The Bug 2021

Shopping at stores or out in an area with children is great for me and my toddler. However, it also creates a small fear inside of me. A fear around the bug. The germs. The big eww, bacterial green, mucus-like bugs. I never want my baby to be sick. I don't want the restless nights, the fussy child, and the excessive tissues that always end up being used. That being said, it's inevitable. 

My toddler started with a tiny cough and it became a runny nose. Her voice was one pitch lower than usual and sounded scratchy. The fussy, irritable child with no appetite was a challenge these past few weeks. The lack of sleep and big emotions were hitting my patience button hard. 

We are getting through it, taking each day at a time. Yes, I have the impulse to scrub and clean and wipe down everything in sight. I want to make sure each germ is washed away. I also remind myself I have OCD. I will have some minimal and bearable thoughts and behaviors, but I can manage. I continue to label my OCD as a condition, to help others and promote it to the mental health world. 

The famous Frozen film, and popular song, "Let It Go," often is my new background music. It feels like a mental reminder that I can not control everything and I truly must let it go. 

July Twenty Twenty-One

Summer of 2021

We have been working hard to survive this ongoing pandemic. I am doing the best I can in promoting awareness around Postpartum/perinatal OCD and sending along resources to new moms/moms-to-be/mom friends. 

Transitions and change are always difficult. This is why routine is so nice, because predictability is inevitable when you are living in a routine. Whether it's a transition from a Magic Merlin sleep suit, into a crib from a bassinet, a new home, a facing forward carseat, it's all challenging! 

By simply putting a name on my "condition" made it way less scary! Sometimes I feel like, "enough is enough" and very overwhelmed, but I know it's my "OCD" and I am capable of pushing away my intrusive thoughts. My mental health feels more empowered than anything. I feel I have control over so much more now. I have less anxiety. I sleep through the night. I'm enjoying each moment with my husband and silly toddler. 

I have my life back, more or less and I am aware of my OCD. I have my husband who is the most patient and understanding person and my mother who helped reassure me that I truly am "okay." My network of mom friends is always growing and I love connecting with moms of all different backgrounds.

Please reach out to me if you want a new friend!

Intruders

I drove home and started my SSRI the same day I had been seen by the nurse practitioner. My husband and I had put the baby down to sleep and while we were watching TV on the couch, we were both startled by a knock on the door. It was the Psychiatric Emergency Response Team (PERT), asking if I was sane and if I had been hearing anything that seemed outside of reality. The nurse practitioner reported to the team that I was psychotic and may have Postpartum Psychosis. She thought I was planning on killing my baby and made a mandated report to social services.

For weeks we had unwanted visitors including social workers, PERT, therapists, doctors and officers questioning us and asking about our well-being. I felt angry, misunderstood and not validated. It was as if no one was listening, no one was able to hear me. I felt like I was going crazy.

My therapist was contacted by a PERT team member and she asked if I could come in and speak with her. I was hesitant because I had just been interrogated and still angry about the miscommunication. However, I agreed to come. 

When we met, the first thing she did was apologize to me and said she believed I did not have Postpartum depression but something else called Postpartum OCD.

“OCD?" I thought, "like the cleaning disorder?" She continued to explain what Postpartum OCD was. Perinatal OCD is a condition where new moms, pregnant or postpartum, create compulsions around the health and wellness of their newborn.  Often, new moms will have intrusive thoughts, extreme anxiety, and engage in behaviors to reduce their anxiety such as avoidance. A wave of relief and understanding rushed through me. I was so happy to have a name for my condition! 

Therapy

Trigger warning: intrusive thoughts, harm, death

I had a hard time finding a therapist. And I know now how important it is to truly find the perfect therapist, someone you can connect with. I tell friends who seek therapy, it's like Goldilocks, you have to find someone that's not too big or small, but just right! It was a combination of finding someone who would take my specific health insurance, would offer telemed, and would work with my schedule, that of a new mother. 

It was winter and we had celebrated family holidays together in a new city, in our apartment, as a small family of three. My days were filled with reading books, pushing the baby in a stroller on walks, nursing, learning nap schedules, putting baby in her jumper, and going to the grocery store. 

I wanted to find new mom friends, to be able to talk to someone that I could confide in and who would understand me, because I felt so alone. 

My nine month old was now able to sit up on her own and was trying to crawl. I started to worry excessively about her choking, suffocating from a plastic bag, getting sick (vomiting, diarrhea), and her sleeping schedule to be disrupted. My mind would spin with the worrisome thoughts, “was she safe, having good naps, getting enough overall sleep, nursing properly, or learning enough?”

I tried to escape by reading. I received a kindle over the holidays and made use of it right away. I read a psychological thriller that really made me believe I was capable of murder. "Could I ever become a killer because I could relate to the character in the story?" I felt like I was going insane and it seemed like I had hit my breaking point; I was desperate and burned out. 

I found a therapist that I warmed up to. Luckily I was able to do therapy via telemed because everything was extremely hard with a 9 month old. I had a session with the therapist one morning and was retelling her about my recent experience of a scary thought. My thought occurred to me as I was nursing the baby. I would get extremely hot, almost start to sweat, I would shake and then I’d imagine pushing the baby off of me. I’d then grab her and squeeze her neck until her head popped off! I broke down, sharing something so intimate and scary.

As I retold my therapist this thought, she suggested that I contact my doctor and ask about postpartum depression and antidepressants. She wanted me to explain to the scheduler that it was important for me to been seen as soon as possible because I had thoughts of death and suicide. 

I went to my doctor’s office that afternoon but because my doctor was out of town, I was seen by a nurse practitioner. Through tears and shame I retold the nurse about my thought of murder and depression and death. She asked me if I knew these were not normal thoughts and if I knew that murder and death were not appropriate behaviors. I said, “yes of course, I don’t want these thoughts, that’s why I’m here.” She left the room a few times to ask other professionals about postpartum depression and wrote me a script for an antidepressant that was considered safe while breastfeeding. 

Perinatal OCD

My Perinatal OCD story 

by: Allison Livingston

"You're doing a great job, Mom!"

If you're suffering from perinatal OCD and reading this, I want you to know that you are a good mom and you are doing a great job. I know from experience that you are on a difficult journey, but there is hope.  

I welcome you to read my story here: My OCD story 

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.

Pregnancy 2018

My husband and I planned for a baby. We read books and articles, and listened to advice from well-intentioned relatives and friends.

By the time we were both ready to have a child, I had traveled around the world, received two degrees, created a career path that seemed right, and found a partner I loved. We wanted to be a family of three.
I was shocked and thrilled to find out I was pregnant. We had planned on having a baby but never knew when we'd conceive. So, while we were "trying" I was taking extra safety precautions, down to the shampoo bottle; I wanted to make sure no parabens, BPA, phthalates, or other suspect chemicals could affect my body or the child we would conceive. For added insurance, I took prenatal vitamins, fish oil, and vitamin B religiously, prior to conception.

Early in the first trimester, my husband and I spent time in Eastern Europe which was the last trip we would take for a while. While traveling, I quickly learned about the changes that happen in the first trimester. For me, random back pain, a rash and severe nausea came at me fast and hard.
Our thirteenth week pregnant hit hard because we had a horrifying scare. For several hours, I experienced painful cramping and bleeding. I called a nurse on duty at our health care providers office and we concluded I was experiencing a miscarriage. I wept as I pushed through the pain while clenching my heating pad. That weekend I stayed awake, reading about miscarriages and next steps. We had a scheduled appointment that Monday morning, so we waited to be examined that day.
At the doctor's office, the ultrasound moved slowly along my belly and a heartbeat was quickly found. Relieved, I started to cry as my husband explained to the doctor we believed we were miscarrying and were bracing ourselves for bad news. 
I had several baby-showers hosted by dear friends and family members. My heart was full from all of the new mom advice and interesting stories from veteran mothers. 
There were several doctor visits, some more exciting than others. It was not fun having to drink the red juice to test for gestational diabetes, but hearing our baby’s heartbeat was always worth our time. We appreciated a specialist’s reassurance that worrisome test results and random bleeding did not show that there was a serious problem with our baby. I learned that often during pregnancy, there are no concrete answers and in spite of all we know, there is still mystery that comes along with the miracle of birth.
During my third trimester, I was ready to stop working. I would have mini panic attacks before falling asleep. I would lay in bed, half asleep and feel my body tense up and feel like I could not breathe. I would have to frequently remind myself that I was okay, everything would be okay and eventually I would nod off. 
I picked up all of the children’s illnesses at the preschool where I was working, including conjunctivitis, aka pink eye. After that experience, I gave in and decided to take my maternity leave a week early. I was exhausted two days before birth. So much that I couldn't get off of the couch to even take a shower. 
The following day, I had my huge burst of energy and what I believed to be Braxton Hicks again. However, my baby had a different idea!