Any of you who know me in real life or have been following along since my pregnancy with Alex know very well what a hard pregnancy I had with him. Perhaps my story actually starts there then...
Let me back up a minute to give you a little foundation for my pregnancy with Alex:
When I was pregnant with Abigail I went through the typical nausea that most pregnant women have in the first trimester. The encouragement from others was always "it only lasts a little while. You will feel much better soon!" Only it didn't. Week 15 came, and still no relief. Most women feel much better after about 12 weeks (end of first trimester). I pushed on and heard a few rare cries of encouragement from women who also had extended pregnancy nausea. Somewhere after week 17 or 18 I felt some relief. Let's emphasize the word "some" here. My nausea wasn't gone, but manageable. I wouldn't feel sick until about 4PM everyday and even though it was nausea, I could still eat most things with a few really strong aversions to things like onions and garlic. Abigail's pregnancy gave me pretty dibilating sciatic pain in both legs unless I was doing stretches several times a day. My labor with her was almost 30 hours and hard back labor, but in the end all I had prepared for, educated myself on and by the grace of God resulted in a happy healthy baby with an untraumatic birth story (aside from the part where she came out blue and not breathing...but that is another story for another day!).
It was this extended nausea and sciatica that led me to not want another baby for awhile. Of course timing helps....financially we wanted to have a bit more freedom for me to be home a little bit more if we had another baby. So as many of my "pregnancy buddies" who were pregnant right alongside with me during Abigail's pregnancy announced their second pregnancies, I sat and watched. I wasn't discontent. Part of me wished I was ok with the thought of being pregnant again so soon, but I wasn't. I hated being pregnant the first time and wasn't looking forward to doing it a second time. Some may gasp at the words hate and pregnant being in the same sentence, but I am allowed to have feelings, and that is really how I felt, and if I am honest....still feel. The only thing good about pregnancy to me is having a baby at the end. So from point A to point....well Y I guess, sucks. Z is ok....Z = end = getting a baby.
I knew having another baby would happen at some point though so I began to "prepare" for ways I could make a future pregnancy more comfortable. Many friends told me that their chiropractors were amazing at helping with sciatica and nausea during pregnancy. So I sought out chiropractic care in early 2013. I have had some back problems for quite sometime and started seeing relief soon after. I hoped that this would help in pregnancy pains and decrease my nausea too.
Fast forward to August 2013- 2 days before we moved to the Chicago suburbs I found out I was pregnant with Alex. This was planned. We knew we were ready to start trying for baby #2, so we were pretty happy when we found out we were expecting again. I knew some sort of nausea was inevitable. I prepared myself for at least first trimester nausea and to be honest...even a few weeks beyond since that had happened with Abigail. Beyond that, I was hopeful, and lets be honest..."expected" pregnancy to be better this time, because I had done all the "right" things right?
The nausea hit with a vengeance in week 6 just as it had with Abigail's pregnancy. I survived as most first trimester women do on eating to survive, sleeping, and just dealing with nausea and vomiting. End of first trimester came and no relief. Week 17/18 came (my nausea relief point with Abbie) and still no relief. I remember a slight break if you can even call it that in the nausea around week 21 or 22, but the number of food aversions I had and what made me nauseous constantly was so large there really wasn't much of a real break. Most women talk about how second trimester is a wonderful break in pregnancy- you aren't uncomfortable yet. Nausea is gone. You are pretty much pregnant without feeling to pregnant. It's a time to enjoy. Not me.....Week 27, third trimester came...no improvement. What!? God, why are you doing this to me? Why do I feel this way? Why are there so many happy pregnant women? This sucks! Those happy pregnant people...I just want to punch them in the face! This really fricking sucks. And I sat in that...for awhile. I remember somewhere in this part of pregnancy talking to one of my friends from church who also suffers from hyperemesis when pregnant and I asked her "How do you do this?" #1 "How have you done this 3 times?" and #2 "Why do you want to do this again?" She told me that she knows its worth it. In that moment I kind of agreed....sort of :) I asked her how in the world she managed to get through it while having little ones at home when she felt that way, and she responded "I pray...a lot." That was my first moment of hope. I knew it may not get better. I had accepted defeat and lowered my expectations of this pregnancy ever being nausea free and just accepting what is. It didn't make me like it more, but it did make me start to strive toward contentment. The rest of Alex's pregnancy I went in and out of accepting reality with being angry at reality and cycling back and forth...trying to be content, but really just wanting my pregnancy to be over. I kept telling myself it will all be better when this pregnancy is over: my appetite will come back...I can deal with lack of sleep from a newborn, but I can't deal with not even being able to function anymore.
You can probably guess how elated I was that Alex was born when I was 39 weeks pregnant vs Abigail being born at 41 weeks. My birth with Alex was fine- no problems or concerns. Healing was quick as it was with Abbie's. My appetite was almost fully back within 48-72 hours with few if any food aversions left. Alex was a great nurser- something I was a little anxious about since I did successfully nurse Abbie, but we struggled a lot initially.
Something happened shortly after we got home with Alex though. I can't pinpoint the exact moment. All I know is with Abbie we had low expectations- we expected sleep deprivation, and our world being turned upside down. With Alex...we were like "we've got this...we've done it once. Abbie meshed pretty easily into our lives so this baby will too." Somewhere shortly after that thought we realized that this baby didn't mesh quite as well. He cried....not colicky cry, but he cried enough and was inconsolable for longer periods of time a day. If you met Abbie's 3 basic needs as a baby she was content- hungry? Check. Wet? Changed diaper- check. Sleep? Take a nap....that's it. She rarely cried. She was always full of smiles and very independent. We did struggle with breastfeeding some, but she eventually got it and it was smooth sailing from there. Alex....I didn't know what he wanted....I would check the 3 obvious needs- hungry, wet, sleepy and he would still cry...and cry and cry. I would be at my wits end by the time Dave got home from work and hand him off and Dave would literally take him, sit on the couch, pat his back like 5 times and say I can't handle him and just hand him back.....that was rough. I literally felt so alone. I wanted to smack Dave. Scream at him and say "Can't you see that I need you right now!!" but what could I do....
I pressed on. Dave continued to seem emotionally distant. I eventually got to a point where I gave up. Not gave up on Dave entirely, I just internally said "I cannot deal with helping support Dave through this emotionally right now. Someone has to take care of the kids, and I can't handle supporting anyone else emotionally right now or I am going to fall apart. So I left him to himself and muddled through. I rhythmically changed diapers. I forced smiles and coos. I nursed Alex without emotion. Where was that soft mama's heart that comes when her babies cries beg for her? Why didn't I care to pick him up and console him and let love shine through my tears of frustration? I felt nothing....nothing but duty. Nothing but hard. This little being....the baby who was supposed to be born and help me feel so much better in a non pregnant state was tearing down my marriage, was breaking me....every last piece of me and bringing me literally to the floor in tears begging God for strength to get through another day. I remember calling my mom friends from church in tears and saying things like "I don't care what we do, or where we are going today, but I need out. I can't do this by myself today!" It was those girls and my faith that got me through.
Somewhere around 6 months of age I started to see some improvement in Alex's demeanor and behavior. It also may very well be the same time period that I just completely let go. I lowered my expectations. I started accepting Alex as Alex. Accepting that this is who he is.
I still continued to hold my breath though. Before this, whenever I would start to get my hopes up that he was improving, we would have 3 good nights and 10 horrible ones. It started to feel not worth it to hope at all, but just accept whatever was as what was and let go of the rest.
Somewhere around when Alex turned 7 month's old I started to "feel" it. Love. Love for him. Love that he was my son. Love in my actions toward him, not just actions full of duty. Love for him entirely and my heart began to swell. I started feeling feelings of attachment and bonding and this "normal" feeling I felt I should have felt when he was a week old...it finally came.
I mourned too. Not a lot, but enough to accept the time I felt I had lost, but also recognizing that I was doing the best I could. I noticed it in Dave too. Love. A love not out of duty finally came for him too. Satan has since tried to attack me with feeling somewhat guilty of this lost time, but I can't do anything about it. All I can accept it for is what it was and that's it. I didn't do it on purpose. I cannot help how I felt.
Did I have diagnosed postpartum depression/anxiety? No. I don't entirely think it was, but my job as a doula actually aided in helping myself process what was going on. I learned that I was really high risk for getting a postpartum mood disorder- Type A, thyroid disease, perfectionist, high expectations....
I also learned that one of the best ways to help prevent and keep yourself out of a postpartum mood disorders is by having support- friends to talk to, moms groups to be a part of, someone to help take care of you and your home (light cleaning, cooking, etc).
And something that came as a shock to me- husbands/father's can go through their own version of a postpartum mood disorder, which very well could have been what Dave was dealing with.
Here is some more information on postpartum mood disorders that is really helpful if you want more information:
http://psychotherapy.com/mom.html
If you think you maybe at risk don't hesitate to ask for help . Tell your provider. Reach out to your friends, and ask for help, and if you know someone who just had a baby make sure you check in on them, and don't just say "Let me know if you need anything." Say, I would like to ___________ (bring you a meal, babysit your older child, come clean your house so you can nap when baby naps, etc). Us type A's don't like to ask for help. Nor will we. The only way anyone would have been allowed to help me in that period was if they forcibly told me to sit down and that they were going to do X, Y, and Z. My cries for help to my friends came when I felt like I was at the bottom of the pit. That's what's hard about postpartum mood disorders. People don't talk about it. People don't acknowledge it as real. You don't even always know you are going through it while you are in the middle of it. It's real. Very real, and when left untreated or without support can spiral out of control with sometimes fatal results.
The American Psychological Association states the following:
Do you realize how many women that is and how few will actually talk about it? How many of us are undiagnosed and trying our best to muddle through?
Moms need help. Moms need support. Most importantly they need to know that they aren't alone.
Something I've learned over the years, and especially through all of this, is that I am closest to my Savior when I recognize the depth of my own limitations without His strength to get me through. And for that...I am thankful for the depth of the struggle. For it's in the deepest valleys that I feel Him closest to me.
I can't change the past, but I can help educate and support other moms so that they too know it's ok to feel this way, and that they aren't alone in the process.
To the mamas who feel so alone in the day to day.....dear friends you aren't alone! Keep pressing on, and don't be afraid to ask for help. In fact if any of the above sounds familiar...tell someone. You don't have to walk through this alone! Let God be your strength.
And don't forget, you aren't a bad mom either if you feel like your love is coming out of duty.
Blessings,
