment, not because I was happy he was born, but because I felt a loss. My baby was born. He was alive, but I wasn’t holding him. I wasn’t able to bond with him. I wasn’t the first person to hold him and tell him how perfect he was. I wasn’t able to count his fingers and toes right away.

It wasn’t magical. It was sad.

When I finally got to meet him for the first time he was already bundled up and I was only able to put our heads together. And it hurt. It hurt so bad.