A Year Ago

A year ago I attempted to start writing again. A year ago I failed. Maybe it's because life was still a little crazy. Maybe it's because a year ago I fell into darkness. Or maybe it's because a year ago I realized I needed help. If you're confused, that is okay. Let me start from the very beginning.

On March 11, 2015, after suffering some strange sensations for a few days (possibly weeks), I decided to take a pregnancy test. Well as you might remember from one of my previous post (or if you know me personally) I did turn out to be pregnant with our second beautiful daughter. It was not our plan but it was God's plan.

The excitement of having a new baby lasted about a week to a week and a half (I was about 6 weeks pregnant when I found out). I do not remember a lot of my pregnancy with our youngest but I do remember bits and pieces of it. What I am about to share with you has only been shared with a few and only within the last few weeks. Please understand that I am okay now. In fact, the reason I am finally able to share this is that I am in a much better place than I was a year ago. I apologize this is a little long but I feel like its important that you see the whole picture. I hope you stay with me until the end.

Although I don't remember much of my pregnancy one emotion I do remember feeling was hate. I hated being pregnant with our second daughter. I hated everything about the first few months of pregnancy. There was nothing about being pregnant that I enjoyed. And on top of all that I hated feeling that way because I realize how lucky I was to be pregnant.

So from about 8 weeks pregnant until about 16/17 weeks pregnant all I wanted was to not be pregnant. And I don't mean that in the I don't like being sick way, I mean in the I don't want this baby at all way. For 8 weeks, I spent a lot of hours on our living room couch. I don't really remember if I cooked, cleaned, showered, did laundry, or got out much. All I remember was feeling sad, hopeless, worthless, guilty, anxious, and incredibly exhausted. But just when I felt like I had had enough I would have a good day. Like the day that I got to see baby at about 12 weeks. Or the day that I got to see my best friend try on her wedding dress. It was those little moments that kept me from really losing it. I am very thankful for those days.

The summer of 2015 was a little better. We replaced our air conditioner which significantly cooled our house down as well as my hatred towards pregnancy. But the summer also brought a new although less intense emotion. It brought fear.

At 20 weeks, we got to do the full body scan. It was the first time I remember feeling truly excited about the pregnancy. But when our doctor told us that our daughter had a choroid plexus cyst on her brain and that I had partial placental previa, I was afraid. Looking back these were the very reasons why I went from hating my daughter to loving her. Choroid plexus cyst (CPCs) have a very weak association with fetal chromosomal anomalies and are usually gone by 32 weeks. My partial placental previa also was likely to resolve by 28 weeks. However, at 20 weeks pregnant when my doctor shared all this information with us, I was scared because I didn't know the outcome. So for the next 8 weeks I was terrified for my unborn child. I went from wanting her gone to wanting her to be alright. Thankfully at my 28 week check up the ultrasound showed all things to have cleared. I remember feeling so elated.

The remainder of my pregnancy was a roller coaster of emotions. Some days I was so excited about being pregnant; and some days I was anything but happy. I was still having moments where I just wanted her gone. And other days I was calling my mother crying because I felt such guilt over being pregnant during my daughter's second year of life. I definitely had whiplash during those last few months. In the end, my pregnancy with our youngest daughter was one of the hardest things I have ever experience. The second hardest was what followed closely after her birth.

I had a lot of anxiety after the birth of our youngest daughter. I was very afraid to get out and about with both girls in tow. I was especially anxious at night. Our new baby spent the first 6 months of her life in our room because I was terrified she would stop breathing or that someone would steal her away. I also had a lot of anxiety over cleaning and chores. If I did the housecleaning, I would get so lost in what I was doing that I would ignore the girls. Other times I would freeze up because of the mountain of things that needed to be done.

During all of this, I denied that I was experiencing any form of postpartum depression, anxiety or OCD. I mean this should not happen to me. I should be able to cope through all of this because I'm a social worker who has worked in a mental health facility. This couldn't happen to me. I denied that there was something wrong. But I was also embarrassed.

But that changed when I found myself one day, during naptime, throwing my daughters books into her crib with her in it. It is one of those moments that I will never forget. After I put all the books back on her shelf, made sure she was safe, and closed the door, I remember collapsing on our kitchen floor in tears. I immediately called David and asked him to come home. I then immediately called my primary care physician and asked if she could see me. Within the week, I was seeing my primary, a therapist, and talking to my mom to let her know what had been going on.

I went to therapy over the summer of 2016 and learned a lot about myself. I grew as a person and as a mother. I finished the BBM challenge and then joined our local Stroller Strides club a few months later. I've actually broken out of my shell a little and gotten to know some pretty fantastic people. My tribe has helped me out so much these last few months. I can finally talk about the last two years. I don't feel as afraid as I once did. I am beginning to enjoy being a mother again. And I am very thankful to my amazing husband for sticking by me through everything. He has been my rock.

So a year ago I fell into darkness. But now I've climbed out of that darkness. I decided to put this all down on "paper" because I wanted to share my story. Maybe my story will help someone just like a friends essay on depression helped me even if she doesn't know it (Thank you). And in June I am going to take a walk with some pretty awesome women to celebrate our Climb out of Darkness.