So last time I wrote it was October. I'll do an update on our life since then in a while, but tonight I'm just really feeling the need to get this off my chest.
Since I found out I was pregnant in February, I've been having pretty severe anxiety. I have talked to a handful of people about this, including my family and close friends and new doctor, but I just really need to write the words.
Here's the thing.
When you become a mother in this generation you quickly get thrown into a world where everything is analyzed. You see blogs and articles and "research" everywhere about the best way to do everything. From how you should eat/sleep/breathe/exercise during pregnancy to the best birth methods, to the best way to feed your baby, blah blah blah. I know this has probably been beaten to death in the interweb. I keep thinking, "Was my mother CONSTANTLY told everywhere she looked about the best way to do things?"
Anyway. I feel like literally everything I wanted for my first pregnancy and delivery and early newborn stages went completely haywire. But the real culprit of my anxiety was my delivery. Looking back I can see all the ways things went badly. During the middle of it I really was just trying to do my best with very little direction.
My doctor was clearly overworked, tired, and not invested anymore in her patients as she was looking for a new job out of state while working the billions of hours doctors work. When I went into labor it was miserable. I had back labor for days. Back labor, for anyone wondering, is when the baby is facing up towards your belly button, rather than towards your spine. So every time you contract your sacrum gets compressed against their tiny skull. It's excruciating. I hadn't slept in days. When I finally went to the hospital I came in with a fever. No one bothered to wonder why. But my current doctor thinks that I was in false labor with a kidney infection, which is common for me. Obviously being in false labor my body wasn't ready for delivery. But they didn't think to check that as I was already 5 days overdue. So I was admitted and given drugs to help get me dilated, which didn't work. The epidural only worked on half of my body. My oxygen stats were low. Richie's heartbeat kept plumetting... etc. It was just a crapstorm.
So finally when I was told I needed a C-section I had been laboring for about 5 days, was delirious from sleep deprivation and pain I was not feeling good about life. I literally thought I was going to die on the OR table. I was sure of it. I told Justin he HAD to remarry because I couldn't bare the thought of my baby being raised without a mommy. I was angry every time he told me he wasn't going to remarry because I would be fine. I was positive I was going to die. The nursing staff blew me off, the anesthesiologist ignored me, even both OBs laughed at me. So as I laid naked on the OR table in front of all those people, completely vulnerable and beside myself with grief that I was about to die, I listened to the doctors chat about their vacations. I was shaking uncontrollably from the anesthesia and convinced at any moment I would bleed out or go unconscious or something horrible.
Finally I felt a release of pressure off my abdomen and heard everyone tell me how much hair my baby had. Instead of showing me my son, they took him away to the NICU for antibiotics (because of my fever) and wheeled me into a recovery room after stitching me up. Justin went with Richie and the staff left me in the room for TWO hours. The only human contact I received during that time was two texts from Justin with pictures of the baby I had labored so hard for but had never seen.
I realize the way I'm telling this story sounds very victimized and sad... I'm grateful I didn't give birth in the back alley of a third world country or in a field somewhere.... I definitely wouldn't have made it. But the fact is that I have felt extremely traumatized by the experience.
When I saw the positive pregnancy test that I had actually taken as a joke to scare Justin, I had a panic attack. I had to immediately call my sister to calm down. I didn't sleep that night. After I went to see the OB for the first time I cried all the way home. I hadn't slept the night before. I feel like I have a little PTSD from my delivery experience. I had been convinced in that moment that I was going to die and no one listened to me. No one cared or legitimized my fears.
Now I'm facing another C-section and I'm scared to be vulnerable on an OR table. This time around I have a much more caring and concerned OB. My husband has learned a ton from the first experience and now as a nurse he has a better understanding and navigation of the medical world. I have faith that I'll be in better hands this time around.
So here's where I'm at. Every time I hear about natural births and how beautiful they are, or how tub birthing is the best, or how great method XYZ is, I get really angry inside. I want to blame it on other people and their insensitivity. I want to tell them how ridiculous they are being for claiming any one way will work for everyone or how claiming that drugs are bad is ludicrous because some women depend on them to stay alive during delivery. But the fact is, that when I look deeper, I realize I'm disappointed that everything went to badly. I feel let down by the medical staff. I feel like my body failed me. I feel like this moment that was supposed to be beautiful and sacred and embody all the power and divinity of the female body was just a horror show. It's not the women who are proud of their moment and want to share that, it's just me feeling small and like a total failure.
So I guess I'm just trying to be real. We show the highlight reel on Facebook and Instagram. It would be easy to just pretend like I'm super excited for this new baby. Don't get me wrong, another baby is going to be awesome. But I'm terrified for delivery. Thinking about it gets me really worked up. I have nights where I spontaneously cry for hours about it. The other night I started asking Justin questions again about what he saw during the Csection and I burst into tears and couldn't stop crying.
I'm working through these emotional issues and I have a plan for how to process the trauma. But I guess I just wrote this to share my experience outwardly since it's been inside for so long. And also to reach out a little and gain some community support. I need a lot of it. I don't want advice about the best way to handle this or the best plan of action from here. I can figure that out on my own. Sharing your experience with me is fine. I just need to talk about it. That's how I get through these things.
Also, if you did have a wonderful natural birth, I'm not really happy for you, but I know I should be. So congrats. I'm happy that you had the experience you wanted. Just be sensitive to women that aren't as fortunate as you and realize that those that didn't have the experience they wanted are dealing with emotions from that experience that maybe you haven't felt. In the end I guess it doesn't matter how we chose to bring another person into this world as long as everyone is healthy and happy eventually. It's important to be supportive to each other, rather than superior.
Since I found out I was pregnant in February, I've been having pretty severe anxiety. I have talked to a handful of people about this, including my family and close friends and new doctor, but I just really need to write the words.
Here's the thing.
When you become a mother in this generation you quickly get thrown into a world where everything is analyzed. You see blogs and articles and "research" everywhere about the best way to do everything. From how you should eat/sleep/breathe/exercise during pregnancy to the best birth methods, to the best way to feed your baby, blah blah blah. I know this has probably been beaten to death in the interweb. I keep thinking, "Was my mother CONSTANTLY told everywhere she looked about the best way to do things?"
Anyway. I feel like literally everything I wanted for my first pregnancy and delivery and early newborn stages went completely haywire. But the real culprit of my anxiety was my delivery. Looking back I can see all the ways things went badly. During the middle of it I really was just trying to do my best with very little direction.
My doctor was clearly overworked, tired, and not invested anymore in her patients as she was looking for a new job out of state while working the billions of hours doctors work. When I went into labor it was miserable. I had back labor for days. Back labor, for anyone wondering, is when the baby is facing up towards your belly button, rather than towards your spine. So every time you contract your sacrum gets compressed against their tiny skull. It's excruciating. I hadn't slept in days. When I finally went to the hospital I came in with a fever. No one bothered to wonder why. But my current doctor thinks that I was in false labor with a kidney infection, which is common for me. Obviously being in false labor my body wasn't ready for delivery. But they didn't think to check that as I was already 5 days overdue. So I was admitted and given drugs to help get me dilated, which didn't work. The epidural only worked on half of my body. My oxygen stats were low. Richie's heartbeat kept plumetting... etc. It was just a crapstorm.
So finally when I was told I needed a C-section I had been laboring for about 5 days, was delirious from sleep deprivation and pain I was not feeling good about life. I literally thought I was going to die on the OR table. I was sure of it. I told Justin he HAD to remarry because I couldn't bare the thought of my baby being raised without a mommy. I was angry every time he told me he wasn't going to remarry because I would be fine. I was positive I was going to die. The nursing staff blew me off, the anesthesiologist ignored me, even both OBs laughed at me. So as I laid naked on the OR table in front of all those people, completely vulnerable and beside myself with grief that I was about to die, I listened to the doctors chat about their vacations. I was shaking uncontrollably from the anesthesia and convinced at any moment I would bleed out or go unconscious or something horrible.
Finally I felt a release of pressure off my abdomen and heard everyone tell me how much hair my baby had. Instead of showing me my son, they took him away to the NICU for antibiotics (because of my fever) and wheeled me into a recovery room after stitching me up. Justin went with Richie and the staff left me in the room for TWO hours. The only human contact I received during that time was two texts from Justin with pictures of the baby I had labored so hard for but had never seen.
I realize the way I'm telling this story sounds very victimized and sad... I'm grateful I didn't give birth in the back alley of a third world country or in a field somewhere.... I definitely wouldn't have made it. But the fact is that I have felt extremely traumatized by the experience.
When I saw the positive pregnancy test that I had actually taken as a joke to scare Justin, I had a panic attack. I had to immediately call my sister to calm down. I didn't sleep that night. After I went to see the OB for the first time I cried all the way home. I hadn't slept the night before. I feel like I have a little PTSD from my delivery experience. I had been convinced in that moment that I was going to die and no one listened to me. No one cared or legitimized my fears.
Now I'm facing another C-section and I'm scared to be vulnerable on an OR table. This time around I have a much more caring and concerned OB. My husband has learned a ton from the first experience and now as a nurse he has a better understanding and navigation of the medical world. I have faith that I'll be in better hands this time around.
So here's where I'm at. Every time I hear about natural births and how beautiful they are, or how tub birthing is the best, or how great method XYZ is, I get really angry inside. I want to blame it on other people and their insensitivity. I want to tell them how ridiculous they are being for claiming any one way will work for everyone or how claiming that drugs are bad is ludicrous because some women depend on them to stay alive during delivery. But the fact is, that when I look deeper, I realize I'm disappointed that everything went to badly. I feel let down by the medical staff. I feel like my body failed me. I feel like this moment that was supposed to be beautiful and sacred and embody all the power and divinity of the female body was just a horror show. It's not the women who are proud of their moment and want to share that, it's just me feeling small and like a total failure.
So I guess I'm just trying to be real. We show the highlight reel on Facebook and Instagram. It would be easy to just pretend like I'm super excited for this new baby. Don't get me wrong, another baby is going to be awesome. But I'm terrified for delivery. Thinking about it gets me really worked up. I have nights where I spontaneously cry for hours about it. The other night I started asking Justin questions again about what he saw during the Csection and I burst into tears and couldn't stop crying.
I'm working through these emotional issues and I have a plan for how to process the trauma. But I guess I just wrote this to share my experience outwardly since it's been inside for so long. And also to reach out a little and gain some community support. I need a lot of it. I don't want advice about the best way to handle this or the best plan of action from here. I can figure that out on my own. Sharing your experience with me is fine. I just need to talk about it. That's how I get through these things.
Also, if you did have a wonderful natural birth, I'm not really happy for you, but I know I should be. So congrats. I'm happy that you had the experience you wanted. Just be sensitive to women that aren't as fortunate as you and realize that those that didn't have the experience they wanted are dealing with emotions from that experience that maybe you haven't felt. In the end I guess it doesn't matter how we chose to bring another person into this world as long as everyone is healthy and happy eventually. It's important to be supportive to each other, rather than superior.
O
