Cute, yes?
It's still one of my favorite family photos of the Circus: she managed to capture everyone's personalities in this moment where they first met Miss E.
It was only a few day later when I started feeling "off".
I've never been one to really suffer with anxiety. Depression, yes. Anxiety, no. The baby blues was what I was expecting, if I was going to struggle with any postpartum anything.
The baby blues was not what I got.
What I got was a crippling fear.
What I got was endless sleepless nights, even though the baby was a good sleeper.
What I got was my own private viewing of disaster films, running through my mind sporadically throughout the day.
What I got was a racing heart rate.
What I got was a feeling of suffocating.
***a disclaimer: I never sought help "officially" from a doctor. I'm married to an OB/GYN, and that means my world is pretty populated with people who could recognize this for what it is...and who could help me through it. I highly, highly, highly recommend seeking help if you find yourself with some of these same symptoms. Not everyone has the safety net in place that I do, postpartum.***
At first, I thought my fear and anxiety was normal. I mean, come on, I went from 3 kids to 6 kids in just under a 2 year period, with the way that Miss R and Miss E's pregnancies and Mr T's adoption ended up. It would be pretty darn normal to have a bumpy adjustment to that kind of thing, I thought. So, yeah, some sleepless nights because I'm worrying about the kids or about life in general....I could totally expect that, I told myself. There was a lot on my plate, and a lot I had to think about. Nothing abnormal here, at all.
But then it became abnormal.
It was crippling - I couldn't figure out how to get from point A to point B on a "normal" day at the Circus, because along that path between points....all I could picture was disaster and kids getting hurt or something really bad happening. I'd be trying to drive Mr T to school, and instead of seeing the road in front of me, I'd see our car, twisted and totaled on the side of the roadway. I'd feel my heart start to race, and be unable to breathe. I'd start to sweat and feel sick to my stomach. My vision would narrow until all I could see was the image from my "mental disaster film" that kept playing over, and over in my mind's eye. This happened dozens of times a day. On a good day.
I couldn't even consider leaving the kids with anyone. Not even my trusted babysitter or family. They'd been with us for years - a good 8 for our sitter! - and knew the kids incredibly well.
But yet I still couldn't do it. Miss E, especially. She went *everywhere* with me - the very thought of leaving her with anyone, sometimes even with Mike, left me panicked.
I was overwhelmed. I was gaining weight. I was getting pretty much no sleep at night. I was losing hair by the handfuls (some of that is normal after having a baby, but this was excessive).
I found myself unable to enjoy life because I was constantly afraid or imagining the worst. I spent more time feeling panicked than feeling happy. I didn't go to community gatherings or to special events. If I tried, I ended up having to leave, because I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't live life normally.
I was too anxious.
I started mentioning it to friends, just a little bit at a time, and only to those closest to me. Those who I thought might have had the same experience. Some had no idea what to do with what I was saying, but a few seemed to understand. I talked to Mike about it - I was just so exhausted and I wasn't the mom I wanted to be. It wouldn't let me be the mom I wanted to be.
We made a plan. I memorized the 5-4-3-2-1 plan (Stop. What are 5 things that I see? What are 4 thing that I feel? What are 3 things that I hear? What are 2 things that I smell? What one thing do I taste?). I started trying to do that every time I felt the claws of anxiety trying to get a grip on me, every time I started feeling like I couldn't breathe, or my vision started to focus in on the horrible visions. As a family, we focused on sleeping routines, and getting Mommy in bed on time. I talked and talked and talked my way through every attack, every fear, every symptom. (Thank you to those of you out there who listened. You know who you are).
Shortly after my cycle returned and balanced itself out, it started to fade. I'd go a day or two without an attack. Then two or three. Then a week. My hormones evened out and slowly, slowly, the light seemed to return in my life.
I had an recurrence after getting sick about 8 months after Miss E was born, and being diagnosed with an aortic aneurysm. The stress of that diagnosis and experience put me back a few months on recovery, but with more tests and knowledge about my condition, I was able to start getting in control of that and fighting back the fear and anxiety again.
I don't want to simplify my story. I don't want to make it seem like it was an easy fix.
It was not easy. It was terrifying. It was crippling. It took away the joy that I expected to feel after having a baby, the joy that I'd felt after every previous baby.
I still loved Miss E. Deeply.
But my brain went on overdrive with that natural feeling of wanting to protect her, wanting to care for her. A natural instinct was amplified. And it deeply affected and interfered with my ability to live life.
PPA is not really talked about in the prenatal books, or the "What to Expect" kinds of books that we all read when pregnant. We don't get little questionnaires in the doctor's office about how we're feeling that are labeled "postpartum anxiety." We know all about postpartum depression (as we should!), but we don't talk about its sneaky little sibling. We don't talk about its alter ego. We should.
If you think you've been dealing with more anxiety than you should be after having a baby, call your doctor. Don't let the monster steal your joy, too. You don't have to let it - your doctor can help you. It doesn't have to mean medication, although that's an option sometimes. Just let him/her know that you think something's off. Ask your partner to watch for PPA as well as PPD, if you're waiting for your baby's arrival.
Let's fight this monster together.
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