Rainbow Babies and Postpartum Anxiety
I don’t normally do trigger warnings because I hate to think that my sweet baby Cooper could be the source of any shitty feelings, but I know that many of you are pregnant and I don’t want to scare you, so please take heed before reading my story.
My kids are currently in the air without me.
And I’m terrified.
I lost my first baby half way through my first pregnancy.
It was unexpected.
After months of grieving, we tried and we tried and we tried and we tried again.
And nothing.
Secondary infertility.
Then acupuncture and nasty teas and supplements and all the things.
And all that money.
But none of that mattered.
We wanted a baby.
Then IUIs.
And then IVF.
With this we got lucky.
And then I spent my whole pregnancy anxious and stressed and worried and scared and paying attention to how I sat and bent and turned and slept.
And I worried about every thing I put in my mouth and I worried every time I sneezed that my water would break.
That’s what it’s like to be pregnant after a loss.
I spent so much time resting and relaxing on my couch because I was trying desperately to keep him from dying that I made it literally impossible for him to get himself into an optimum fetal position and instead he was breech so my planned home birth turned into a cesarean.
Five days in the hospital where I had a revolving door of visitors.
I barely slept.
The beeping, the checking, the smells, the unfamiliarity, the lack of privacy.
I couldn’t do it.
At home, everywhere I looked there were things that needed to be done.
Dogs barking.
Dog hair.
Laundry.
Chores.
Food shopping.
Christmas lists.
Thank you cards.
Meal prepping.
A crying baby to nurse and bounce and change and bathe and shush.
And my then husband went back to work.
And I was alone with a baby who would never let me put him down.
Weeks went by and months went by and nothing seemed to be getting any easier for me.
Three years later I was diagnosed.
Postpartum anxiety.
My diagnosis made a difference.
But it didn't make it easier.
I wanted another baby but I was so scared.
My postpartum had been so fucking hard.
I didn’t want to do that again.
But eventually I got brave enough to try.
A couple of failed frozen cycles and a fresh one later we were given a 10% chance of getting pregnant and holy shit when they called to tell me I was pregnant I didn't believe the nurse on the other end of the line.
This pregnancy was a little bit more relaxed than the last one.
But I was still scared every day.
I'm still scared every day.
Those babies are 13 and 9 now and they are currently on an airplane without me.
And I’m fucking terrified.
And I don't mean regular terrified.
I mean full-blown anxiety terrified.
Even with all the therapy and all the work I’ve done.
Even with medication and meditation.
I am still terrified.
Because I know that babies can die.
And that’s terrifying.
When my teenager gets upset and locks himself in his room, I’m terrified.
When he’s out riding his bike with his friends, I’m terrified.
When I drop them off at school, I’m terrified.
When the little one shows me the lump growing on his foot, I’m terrified.
I met with a new therapist recently and he asked me, “What was it like to be a new mom to your baby after losing his brother in such a sudden and unexpected way?”
No one had ever asked me that.
I told him that it was terrifying.
I told him that as a new mom I was scared all the time.
And that I spent my days and nights trying to keep my baby from dying.
I live with the fear of my babies dying even today, 15 years later, because my baby’s death changed me at my core.
And it’s hard.
Every day, it’s hard.
And this is why I do what I do. If you know a mom who is struggling postpartum, send her my way. And if you are a mom who is struggling, reach out. I’ve been there.
I understand.
Learn more about my upcoming group coaching program — Postpartum Rescue & Recovery here.
