How do you explain to a 3 year old?

My little man has started to notice that his Mummy can become despondent at times and can be too tired or sad to play no matter how much she tries. He has began asking questions and I’ve spent some weeks ignoring the inquiries and distracting him to protect him. This then means he thinks mummy chooses not to play sometimes or mummy chooses to be lazy which is not the case. The days in which I know I haven’t got anything planned it feels as if my mind switched off and I can be an empty husk of a person. So before I started with my therapist I did the most logical thing possible which was to jam pack my weeks with events and plans, this led to OCD tendencies and weakened my standing to sit with my emotions for extended periods of time. alternate with activities of avoidance all day to spending my time lying all but comatose disassociating from anything but a newsfeed or social media timeline. Then a conversation with an amazing friend today put my mindset in focus so that when the inevitable emotional tsunami hit late at night as it so regularly does and Charlie asked why mummy was sad I had the courage and perspective to say “sometimes mummy gets sad and tired because her heart and her head get cross with one another and unlike how when we get cross we take a deep breath and count to 10 and keep doing it until we are calm Mummies heart doesn’t know how to count so they don’t talk things through. Mummy doesn’t like it when this happens and it means mummy cant play even if her heart wants her to because her head doesn’t want too.” I am actually quite proud of this Charlie has a better understanding that sometimes it’s not a choice for me to make and my body doesn’t know what to do or what it wants and it can come on as quickly as one momentary intrusive unsettling thought that in the past I would have shrugged away. It’s not a choice I have a say in, the decision has been made in those moments and no matter how hard I try to fight against that current I end up getting dragged down a lot of the time. I want to protect him but I also want to arm him with the best tool kit possible for dealing with emotions, trauma, stress because we are all one bad moment away from mental instability and it needs to be the norm to talk about it.

My experience with anxiety is that I am trying to come to terms with every possible outcome of every possible situation so I can minimise any damaging or hurtful impact because I have an issues with loss. Whether that is loss of control or loss of a person or relationship.

My experience with depression is that actually what my ignorance deemed as depression before this hit was complete and utter bull. Low mood and depression can sneak up on you with no warning. It can be that at times things that used to bring you joy don’t have the same impact. It can be feeling like you are not present or real. It can be feeling everything and nothing at once. It can be loosing or gaining appetite.

My experience with OCD is that it’s not just having to turn lights on and off a certain number of times. It is looking at patterns to an unhealthy amount. It’s noticing that on one particular day of a female cycle you felt certain symptoms 2 months in a row therefore you make it happen the third time. It’s refusing to wear something because you had an anxiety attack last time you wore it and therefore it is now cursed to make it happen again which of course it does when you build the courage up to do it because you expect it.

My experience with PTSD is that it’s not just flashbacks the way you visualise it to be when someone mentions the word. A smell, texture, taste or sound can throw you right back into the same emotional response as what you had in a moment of pure distress where your entire personal situation has the power to destroy you whether physical mental or emotional. Its irrational but rational at the same time. It’s a constant fight, flight or freeze mentality. It’s exhaustion and pain in every possible way yet is numbing.

So yes…Anxiety, depression, borderline OCD and PTSD are a part of me but they don’t define me and I will be damned if they stop me.

The one I forgot to name

It’s been more than a month now since I last felt any semblance of healthy. I felt the best I had in that time yesterday morning but today is a different story. I feel like a drama queen and I hate that especially when I see others inflicted with the same infection as I have had being more resilient and high functioning but the truth of the matter is this has laid me on my ass.

It’s difficult when your mind and body run at different speeds but when your average speed has decreased due to bouts of ill health then it paves the way for the demons to fight their way through. Yet again a Visual blip when waking which I don’t know if fabricated through a tired mind or not caused a full blown spiral. The fear of having my 3rd ocular migraine in 2 weeks loomed and I have spent the day in Pyjamas and under the duvet. Today being the second day in the last month in which I have been solo whilst looking after the cub so I’m guessing it’s all probably stress related and actually the best thing for me to do is to return to work and gain as much of a routine as possible for normality to be reintroduced.

After spending a good hour lying in bed with Charlie he became restless and wanted to go downstairs. At one moment after a very brief doze on the sofa I was awoken with a kiss from my cub on my head who wanted a drink and I began to feel a little better but as the day has progressed so has the constant searching for symptoms. It is taking every ounce of CBT control to try to minimise the fallout of being so poorly. Some doctors have not helped and have fed into the fear by ordering more and more tests and throwing up complications or poorly worded reasoning behind treatments.

I haven’t had therapy in over 4 weeks and the next time I go will be to participate in a guided tour of the rooms in which I received treatment or care during labour and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t petrified.

I guess after isolation for so long and only really speaking to family and one or two friends as well as living in a constant fear bubble of having to take temperatures and clock watch for symptoms, side affects and medicines I have found myself in low mood and high anxiety and wishing my cheeky charming son could see his mummy at full shine.

When your heart breaks

So tonight I fought everything and was truly present for my little cub. We had a blanket fort which Charlie said was his moon base. He gave me a grand tour of his new home, the kitchens (yes there were 2!) the bedroom and living room. We also played in the bath it was a lovely evening with lots of giggles but now it’s not. After sleeping for 30 mins he is up inconsolably crying, something is wrong and I don’t know what. He has a small temperature and a few sniffles. I lay in his bed with him in my eyes rocking backwards and forwards for what felt like an eternity… We tried to set up camp in mummy and daddies bed… we have resorted to blanket burritos on the sofas. Daddy has granted me a brief reprieve to attempt to ground myself before I spiral with fear yet again that my bear is poorly with more than just a cold. It was to be expected he is about to enter his second week of nursery so a new immune system will take more knocks but seeing as how his last illness just over a month ago resulted in a febrile seizure I am petrified.

We spend so long talking about the joys of having children and how amazing they are teamed with how tired you will be. But no one discusses the fear… the anxiety that all caring parents feel. Why have we evolved such complicated emotional bonds that last our entire lifespans? Elephants are similar and will mourn for their passed kin but do they feel the same fear of protecting their young or is it all for one? My little man most probably has a cold yet I have cried tonight out of fear and out of empathy that my little human is suffering and is unable to tell me exactly why between sobs. I’m sure every parent has had a moment where they are stood in the doorway watching their sleeping offspring lying so still and think “dear god let you be breathing?” Watching like a hawk for a rhythmic rise and fall of a chest or the sweet soulful sound of a high pitch squeak or snore because for a moment you fear that your world will shift off its axis and come crashing around you. It’s a complicated and exhaustive range of emotions. You want to do what’s best for your child and I’ve witnessed first hand that no matter their age that doesn’t change. Writing these blogs have allowed me to become more open with my parents and I see my mums heartbreak erupt with the overflowing tears when I tell her when I’m struggling. When talking not so long ago I became emotional… what a surprise and as a person who wear their heart on their sleeve I saw her eyes became glossy and 5 words brought a tidal wave of emotions out of me. At the age of 32 she said “you are still my baby girl.” And I’m guessing she felt the same as I do now witnessing your child in pain and discomfort with not knowing how to fix it.

Feel lonely

The past 2 nights when everyone has gone to bed I have been caught up in a tsunami of low mood, grief, anger and fear.

I am exhausted and want nothing more than to feel lighter, looser and not so lonely. Now this is stupid because I have an incredibly large support network but what do you do when they all have plans or are busy. Before being a mum I would have just gone back to bed And that’s what I wanted. I love my little cub to bits however it is so hard when I want to lie in a dark room because I’ve been so tense I have a migraine or I’m sensitive to loud noises and lights that is obviously not on the to do list of a nearly 3 year old.

Right now I am incredibly triggered and wish it was raining so I could hide away in my caravan both to hear and feel the vibrations of the pitter patter. Allowing its rhythmic beat to relax and ground myself.

5 minutes of rereading the above text leaves me conflicted as to whether to post or not for fear of upsetting people who have been trying their best to support me throughout this battle, I don’t want them to despair over circumstances or have guilt for not being around and that in a nutshell is anxiety wanting relief, verbalising thoughts, threats, fears and over analysis of every and all possible outcomes. Creating mountains out of molehills, hearing hooves and thinking zebras before horses, knowing just how deep of a low mode you can go and fear that something you say to those you care so deeply for could have a similar affect on them.

Here again

All it takes is one stupid little moment where something happens and I’m in full blown spiral. One intrusive parasitic thought nestles its way into my consciousness and it feels like the plug has been pulled and there is an evergrowing black hole appearing in my stomach. I’m now lying in bed having tried usual grounding techniques attempting to stay afloat but like clockwork the usual symptoms march in like some parade. Nerves, dizziness, headache, feeling sick, IBS, chest pain. All while I am desperate to sleep, listening to my husband snoring away, knowing it’s at least a few hours away right now. I hate this… I have had an amazing night with my family where I really felt like me and I have come crashing down and I fear that every time I feel genuine happiness something will come and smack me right back down to the point that sometimes I feel fearful of actually feeling true joy. I am fundamentally broken.

It’s time to share my story – trigger warning.

So I am a number of weeks into my EMDR therapy and feel much calmer to write my story than I ever have before. Don’t get me wrong my heart is racing right now and my palms are sweaty but I feel having a clear perception written down allows me to acknowledge just how far I have come. My story is much like others I have spoken too and shall be used in part of a maternity service review in the local area due to the mistreatments in my case. I’m not casting any aspersions into all maternity services as they did deliver my boy into the world and that would not have happened without intervention but it’s important for families to share their journeys.

I was 2 weeks overdue and had just had my second sweep to try and kickstart labour. For some reason I really didn’t take to the midwife that did it and before even covering my decency I was in tears on the bed, I was in pain, uncomfortable and overwhelmed. She brushed it all off and rushed me out of the door. I was struggling to get around at this point due to SPD but managed to spend a few hours on the birthing ball at home.

By midnight I was feeling some contractions so had called the MLU and was told the usual advise of wait until you can no longer talk through contractions and call us when they are 5 minutes apart. I called my mum and sister to update them and within 20 mins I was back on the phone with the midwife and on my way to hospital. Upon arrival I was taken into the birthing pool room upon my request. I had a trainee midwife and her trainer, they were lovely and calming trying to make small talk and I can still hear the advice of imagine you are blowing up a balloon with your pain then blow it away. The trainee was very excited as Charlie would have been her 8th birth and everything had accelerated as if this was going to be a quick process. My contraction became what they described as rolling meaning I had at most 30 seconds off in between but I didn’t feel the need to have gas and air until about 5 hours into the process.

This is when my story becomes a bit more graphic. Gas and air made me violently sick as well as causing me to bleed a little into the bath meaning I had to get out as it was no longer sanitary. I managed until about 7am without any pain relief but had become exhausted so I opted for pethidine. I was moved into a different room and because I didn’t want to give birth lying on my back as in my opinion it’s unnatural biologically speaking this room had no bed but bean bags and birthing balls. I am vaguely aware of floating in and out of consciousness when a shift change over happened and my lovely midwives finished their shift and who walks into my room but the midwife from the previous day. She sits in the corner of the room with my purple book and doesn’t talk… like at all.

By 1pm I am told I need to try and eat and my jug of water is refilled again. The pain in my lower back is horrific and I had to have a second shot of pethidine meaning the only remaining painkiller available to me is gas and air or an epidural. The pethidine had no affect at all but the midwife decides that to speed up the process she will burst my waters. I’m on my back on a mat on the floor and she tells me that I need to keep still my waters burst and she speeds out of the room. The next thing I know there is hospital porters and a bed wheeled into the room. I’m still lying on the floor and I’m told that I have passed a substantial blood clot and I need to be looked after by a consultant at this point I have had 12 hours of rolling contractions and had little chance or strength to stand up. My hubby tried his hardest to get me up off the floor as the midwife shouts at me that I need to hurry up as I’m wasting hospital time as I’m pleading with her that I’m trying but I can’t get up from lying flat on the floor. Sometime passes and I remember being curled on the bed in the fetal position as Jon runs behind us with the bags. I was being moved from one side of the hospital to the other but passed the main visitors entrance during visitation hours. At my most vulnerable moment I am in some circus of horrors position as everyone I passed looked on at the woman clearly in labour.

When we arrived at the ward a new midwife took over. She was amazing! I had shrunk in dilation by 2cms apparently which was incredibly upsetting to hear as I felt fearful at that point as there was no reason to the bleeding and to make matters scarier I had dried blood all around my mouth. I was told I was dehydrated and was put on a drip. The consultant came to see me and told me my baby was facing the wrong way and they think my body was naturally trying to turn him. They installed a catheter but only bloody urine came out so they took another couple of attempts to empty my bladder the best they could but actually what had happened was that my darling son had trapped my bladder. My consultant checked and I had decided the best course of action would be an epidural and some pitocin to try and expedite the whole process. He would be back to check on me.

It is decided that although I’m 9cm dilated a csection is needed due to baby positioning as my darling Charlie bear was face presenting. My hubby gets his scrubs on and we get wheeled into theatre. I can remember being petrified but the staff in their were amazing. I started to react to the anaesthetic and my body just starts uncontrollably shaking. Everything progresses as best as can be and the consultant even made a joke about his lion king moment as he lifted Charlie over the curtain for us to see. However I am short sighted and could only see a purpleish mass. (My first time seeing my son was over 20 mins later.)

I can remember hearing Charlie’s cry and feeling so overwhelmed but then a moment that has haunted me for years occurs in which I have what I’ve been told is significant blood loss and for some unknown reason blood flew across the room and covered my face and pillow. I remember being cold and wet and seeing the pale panicked face of my husband who is quickly trying to reassure me before he gets ushered out of the room. The next time I see him I am wheeled into recovery and the first time of holding my baby is when a midwife attaches him to my breast to feed. Less than an hour late with Charlie in my arms we are wheeled onto the ward and my husband is kicked out due to it not being visiting hours. The night I remember being a blur of morphine, buzz calling the nurses to pass Charlie over to me so I can feed him and trying my hardest to get some rest but being unable to process anything. There was no signal and I desperately wanted to reach out to my family. I clock watched until the morning when Jon was allowed in. 12 hours after my csection my catheter was removed and I was forced to have a shower so to stop any blood clots building. I did not feel strong enough to move scared I’d burst a stitch and felt like Bambi on ice when trying to move so Jon came with me, leaving Charlie in the room under supervision of a nurse. The bathroom was huge and had a seat under the shower in which I had to sit and have the most humiliating shower of my life. My husband had to wash my bruised, ballooned and bleeding body and all I wanted to do was sleep.

By day 3 I was moved back down to a different ward I had had no sleep and was on the verge of panic attacks. This ward didn’t allow hand rails along the bed which made it difficult to get up and down. Due to my blood loss I was told I needed to express some milk and then move onto formula however when I expressed I started bleeding. So formula it was. We had to use a beaker to feed Charlie as the midwife decided not to give us a bottle in case we moved back to breast feeding. At kicking out time I had a severe panic attack and didn’t want Jon to leave at all. I couldn’t cope and had a meltdown leading to a midwife coming in to talk to me telling me it was the baby blues. That night I couldn’t soothe Charlie at all and at one point I ask a health care advisor for some formula as Charlie was “rooting” and my gut was telling me he was hungry. I was refused as he had eaten not that long before and couldn’t be hungry again. This was when I started to second guess my instincts. It took me over an hour for them to agree on giving me some formula for him after he spent that time screaming the place down and I tried so hard to pace the room and comfort him.

The next morning Jon went and snuck some formula in because I wasn’t going to go and do that again. My legs started to swell and were rock hard. My ankles became the size of my thighs and I was so scared something wasn’t right. No one could give me an answer until a day later when I was told it was due to the amount of fluid in my body due to thinking I was dehydrated during labour, it had nowhere to go so congregated in a mass of tissue fluid around my body. I was not allowed to eat near my baby on this ward and had to leave him alone in a room whilst I dined in the communal space all the while just wanting to be with him. I had to use the facilities before being discharged but nothing was moving so I had to have more medication as well as peppermint water to ease the stomach pains. The washing facilities in this ward was a shower in which you had to step into the bath which I was unable to do unassisted so I washed my hair leaning over the tub as best I could. I pushed for my discharge as I knew I could feel better at home not around so many crying babies which encourages lactation which I now knew was pointless.

I came home and still needed help to step into my front door. A day or two later I passed a clot the size of my fist and followed doctors advice to go back into to hospital if you pass anything bigger than a 50pence piece I was kept in until my blood pressure stabilised as well as my heart rating coming down from 160bpm. I was made to feel guilty by an advisor at one point for needing to hold Charlie to calm me down as I felt safer with him in my arms. In her words it was not my child’s responsibility to ground me it’s my duty to protect him. I was put on more medication and then a day later had to go back in for scans on my legs to check for DVT. My husband was amazing and so supportive throughout the whole process even administering my blood thinning injections daily. I don’t know how we got through the whirlwind but we did.

I started to experience lightheadedness, dizziness and sickness, ectopic heartbeats as well as hormonal instability, then anxiety kicked in. I was told by my doctors it was postnatal depression and I could have even more medication for it. By this point I would rattle when I walked, I felt shunned and ignored so moved to a new surgery who recognised my symptoms as PTSD and my journey continued from there.

Sleep

So it’s 1:44am I’m sat in my bathroom as everyone else in the house sleeps. I want nothing more than to have a decent nights sleep but it’s been evading me for weeks. Unfortunately tonight seems like the worst night so far as I’m unable to sit still long enough to relax. I have a pounding headache, ectopics and my IBS is in full flare to the point I’m scared I will vomit not great when you have emetophobia. It’s so strange as at the beginning of this week I was buzzing like you cannot believe. Looking forward for lots of family and friend time over this weekend but as the days have passed my mood has lowered and it is the lowest it’s been for a long time. I don’t know if therapy has something to do with it.

My EMDR is progressing very well and in one of my last assessments my score went to sub 50 which is amazing and I am proud of that but with having to reprocess things I’m noticing more and more how angry I am about things I forgot about the birth. For example my first time looking at my son at the point I could see him due to short sightedness he was about 20 mins old and a nurse strapped him onto my breast as he needed to feed and it wasn’t until after he fed that I was able to look at him. Or the fact that I had less than an hour to spend time with Jon and Charlie before they sent Jon home as he wasn’t allowed on the ward at that time of night, or even the nurse forcing me to get up and have an agonising shower less than 12 hours after my c-section humiliated, vulnerable and powerless I had to sit on a chair under the shower as my husband washed me and changed my maternity pad whilst a nurse watched my child. I have never felt so exposed in my life and I have the most kind hearted supportive husband in the world.

I have since been told that this is the next stage of my brain reprocessing not focussing on the trauma as such and going through the stages of grief as I allow my ideal version of the situation die and become replaced with the acceptance that yes this did happen and yes it can be a trigger for me but I’m working on it… now if only I could sleep

The what ifs…

I have had such a productive day and was in a good space. Work was very enjoyable and constructive and I did 60% of the Christmas shopping online through Black Friday sales etc. Then for no real reason a black cloud descended and I can’t mute the voice in the back of my head who piped up quietly at first before increasing in volume…

What’s starts as an insignificant throwaway thought becomes a weed that spreads it was through my body. Weaving it’s knots into my jaw, then neck muscles, constricting my chest, flips my stomach upside down and curls my toes. I have learnt recently that the more I struggle against these emotions and moments the stronger and more resistant they become, like quick sand drawing me into a pit of despair So I am trying to allow myself to feel and think the threat and fear before reminding myself of the present situation, the here and now, the moment with no need for a fight or flight response and now I can feel my eyelids getting heavy with the exhaustion of it all and I hope for a restful sleep away from this indefatigable anxiety.

This is hard…

So I’m in a period of low mood and anxiety which is to be expected during therapy as you are uncovering the causes of distress. Since starting the sessions I have more nightmares or terrors, more episodes of ectopic heartbeats and more chest pain than I have experienced since May.

Today I am on a day off work with my little man and am desperate to get out of the house and go up to the local shopping centre but I don’t have much energy and then the thought of what if it’s too much of a struggle is plaguing me what if like last time he doesn’t want to be in his pushchair and wants to walk around then that is too much when I’m solo outside with him as I can’t scan for hazards fast enough. You see that is something I can’t seem to harness yet. The overwhelming need for self preservation… it’s animal instincts scanning for dangers and sometimes I don’t have the strength in me to venture out just me and the cub… some in the past have called it lazy but it’s an exhausting mission just to pluck up the courage to get out sometimes.

So today I have a face of make up on, my nails freshly painted and hair done both Charlie and I are dressed so should that spark of courage find its way to me we will be out the door in a heartbeat if not then I guess that’s ok… maybe another day.

But then here comes the guilt I need to go out for myself, for Charlie otherwise all I have done this week is go to work and be at home minus a couple of appointments etc. I want to be a big beautiful sociable butterfly but my circle of friends are all adults now who live further away or have full time jobs and families of their own. Our days off together never seem to coordinate but when we do get together it’s like no time has passed and I’m genuinely happy. So it’s easier to lock ourselves into our bubble and stay at home no matter how much I know that isn’t going to help

Rain before the rainbow?

Ok so I’m not having a good day. I’ve laughed, I’ve shouted, I’ve cried and I want to sleep. I am in bed listening to the metronome of Charlie’s angel care mat fighting the urge to get in bed with him. The husband is away so I’m alone with my thoughts tonight which isn’t going so well and it’s fast approaching Halloween which would have been Grandad’s 93rd birthday and the first one without him celebrating with us.

So far tonight I’ve had chest pain, my stomach feels like I have done 100 crunches or sit-ups… we all know that didn’t happen, I’ve had dizziness, brain fog and rolling ectopic heartbeats. Oh not too mention my pupils being different sizes. I’m on alert mode, hyper vigilant scanning all the time my surroundings and myself. I hate it. I’m exhausted and I want to rest and sleep which I can’t do as well because I’m missing part of me. I am grounding myself the best of my abilities and trying to sit in these moments as these too shall pass but this is easier said than done when it’s fight or flight time. So my hope to get it out onto paper acknowledging the predicament and getting that weight off my shoulders. But that is always hard when you start experiencing new painful sensations and you are trying to put the cause down to anxiety. Like I said before I want to think horses when I hear hooves not zebras.