6 weeks mark

By May, I was officially at the six-weeks mark of postpartum. I was really excited because I felt I had survived. My doctor's appointment would happen this week, the baby was still alive, and I had heard that it gets much easier from here on out. I was severely disappointed when I was still unable to sleep. The colic baby would not stop crying and would not sleep which meant I would also not sleep. I would lay down and hear every footstep, breath, car and was consumed by thoughts about the well-being of the baby. 

I read up on Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) and other stories of anxious parents calling their pediatricians with statements like, "my child rolled off our bed and onto the floor and I think he's dead!" I worried about the bath being too hot, cold air freezing the baby, exposure to fluffy pollen, and my milk not being good enough. 

I continued to search for advice, or anything that allowed me to feel less anxious. I labeled my worries as "new mom anxiety." And I promised myself whenever I was with the baby, I would never leave her out of my sight, or trust anyone else, including my husband. I felt alone, exhausted and overwhelmed. I kept hearing in the back of my mind, “what a bundle of joy!” I couldn’t find that statement to be true at all. 

March 2019

The take home period

I had a new life to nourish, feed, and keep alive. I needed and wanted her to be safe and to grow and be happy and healthy. 

I hadn't slept in days, since her brith, and I finally crashed on the couch. My husband had the baby and my mother was on a couch watching TV. I woke up in a whirlwind of emotion, crying out; afraid I had hurt her. I looked across the room and saw my husband holding the baby in his arms and something overcame me. I yelled with tears, anger, and fear at my husband, "Get away! Get the baby away, I can't touch her, I can't be near her, I'm going to hurt her!" 

He talked me down and said she was asleep and I wasn't going to hurt anyone or anything. My mother suggested I go upstairs and try to sleep and reassured me everything was okay. 

I went into bed, with wet tears in my eyes still and a fast heartbeat. I took a few breaths but the babies cry for milk happened very quickly. I heard a soft knock on the door and my mom was holding the baby and she told me the baby needed milk. I finally told myself it was going to be okay and I can feed her. She latched, a rush of relief flooded me and I repeated through tears, "She is so smart. She can do it. She is so smart." 

The following days were filled with nursing, cleaning, changing the baby, researching every squeak she made and trying to sleep. Now I had a life solely dependent on me which made me want to scream and yell and be free again. Before the baby, I was an independent woman. Suddenly I was a mother, everything was new and it was up to me to nurture and protect this new life.

I felt so desperate and helpless throughout those following weeks. She kept spitting up, she would not stop crying. "Why is she so challenging?" I'd wonder what I did wrong, I wondered, "why me?" And then I'd turn to my phone. I'd "google" for answers nonstop, I read about colic and the witching hour and purple cry.

I tried it all, I tried to change my diet, and decided to attempt non-dairy, more water, less sugar, more sugar. I would also try to put her to sleep by rocking the baby, bouncing the baby, and reading about how to sleep train the baby. Anything to get sleep while the constant background noise echoed in my head, "what is wrong with my baby? Why is this so hard?"

Aerosmith and Music

If there was any way of expressing how Perinatal OCD felt for me it would be this song: "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" By Aerosmith. "I could stay awake, just to hear you breathing." I would take these words literally. "I don't want to close my eyes...I don't want to fall asleep..." I would cringe and dread evenings because I knew I'd not be sleeping. 

Delivery

Vail, Colorado

It was not Braxton Hicks, it was the "real deal" and it was happening during a full moon. I blame it on the worm moon that started my contractions. I woke up with a new burst of energy and very sharp alertness. I was officially nesting and quickly started cleaning, organizing, and preparing.

I wanted a natural, non-epidural birth story. I had planned on it being painful and intense. I had spoken to one of my close girlfriends that day who was recalling her recent birth of her son to me. She remembers sitting in her bathtub, squeezing her husbands arm and breathing through her gradual, painful contractions. I was experiencing exactly as expected but multiplied by 10. I had no idea that pain could exist the way it did. I had no idea that my body was capable of childbirth. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. 

I was in our townhome having dinner my mother-in-law had made. Sitting on a yoga ball as my replacement dinner table chair. I started timing my contractions and reminding myself it was going to be painful and it was going to get worse. My husband finally agreed to drive me to the hospital. I felt every bump on the road which I believed added to the sting of each contraction. I gripped the backseat handle in my left hand, and the seatbelt in my right. I looked out the window a few times and saw the full moon. 

With each contraction, I screamed and tried to breathe through the pain. I walked, I yelled, I cried, I needed words of affirmation. I held onto the bed and posts so tightly my hands and arms were insanely sore. I nearly broke my husbands hand. I mainly felt angry with each contraction. I wanted everyone to suffer and feel this pain because I felt so alone at the same time. I had no idea what was coming and fear and anger were the only emotions I could identify at the time. Everything needed to leave my body. The anger, and the food in my system all left with each contraction. Labor is such a small word but holds an immense amount of meaning.

Exhaustion had hit me in all different ways. With no sleep during labor and the contractions had started at 5pm or so, I was ready to just pass out from the pain. I went into the bathtub twice, but was not calmed.

I recall vividly, my final pushing phase, I was fully dilated and the nurse had me hold onto my right knee. I needed to push when she told me to. They asked for the doctor to come into the room and I was pushing. I remember reading that in between contractions, you are completely back to yourself. In between pushes, I turned to my husband and said, "It's happening, it's going to happen, we're going to have a baby. Okay?" His eyes started to squint with tears and I started to cry as well. 

I heard the nurse say, "I see the hair, it's black!" I turned to my husband and asked, "Can you, can you see? You can see the hair?" He kind of shook his head no, and the disappointment was a bit unsettling. The doctor said, yes, push, I see the hair. I said with relief, "Oh good, I'm glad it's not a redhead!" The whole room lit up with smiles and a nurse turned to the doctor and said, "Wow, making jokes during labor!" 

About 20 minutes of pushing, maybe less, and I could feel the baby leave my body. 

Finally, after carrying life inside of my stomach for nine months...I heard a screaming baby. They quickly placed the baby on my chest and I was in shock. My pain was gone, a baby was screaming in my ear the nurses said in between wails coming from the newborn, "like mother, like daughter!" Another nurse asked my husband, "Are you going to tell her the gender?" He looked at me and said, "Oh right, it's a girl."

She was an alien, I thought how odd she looked and how it was also a miracle I gave birth! I survived. I cried and turned to my mom, who had been with me the entire delivery and said, "mom! I had a girl, it's a girl! I had a baby girl!" My mom looked at me with wet eyes and said, "I know honey." 

I had a second degree tare, burning and stiff limbs. A new life of a small, innocent, helpless child was now my responsibility. We had two days in the hospital to try to learn everything possible about keeping this new life alive. My baby was jaundiced and the nurses were not sure if they should let us go home. After some routine light treatments for jaundice, we were able to tuck her into her new car seat and carefully, slowly drive home.