Life has definitely thrown challenges my way the last 18 months. I've struggled. I have struggled a lot. I'm extremely hard on myself, and fault myself for the silliest things that are not in my control. I try so hard to be this, "perfect" mom. I've set plans, made goals that are virtually unachievable within the timeframes I set. Depression is real. PTSD comes in many different forms. And... sometimes, you don't realize the hold they can keep on you.
When I was hospitalized due to severe Preeclampsia and severe HELLP syndrome at 31 weeks pregnant, I didn't know what to expect. "They only cure is delivery", said every doctor. I wanted to get to at least 34 weeks. Every week in pregnancy means so much for that unborn perfect baby. I wasn't in control. I'm a control freak, I admit it. I made it to 32 weeks when my body, literally, started shutting down. My kidneys were stressed, my liver wasn't functioning 100%, I was having chest pain and palpitations, my blood pressure couldn't be controlled and I couldn't breathe easy. I was that moment when my oxygen levels dropped, and the alarms for my monitors started going crazy, that I knew I couldn't control this situation and if I waited any longer HELLP would kill me.. but not just me, likely my son too. The surgeon wouldn't allow me to wait any longer.
I can't remember much of anything from my cesarean. I remember struggling to breathe and feeling like I was going to pass out. I remember the feeling the pinching feeling as my stomach was being cut open. I remember the OR nurse constantly touching my shoulder and telling me I needed to stay awake. I remember being so scared my son wasn't going to come out breathing. Lastly, I remember his cries. He was breathing. I saw him for just seconds before he was taken to NICU to be put on oxygen. I was no longer pregnant, but My baby was ripped away without me being able to touch him. I couldn't touch my baby boy.
Two days. I didn't get to see my son for 2 days. I didn't get to hold him for another day after that. I stared at him through an incubator, I held his tiny little hand with one hand, and held my belly with the other because I was so swollen due to still battling HELLP and surgery that my stitches were pulling. I cried every single time I had to walk away from him, every time I had to wait to see him, every time there was a set back and I cried when I was discharged. I cried myself to sleep for 5 weeks. My body failed him. I felt like I had failed him. Everything I envisioned for myself as a mother.. everything I had planned was ripped from me.
Five weeks, it's longer than some NICU stays, and shorter than others. But, a day in NICU can do so much to a mother. I don't do well in hospitals anymore. The beeps of monitors, the smells, babies crying in hospital rooms.. It gives me really bad anxiety. I get heart palpitations. I still have nightmares. I still panic and check on my son in the middle of the night. I'm terrified he's going to stop breathing. I constantly worry something terrible is going to happen to him. It feels like I let my guard down some and something happens.. this kid has been through so much in his short 18 months.
From a minor heart defect that healed itself by a year (Thank God!), to a uterine anomaly and surgery, rehospitalization, random wheezing, seizures, etc.. This boy is so strong.. So much stronger than his mother who isn't dealing very well with the constant curve balls being thrown.
Fresh out of NICU, he wasn't even home for a week, and we had to dial 911. My 6 week old, not even adjusted, 5lb baby was having what appeared to be a seizure. If I hadn't of taken a, "my journey home" class before we left NICU, I might not even had known what to do. I cried. I cried during the entire ambulance ride to the Children's hospital. I cried and begged him to eat when he wouldn't at 12 hours since he last ate. I cried when they said they were admitting him. I cried as I held him. I couldn't sleep. I sat by his crib and stared at him, and stared at his monitors until I passed out from exhaustion for 2 nights. Ruled as reflux, I just felt like it wasn't a correct diagnosis. I didn't fight it.. and I should have. I didn't know I could. He didn't have any more episodes like he did that night, but he would still, "Shiver" and have weird episodes. I assumed it was reflux. I failed him, again.
Fast forward to a year old, his little tremors/ "shiver" like activity are becoming more noticeable. Reflux hasn't been an issue in quite some time. I would notice a random little shake. I didn't think much of it because his behavior never changed after. Fast forward to around 18 months, it's becoming even more noticeable. He's having staring spells where he won't respond to his name or being touched. So, we start trying to get video of it so we can show his pediatrician. I thought I was over reacting a little at first. Then, I heard what sounded like a gasp for air over the baby monitor, followed by absolute quiet. I ran to his room and he was staring blankly across the room. He didn't acknowledge that I had walked in. He wouldn't respond to me talking to him, he wouldn't respond to me gently shaking him. I couldn't feel him breathing. At the moment I was starting to panic, he moved and looked up at me confused. He slowly moved, seemed a little dazed and his breathing was shallow. This isn't normal. Something was wrong. He perked up after a couple minutes and was acting completely fine. I called his Pediatrician, and she advised us to take him straight to Children's for observation. No definitive answers, but we're on a path somewhere. I couldn't help him. I felt like I was failing him.
The ER doc said our next step is figuring out what type of seizures he is having. So, we have neurology appointments coming up. I'm hoping for answers. Every second since hearing that gasp over the monitor, my anxiety has been through the roof. I can't sleep. I can't focus on anything but him. I woke him last night just to check on him. I am constantly checking the monitor and listening for him breathing. I almost climbed in the crib with him. I'm so terrified something is going to happen to him. I feel like I'm going to fail him.
During all of this, I have been failing myself. I have let everything eat and eat at me. I have good days and I have bad days. I feel like I'm starting to get to a good place mentally, and then I have a bad day. PTSD is so commonly known for war, military and first responders. But PTSD entails so much and is very real in the civilian world too, just so often overlooked or ignored. By not having control of this, I'm not only failing myself. I am failing my family; my husband and my son.
I don't talk about it with many people at all. Actually, there's only been a couple people that I've even really went in depth with about it. Every day is a struggle. But, I have to stop ignoring it myself and BE better. These battle scars aren't going to fade, but I have to stop being at war with myself. I'm not that perfect mom that I keep telling myself I NEED to be. I don't have to act like it all the time. I face real challenges, too.
It's ok to show your battle scars.
