I was never one of those girls who grew up always wanting kids, just like I was never one who always dreamed of getting married. But it started when my brother called me Super Bowl Sunday 2009 to tell me his then girlfriend was pregnant. (He hadn't told my parents yet - he was nervous because they weren't married and were young....plus, he was just scared) :) I listened as he told me how they found out, what he was feeling and what they were going to do. When we finally got off the phone with each other I went back out to my husband, then boyfriend, sat down beside him and simply said "I want a baby".
We didn't actually start actively trying for another eight or nine months or so. We weren't married so we stopped around the end of November 2009 because I didn't want to be pregnant at our wedding. My husband proposed December 23, 2009 and February 15th, 2010 I found out I was 6 weeks pregnant. Regardless, seven months later on July 23, we were married in a beautiful Celtic/Irish Handfasting ceremony, big belly and all.
The pregnancy itself was not pretty. I didn't glow (except while sweating in the awful North Carolina heat), I didn't feel sexy, and I sure as hell didn't feel beautiful in any way. Instead, I spent most of the 9 1/2 months bent over the toilet throwing up absolutely everything I ate, I couldn't even keep water down. I developed carpal tunnel, had to wear a maternity belt, was hospitalized for severe hydration and put on Zofran and Promethazine, wore Sea Bands, developed a horrible itching sensation on most of my body as well as PIH which ultimately led to me being induced at 39 weeks.
My little girl, Rayne Teagan, entered this world at 9:19pm September 30th, 2010 and she was beautiful. I wasn't able to hold her until the next morning because we were both running fevers during delivery, but once I was able to I was in awe that this little person was just inside me hours beforehand. We left the hospital 3 days later but her first week of life was actually spent in and back out again for severe jaundice that ended in phototherapy treatment. Around the time she turned a month old, I believe is when the problems started.
At first it was just being anxious when putting her down for the night; my husband works 60-70 hour work weeks doing construction and is up every morning at 5am so I took the night time feedings Sunday night through Thursday and began to develop sleep envy. At 3am I would find myself bawling on the couch for no apparent reason while rocking my daughter to sleep. Then came the irritation over the little things; she'd spit up every feeding, the endless game of Wheel of Formula, she wouldn't sit still while feeding, she wouldn't nap when I wanted her to. I am a very routine and schedule kind of person and having a baby threw that all for a loop.
This went on for 2-3 months before culminating one evening while taking a shower. She had finally gone down for a nap so I snuck in to relax under the hot water. Once I got out, she had already woken up and begun to cry so I stuck her in her bouncer and brought her to the bathroom door so she could see me....which didn't work. As the crying continued I could feel the anger boiling and every inch of my body begin to tense. I began talking loudly and banging on the bathroom door to get her attention. Then it turned to yelling, then screaming, then finally walking away and punching a hole in our bedroom door because I was resisting the urge to go over and shake the bouncer with all my might. When my husband walked through the door that night I simply said "I need help".
I called our local mental health services line and was referred to a local therapist who set up an appointment the next morning. I arrived early, filled out my paperwork and waited anxiously for my name to be called. Once I sat down in the office I actually began to feel foolish. What was I doing here? I didn't have a problem - I was simply over-reacting and tired. But with every new question that was asked of me during this initial visit the therapist got quieter and quieter until finally she put down her pen, took off her glasses and looking me straight in the eye, told me "Well, you have every, and I mean absolutely every sign of an anxiety disorder, except for the panic attacks. And I am very surprised you don't have those". A few weeks later I was also diagnosed with post partum depression and began medication soon after that.
It's been a little over four months since I began this process and I am not ashamed of my diagnosis, just about how long it took me to get help. But with therapy, medication and the love and support of my amazing and understanding family, I'll get through this and become a better woman, person and mother because of it.
