i wanted to dedicate a blog entry to postpartum depression and post traumatic stress disorder. this might be long, so i apologize in advance, but it's important for me to share this experience. i've made this a two part post. here's part 1:
let's start from the beginning, shall we? scott & i met in July of 2009 and even though we were head over heels for each other way before we started dating, we've only been together 11 months. 11 months. for those of you doing the math that means that our son, who was born 1 month early, was conceived the same week scott & i started dating. we found out on father's day (when i was 6 weeks along) and it's been quite the ride ever since (we moved into the house we bought 11 days after finding out about the baby's birth defect). after deciding to keep the baby, coming to terms with the pregnancy, and starting to tell family and friends (i showed really early, so we had to share the news much sooner than anticipated), we got bad news. my AFP levels were high and at 18 weeks we got the diagnosis: gastroschisis. all of a sudden my extremely unplanned pregnancy became high risk. words that you never want to hear were being thrown around: "defect", "terminate", "surgery", "NICU", "life-threatening", "unknown outcome". it was terrifying. we were told that we had until 24 weeks to decide if we wanted to keep the baby, and that while it wasn't recommended that we terminate it was still our decision. we chose not to terminate because we'd already gone through that decision 12 weeks earlier. the 18 weeks that followed seem like a blur now, but it was just a lot of doctors appointments, blood tests, and one therapy session. after meeting with the therapist she said "in less than one year you've started dating your boyfriend, moved in together, gotten pregnant, bought a house, gotten engaged, and found out your baby has a life threatening birth defect and you don't know how he'll do until he's born... i'm surprised by how well you're dealing with all of this". she told me i was doing remarkably well, but i don't think so... i just think i was doing what needed to be done for my unborn baby. he needed me to be strong, so i was. i was expecting to have some kind of baby blues happen after the pregnancy, but i never expected how intense PPD could be.
the NICU was an even bigger blur than my pregnancy was. 27 days of noise, monitors, bright lights, doctors, nurses, IVs, blood tests, and constant round the clock care. i drove down to San Francisco every day that griffin was there. i'd wake up in the morning, get ready, drive down to be with griff, stay until about 4pm, go home, and start the whole thing over again. it was like groundhog day... every day was the same, over and over and over again. i was surprised at how well i handled it. how i could handle seeing my baby puffy from IV fluids and surgery, how i could handle seeing his bowels in a silo, how i could handle not holding him, and having to leave him every day. he needed me to be strong for him and, just like during the pregnancy, i was. i handled it so well. yes there were many tears, but overall i did great. i never anticipated how my PPD would kick in after griffin came home. once griff came home i was a wreck. i was scared that something would happen to him. i hated that the nurses and monitors weren't there to tell me if he was okay. the 3 hour feedings, not sleeping, and being a complete wreck over each and every noise he made was rough. i started to feel like it was a joke, that he would be sent back to the hospital and that he would never come home again. it was too easy. our recovery was too easy. i was waiting for the hard part to kick in. i also noticed that i was pulling away from griffin. i felt so attached to him in the hospital, but once he came home it was almost like he wasn't my baby. i didn't feel as close to him. it's so hard for me to even write these words. i started skipping feeds and having scott bottle feed him in the middle of the night from our breast milk supply in the freezer. i didn't want to change him, bathe him, or clothe him. i didn't want to be around him. i didn't want to console him when he cried. scott stepped up to the plate and completely took care of our little guy. he was great. and i'd breast feed griffin during this, but only because i was supposed to. i didn't feel like it was bringing me closer to my son. scott's parents came to visit when griffin came home and i remember being in the living room with scott, his parents, and my dad and saying "i love griffin but i don't want anything to do with him". it was the strangest feeling ever. this little being that i felt so much love for the minute he came out of me was finally home, and instead of celebrating it i wanted nothing to do with him. i didn't want to leave the house. i didn't want to get ready in the morning. i didn't feel good enough as a mom, as a person, or as a partner. scott and i talked a lot about it, i saw a therapist (again), and talked to my doctor as well. i knew i could manage it, and i definitely have. it's been a slow process, and i'm still not 100% over it, but it is so much better and i finally feel like i'm a good mom. it was so weird to finally have griffin home. i felt relieved, scared, sad and guilty. i felt guilty for having the recovery that gastroschisis moms dream of. i still feel guilty about that. i feel bad for moms who have babies still in the hospital, babies who have needed multiple surgeries, babies who need or have had transplants. i feel bad for being the best case scenario, and i think that contributed to my PPD.
to be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment