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My heart is heavy with this subject. I've been pondering it for weeks. I've been wanting to blog about it for some time, but I just haven't had the gumption to do it yet. But I need to get it out. It's eating me up inside.
Post labor with NadiaIt seems that my life took a swing, a twist, got bunched up the day Nadia was born. I had had 20 hours of hard labor, a placenta that fell to pieces and the dr had to manually get out and I believe I hemorrhaged. My bp was 80/50. I was seeing the visual aura I usually see before a migraine off and on for about 24 hours after she was born. It was bad. I plummeted, physically, mentally. I hit rock bottom. And I had a newborn to care for. I believe the PPD hit me before I left the hospital. I did not feel like myself at all, no baby-lovely feeling time ever. I struggled to feel something for her. To this day I am ashamed to say that. I didn't feel like myself until she turned a year old.
I used to tell myself that I loved her because I cared for her needs, but I didn't feel anything. I hated that. I felt horrible about it. And I felt alone. I felt so alone I thought I was going to implode. The anxiety, the fear, the sadness and the loneliness were so crushing.
The time after I have a baby is so surreal. I feel sort of lightheaded, like everything is swirling around me and I'm just kinda there. I hate that.
The way Nadia and I's relationship started has bled into our relationship today. I still struggle with feeling close to her, with having a bond. I have to work at it. I love her, I do. But it's not like I see with other mothers and their children.
Post labor with RhysIt took time for the Zoloft to kick in. During that time I can remember the anxiety, the fear. I remember sitting in Rhys' chair in his room holding him and bawling. I remember Nadia standing tentatively behind the door frame, scared, asking what was wrong. How do you explain depression to a toddler? I remember wanting to hurt my children. Oh I am so ashamed to say that. My precious, precious babies. I can remember fantasizing on hurting myself. I remember thinking that my family, my husband would be better off without a lunatic wife to have to worry about. I believe the hand of God stayed me. He carried me through the first time and He carried me through the second time. Oh I was on drugs and I believe He used that to help me. But it was Him.
I will never forget the crushing fear and the overwhelming loneliness that comes with this. It was bad with Nadia and it got worse with Rhys. From what I read it does that. It's for this reason we have decided we are done. And for that reason I grieve. Oh I don't want to be pregnant again. I live in fear monthly that just 'one' broke through. I don't breathe again until I start. I suppose being done would be easier to accept if I had known Rhys would have been my last when I was pregnant with him. This decision came out of necessity. My children's dr and a good friend of mine both say I probably had Postpartum Psychosis. What would happen next time? Maybe I'd end up in the hospital. Maybe I'd be dead. I read up a lot on Andrea Yates. When she did this to her children I was younger and thought, along with alot of other people, how could she do this? Now, I see how she could do this. She wasn't in her right mind. She was sick. For the first time in my life I've made a decision based on a limitation. I feel like PPD has won. Perhaps that's why I grieve.
This weighs so heavily on me. I feel cheated. I feel like something I was supposed to have was taken from me. Now my relationship with my daughter is tainted because of it and I hate that. I just weaned off my meds and I'm glad for that. Rhys will be one in a month and I feel good. Probably better than I've ever felt in my life. Healthy in body and mind. But I am still sad. So sad over this. I suppose this is therapy. Thanks for listening.
