Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Under the Dome [Part 2]: Fear itself

Trigger warning: The following blog posts are heavy with describing details of Postpartum Depression, Postpartum Anxiety and Postpartum OCD, also including suicidal ideation, intrusive thoughts and various medical procedures/complications during pregnancy and delivery. Please use caution while reading Under the Dome posts if they might trigger you. 

It wasn't until my 28th week that I was finally cleared from all testing following my baby's thickened nuchal fold. They wanted to be prepared when my baby arrived if she ended up needing special care and still warned me that the "reason" may present once she was here.
By the end of the 29th week I went into an anxiety induced preterm labor in which I began to dilate and was taken to Froedtert by ambulance to prepare for a preterm baby who would need a lot of care.

In all the times I had been hospitalized over the years during my pregnancies (which was a few times for each child), no one ever asked me what I was doing prior to my contractions. No one asked me how I was feeling emotionally on any level. Would it had made a difference? I'm not sure... but I would hope it could have.

I eventually got to go home on strict bed rest with the exception of doctor appointments I had to attend 3x weekly. I went from actively working 3 jobs (one full time, two part time) to not even being able to take care of any household chores myself.
It was that time that my anxiety grew from a nagging worry to a full blown constant panic. I spent my days researching how to prevent all things that could kill my baby. I obsessively researched SIDS, sleep accidents, car accidents/car seat safety, common illnesses that could kill newborn and infants, babies being left in a car, postpartum depression and various other things that I would catch from a story or show. I know everyone may do this... but the extent to which I delved into these topics was beyond what I wanted to. My anxiety reared it's ugly head and made me suddenly completely too anxious to have anyone over. A few people offered company or help but I couldn't allow it. I couldn't pinpoint why, but I felt like I was going to internally combust.
It wasn’t who I was. I was normally social with a small group of longtime friends and should have wanted some company in my long hours of sitting in one spot but my mind and body told me otherwise.

7 weeks later, after a sometimes stressful and scary delivery, my daughter was here.
I was IN LOVE. I felt all of those beautiful things people try to describe about how loving your child supersedes any love you’ve ever experienced. 


My anxiety stayed true and strong even in the hospital. One minor fever in my baby and the doctors had me overly paranoid about keeping her as germ free and healthy as I could. Every person who came to visit us made me more and more anxious. I wanted them to lock us in a quarantine. I didn’t even want my own family there. I just wanted to be left alone with my new baby. Love and fear battled inside of me. 

When I went home it was more of the same. My daughter was jaundice and required a UV blanket. Feeding her was a battle that I felt like I was failing and no one was there to tell me otherwise.
I felt immense sadness watching my husband bond with and take care of her. I felt like he was keeping her from me. I felt like he might take her from me. I knew that felt like a irrational thought process but I felt like he hated me and just wanted our baby. 

The days and nights were long. I didn’t cherish the newborn days like people had repeatedly told me to. Instead I wished and prayed for time to fast forward a year or two so she wasn’t so helpless and dependent on me. Maybe if she was older then less could go wrong. Instead of celebrating milestones as she grew, I instead only felt relief that I was closer to her growing up - lessening the chances of things like SIDS. My baby being so helpless and dependent on me was overwhelming.

As the months went on I researched postpartum depression more and more. First once or twice a week and then on a daily basis. I went to doctor appointments with the mindset of answering the postpartum questions honestly, hoping to prompt a discussion from my doctor. I stared at the questionnaire but nothing it asked ever fit me and even when I lied (to prompt discussion), no one ever mentioned my answers or asked about my mood. 

I wasn’t depressed.
I was happy.
I was happy and fear was swallowing me whole.
I hardly slept. 


When I did sleep, I woke up several times in a panic to check on the baby. Fear was keeping me up at night... not my baby who had started sleeping through the night at 6 weeks. I put her to bed and then made sure her things were in pristine condition. If I felt like her bottles on the drying rack may have been contaminated, I rewashed them. If I washed them and still felt anxious then I sterilized them. I washed her clothes and dried them and folded them. If I folded them and set them on something that I then thought might be dirty then I would rewash them and wash a sheet or towel with them that I could then set on the ground to set them on. 

One night, when my daughter was 4 months old, I laid down in bed at 2am to hopefully get some sleep and as I shut my eyes and tried to will my fearful thoughts away I thought "This will never ever stop. I'm always going to be this afraid of losing her."

That thought swallowed me whole.
"I will be fearful my whole life... until I am dead. If I died, I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore."
And with that thought, came peace. And for the first time since I got pregnant, my body relaxed and I fell asleep. 


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