Part 1 is here.
Trigger Warning: Suicidal Thoughts.
As I said, we received bad news at the 20-week anatomy scan in my latest pregnancy, 2017.
I never did get that one complication again, despite what they say is a 90% chance of recurrence in my type of case, but I did have other circumstances combined with my baby's weird organ placement that meant induction again, just in case it meant certain bad things, at 39 weeks.
It was another different experience, though it had more in common with my second induction than my first, so that was good. It went slowly until it didn't AT ALL -- epidurals either speed things up for me, or if it's just coincidence and it was going to speed up anyway, I'm still eternally grateful for the epidural, because I do NOT want to experience 45 minutes from 5 cm to the actual birth without an epidural!
But I digress. :) There was a NICU team there, but our baby was doing so well they decided to let her stay with me overnight and take her down for testing in the NICU in the morning, so that was good. Even though they had us track and report every time she spat up a little, and about how much.
The next few days in the NICU were only a few days, but felt longer. They felt full of inconclusive test results. And a spinal headache. The nurse who put in my IV for the blood patch to treat my spinal blew out a vein, and later I took a sort of fierce satisfaction in how completely awful that bruise looked. It didn't feel that bad, even that initial botched IV was nothing compared to induction or my headache, but it shocked and horrified others and I grinned at pain made visible. You know?
Then home, and the gradual reassurance that our baby really was fine. People brought meals, family came and helped out and I'm eternally grateful, we had a ton of medical appointments and I certainly had some blue moments, but we made it through. Riding the waves of love, joy, exhaustion, overwhelm, grief, invalidating my own experiences...
I didn't exactly feel like I fit in in any group. I knew that NICU parents were more likely to get PPD, but we'd only been in the NICU for a few days, we were able to take our baby home with us, and she wasn't even a preemie, so I didn't feel like we "counted" as "real" NICU parents.
It was autumn, and the biggest flaw of that route was that it didn't have more places to pull over and photograph the arching golden tunnels of leaves.
I internally joked that I had to be careful not to accidentally drive off the road while gaping at all the beauty.
Which brings me to my lowest point.
I was driving my oldest to preschool, and all three of my girls were in the car. I was so miserable, and felt so trapped, I basically started coaching myself to NOT drive off the mountain road. Even though I knew that I wouldn't, most especially with my babies in the car, whom I would never ever hurt, the persistent thought scared me.
On the other hand, at least it made one thing clear: It really had gotten that bad. Even if I couldn't fill out the bubbles on the questionnaires that I spent most of my time feeling sad or hopeless in the last two weeks, apparently I could fill out the bubble at the end that I'd had thoughts of harming myself. Kind of longing thoughts, honestly, wishing that I could.
So. I will also be forever grateful that I already had a great relationship with my therapist and with one of my OBs in particular.
And... That's not the best stopping point, but I wrote as much as I could in the time I had. If you can relate to my story or you're feeling miserable and trapped yourself, please please read this compassionate "Explanation of Suicidal Thinking in Plain Mama English." If you're considering suicide, please tell someone. Tell me (if you have my phone number so you can reach me quickly), call your doctor, or 1-800-273-TALK.
[Part 3 is up now.]
It was another different experience, though it had more in common with my second induction than my first, so that was good. It went slowly until it didn't AT ALL -- epidurals either speed things up for me, or if it's just coincidence and it was going to speed up anyway, I'm still eternally grateful for the epidural, because I do NOT want to experience 45 minutes from 5 cm to the actual birth without an epidural!
But I digress. :) There was a NICU team there, but our baby was doing so well they decided to let her stay with me overnight and take her down for testing in the NICU in the morning, so that was good. Even though they had us track and report every time she spat up a little, and about how much.
The next few days in the NICU were only a few days, but felt longer. They felt full of inconclusive test results. And a spinal headache. The nurse who put in my IV for the blood patch to treat my spinal blew out a vein, and later I took a sort of fierce satisfaction in how completely awful that bruise looked. It didn't feel that bad, even that initial botched IV was nothing compared to induction or my headache, but it shocked and horrified others and I grinned at pain made visible. You know?
 |
| This is not at its worst. Not at all. Unfortunately I didn't take enough pictures of it! :) |
Then home, and the gradual reassurance that our baby really was fine. People brought meals, family came and helped out and I'm eternally grateful, we had a ton of medical appointments and I certainly had some blue moments, but we made it through. Riding the waves of love, joy, exhaustion, overwhelm, grief, invalidating my own experiences...
I didn't exactly feel like I fit in in any group. I knew that NICU parents were more likely to get PPD, but we'd only been in the NICU for a few days, we were able to take our baby home with us, and she wasn't even a preemie, so I didn't feel like we "counted" as "real" NICU parents.
 |
| Biggest baby in the NICU. |
When my oldest sister, Becky, was here helping out, I could feel the difference between a PPD or exhausted rage response and my more normal response to very frustrating almost-five-year-old behavior where, frustrating as it is, I can still be patient and, well, not lose my grip on sanity. (When she was here helping I had the second one, my more normal response.)
So then I questioned, is it "real" PPD when I'm fine as long as I have lots of help?
Spoiler alert: Yes, yes it is.
I thought I didn't have any shame about PPD, that I didn't believe any of the stigma, but depression still lies and it kept telling me that either I didn't really have PPD, it wasn't that bad; or if I did I shouldn't, I ought to be doing better than this, ought to be more grateful for my amazing healthy baby we'd worried about so much, etc. etc. etc.
And it was still more mood swings than a constant low, with some outbursts of anger and rage, still. And yes, a heavy feeling that I just couldn't do the things, everything was too hard, but isn't that normal when you're a new parent of three and you were never all that good at getting things done anyway?
Somewhere in there I started to think about how to schedule an appointment with my therapist, how to get away from the house with three little ones to consider logistically now.
My oldest started preschool shortly after the new baby's birth, and I quickly found the gorgeous drive to be incredibly soothing. No matter how the morning went, I almost always found that I felt better after driving her to preschool, up in the country on a mountainside.
So then I questioned, is it "real" PPD when I'm fine as long as I have lots of help?
Spoiler alert: Yes, yes it is.
I thought I didn't have any shame about PPD, that I didn't believe any of the stigma, but depression still lies and it kept telling me that either I didn't really have PPD, it wasn't that bad; or if I did I shouldn't, I ought to be doing better than this, ought to be more grateful for my amazing healthy baby we'd worried about so much, etc. etc. etc.
And it was still more mood swings than a constant low, with some outbursts of anger and rage, still. And yes, a heavy feeling that I just couldn't do the things, everything was too hard, but isn't that normal when you're a new parent of three and you were never all that good at getting things done anyway?
Somewhere in there I started to think about how to schedule an appointment with my therapist, how to get away from the house with three little ones to consider logistically now.
My oldest started preschool shortly after the new baby's birth, and I quickly found the gorgeous drive to be incredibly soothing. No matter how the morning went, I almost always found that I felt better after driving her to preschool, up in the country on a mountainside.
 |
| After most of the leaves had fallen. On a sub-par curve of road in sub-par light. Seriously, I should've been taking SO many more pictures. |
Which brings me to my lowest point.
I was driving my oldest to preschool, and all three of my girls were in the car. I was so miserable, and felt so trapped, I basically started coaching myself to NOT drive off the mountain road. Even though I knew that I wouldn't, most especially with my babies in the car, whom I would never ever hurt, the persistent thought scared me.
On the other hand, at least it made one thing clear: It really had gotten that bad. Even if I couldn't fill out the bubbles on the questionnaires that I spent most of my time feeling sad or hopeless in the last two weeks, apparently I could fill out the bubble at the end that I'd had thoughts of harming myself. Kind of longing thoughts, honestly, wishing that I could.
So. I will also be forever grateful that I already had a great relationship with my therapist and with one of my OBs in particular.
And... That's not the best stopping point, but I wrote as much as I could in the time I had. If you can relate to my story or you're feeling miserable and trapped yourself, please please read this compassionate "Explanation of Suicidal Thinking in Plain Mama English." If you're considering suicide, please tell someone. Tell me (if you have my phone number so you can reach me quickly), call your doctor, or 1-800-273-TALK.
[Part 3 is up now.]
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