Monday, 22 April 2013
When your child hates you...
Just a little something that popped into my head tonight that I thought I'd share...
I'm lucky enough that my step-daughter has never said to me "I hate you". I always said to myself that there would be a day when it would let slip from her mouth, but to date, she hasn't. I have know her for nearly ten years now so it just goes to show how great a relationship we share.
She has, however, on occasion, said things like, "I hate living here" or similar statements.
I had a few moments to peruse the meaning of this and tried to think back to when I may have said a similar thing to my own parents (I am pretty sure I have told them I hated them at one time or another...)
It let me to conclude that, just like adults can say silly things in the heat of the moment to their spouse or friend... likewise, a teen or tween or even a young child can say things that they don't really mean. The difference is though, that generally children need some prompting to acknowledge their emotions, to be able to recognise their emotions and organise their feelings so that they can come to a place of remorse, forgiveness and an understanding of how to diffuse a situation or control their anger before things are said rashly.
When Madison has had emotional, angry outbursts and has retreated to her room, slamming her bedroom door, instead of myself getting angry at her for being rude, or disrespecting our property, I have know learned to take a few deep breaths, make sure I am calm, THINK about the situation and why she has behaved this way, BEFORE I approach her. This also gives her time to have a few deep breaths, maybe a little cry to get out the excess emotions, to collect herself, maybe have some "it's so unfair" thoughts and get that out of her system.
Because it's no use for me to go immediately in there and yell at her for back chatting, being disobedient and disrespectful to our property. It will only cause more anger and begin an even more heated argument.
When a child says "I hate you"...
They don't hate you.
They feel out of control
They feel angry at the situation.
They feel frustrated that they are not adults and can not be treated like an adult or have adult privileges.
They feel scared that they feel so angry that they could burst inside and their head could explode from all that anger
They feel disappointed that something was not as they had expected, and they don't understand how to change it, make it happen or control the situation.
They feel frustrated that someone else has a say in their life, and that when that "say" is something unexpected or something they don't want to do, they have no authority to change it.
They feel as though their word is not under their own control and someone else is controlling their life.
They don't understand that we are trying to create them to be wonderful adults who can cope in the big, wide world. They just think we are trying to get them to do chores they don't want to do, or study boring or difficult subjects that don't capture their interest. Or even just the fact that they want their own way and we have to train them to realise that the world is not like that and things won't just get handed to them on a silver platter!
So I breathe. I think about the situation. I think about what to say and what NOT to say. I give her time. I give her space.
Then I go in to her room. I sit down on the end of her bed and ignore the fact she is giving me daggers! I rub her feet if she is crying. Then I just give her a big hug. I don't say anything. I just hold her. I hold her regardless of whether she hugs me back or not.
Then I say, "it is so hard to be young. I know. I remember what it was like being your age and being in your situation. It's not easy. I sometimes hated my parents too. And you know what? I always told myself I would remember this pain and suffering so that when I had my own children I would never make them feel this way EVER. But you know... then you become a grown up. And you forget. You get busy with trying to control everything so that life works for everyone. And you forget about how it feels to be the kid."
Before I know it, she has softened and is crying WITH me, not without me. She knows that I understand and I have taken time to remember. And I do this, not only for her sake, but for the sake of my grandchildren, in the hope that she remembers these moments and treats them in the same way.
Once we are on the same level again, then it is easier to explain the reason why whatever it was we were arguing about is so important for her to learn as she grows up. That she understands we are trying to help, not to control.
It doesn't always work, but I know for sure that it makes things a whole lot easier when you are working with your child and not against your child.
Anyways that is my thoughts for tonight :-)
Saturday, 26 January 2013
What family support?
It's been a while since I blogged in here... to be honest I haven't really felt like writing. But I know I've needed to get a few things out, but I still don't really have the energy or the time to do it! I feel like my days are filled with being my family's crutch/maid/scapegoat. I am starting to change how I feel because of the medication I am no longer in a deep pit of depression. But while my mood has been lifted by medication, my environment hasn't really changed much. I am talking about family support.
Don't get me wrong, my family is wonderful and I love them all. My husband is so domesticated and helpful, my step-daughter is fun to have around and chat with, Emilie is very playful and Cadence is such a cuddle bug. I suppose I am just wanting things from them that they are not necessarily prepared to give. I desperately want affection from Paul, but he is more the "doing" type, he will "do" things for me to show me he loves me (which I am so lucky to have since not many wives can say that!) Madison, I suppose I really crave her friendship, which she has been giving since school holidays, but during term she can be crabby and have a "teen attitude" toward me. Emilie is always on the go and I crave her affection too, but she is not an affectionate child. Cadence on the other hand is extremely affectionate and I am savouring each wonderful cuddle we have, although her clinginess and separation anxiety can be overwhelming and tiring!
I guess what I am saying is, I'm trying really hard to fit into the profile that the rest of my family want me to be. The cook, the cleaner, the laundromat, the chauffeur, the ATM, the comforter, the disciplinarian, the sex goddess (lol) but no one seems to make the effort to give into my emotional needs, even though I desperately need it before I can truly overcome PND and PNA. I have come so far with my own mood, wanting to change, making it happen, trying to improve my environment and daily schedules to accomodate my own happiness but there is still something missing and I think it may be compassion from my family. There is no time for PND in my household. No one really cares that I am going through this. So for now I'll just have to be happy with what I have and forgive them all (toddler and baby exempt due to age of course) and try to make my own happiness.
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
An update...
So... just an update.
Had to go back to my ob to get a new referral for my psychologist since my 6 free sessions were up. So now I have another 4. My PNA has progressed into full blown PND and I won't be writing much tonight because I just don't have the energy. I am going to start medication so I will pick up a script from my ob tomorrow (not sure which one yet, will find out tomorrow). But just thought I would update from my phone since I haven't updated for a while.
Things have been really tough at home. Especially with Emilie. She is just so hard to deal with, her behaviour is so messed up and I feel like a failure of a mum. She is on the wait list for Early Intervention because she has failed some components of an Ages and Stages review. She is having a blood test tomorrow to check her Ferritin levels.
Will write again when I can be bothered.
Sunday, 19 August 2012
Emilie Part Two - Saying Goodbye
When NETS came to collect Emilie, I was in the expressing room. The kind midwife that rang PMH knocked on the door and came in. She sat down across from me and said, "I just want to give you a heads up. NETS are here to take your baby. Take a moment to gather yourself before you come to the nursery. The incubator is very large and all the leads look scary, but they are just there to monitor your baby's vital signs and nothing more, so just be aware that it may come as a shock to you."
I came out to the nursery and there was my little Emilie, teeny and tiny, already inside the incubator. I didn't even have a moment to touch her and say good-bye. I felt like she was no longer my baby. I no longer had the power that mothers have that says, "I am this baby's mother". I felt like I was not allowed to be a part of her anymore. Not allowed to touch her or hold her or have feelings for her.
The transport paramedics were so lovely and kind. So understanding. They introduced themselves and my obstetrician had arrived also, by coincidence. I felt very claustrophobic and the walls were closing in on me. There were nurses and paramedics and other mothers all in the nursery and it felt very crowded.
I did feel as though all eyes were on me. I felt the other mothers in the nursery looking on and wondering what was going on with my baby. I just wanted to yell at them to stop staring at my baby, stop staring at me.
For some reason my obstetrician decided it was a good idea to do the "now let's talk about contraception, do you know that breastfeeding won't stop you getting pregnant again" discussion. I felt like whacking him over the head and spitting in his face, "DON'T YOU KNOW I CAN'T EVEN FEED MY BABY YOU DICKHEAD!" I suddenly felt very hot and sweaty and I half fainted-half hurried to sit on a chair near the nursery door. With a trembling voice, and trying not to cry I said, pathetically, "we will use condoms" and then burst into tears. At this stage, Paul was still on his way to pick me up and the only person to hold me was my obstetrician so I cried into his shoulder. I felt so stupid and lame and just wanted the room to be empty so I could be alone.
And before I knew it, the paramedics had Emilie ready to go. I was asked if I wanted to take a photo. I declined (I regret this now, but at the time it seemed ludicrous). I didn't really know how to say goodbye to her. It was almost as if I was expected to just give her a wave and a smile and a "hooroo!" and send her on her merry way. I was given some pamphlets about NETS and some forms to sign and a map of PMH and directions of where to go to get to NICU. And just like that, she was gone.
Back in my room I packed my bags and made sure everything was ready to go. Then I sat on my bed, staring out the window and waiting for Paul to come. It was just after Christmas and Madison (his eldest daughter) was staying the week at our place like she does every year. But this year I asked if she could go back to her mum's because I needed to be alone. I needed space. So Paul was driving back from dropping her off (she lived about an hour from the hospital so I was waiting a while).
I was in a 4 bed shared room and three of the beds were vacant. Now, I don't know the logistics of the maternity ward but for some reason they decided they would move a new mum who had given birth that day into the bed opposite mine. Apart from not recognising my daughter's symptoms and acting upon them, this act was the a close second in the insensitivity of the midwifery staff at the hospital. All I wanted and needed to do was sit and cry and cry and cry. But having this woman and all her celebrating family in the room prevented me from doing that.
There was champagne popping and grandparents laughing and family cooing and gushing over this little perfect newborn and here was I, with but a curtain drawn as the only privacy, and I was desperately holding back audible sobs. My chest was exploding with the pain of contained crying.
At last, Paul came into the room and the moment I saw his face I couldn't hold it in any longer and just burst. I bawled. There was a sudden hush from the family behind my curtain and I just wanted them to GO AWAY. It was not their fault at all and thinking back on it I am really regretful that I may have dampened their happy day with my sadness that had no explanation to them. But at that moment I desperately wanted them to be gone.
Paul and I sat on the bed while he held me as I cried. The lunch tray came and Paul told me to eat it before we left but I wasn't hungry and I just wanted to go straight to the hospital to see my baby. So we grabbed my bags and I took a deep breath as we drew back the curtain to reveal ourselves to my room-mate. I glanced quickly at the mother laying in bed and she withdrew her eyes from mine, embarrassed to have overheard my tears. She could see there was only us and no baby. They all hung their heads and pretended they couldn't see us.
I just wanted to leave, but Paul, every so friendly (and this is one of the reasons I am so much in love with him) broke the tension by saying, "Fresh lunch, here for the taking, anyone?"
"Oh... no thank you..." they said, still avoiding eye contact. I wanted to tell them to please not be so embarrassed, please don't think our baby is dead, please don't give us those sympathetic looks. But I just couldn't speak. I could not get out of that room quick enough.
After leaving the birth hospital, Paul asked if I wanted to go home first. No way! Straight to the hospital please!!! So we headed over there. It was the very first time I had ever been to the children's hospital, and the first of many, many visits.
To be continued...
I came out to the nursery and there was my little Emilie, teeny and tiny, already inside the incubator. I didn't even have a moment to touch her and say good-bye. I felt like she was no longer my baby. I no longer had the power that mothers have that says, "I am this baby's mother". I felt like I was not allowed to be a part of her anymore. Not allowed to touch her or hold her or have feelings for her.
The transport paramedics were so lovely and kind. So understanding. They introduced themselves and my obstetrician had arrived also, by coincidence. I felt very claustrophobic and the walls were closing in on me. There were nurses and paramedics and other mothers all in the nursery and it felt very crowded.
I did feel as though all eyes were on me. I felt the other mothers in the nursery looking on and wondering what was going on with my baby. I just wanted to yell at them to stop staring at my baby, stop staring at me.
For some reason my obstetrician decided it was a good idea to do the "now let's talk about contraception, do you know that breastfeeding won't stop you getting pregnant again" discussion. I felt like whacking him over the head and spitting in his face, "DON'T YOU KNOW I CAN'T EVEN FEED MY BABY YOU DICKHEAD!" I suddenly felt very hot and sweaty and I half fainted-half hurried to sit on a chair near the nursery door. With a trembling voice, and trying not to cry I said, pathetically, "we will use condoms" and then burst into tears. At this stage, Paul was still on his way to pick me up and the only person to hold me was my obstetrician so I cried into his shoulder. I felt so stupid and lame and just wanted the room to be empty so I could be alone.
And before I knew it, the paramedics had Emilie ready to go. I was asked if I wanted to take a photo. I declined (I regret this now, but at the time it seemed ludicrous). I didn't really know how to say goodbye to her. It was almost as if I was expected to just give her a wave and a smile and a "hooroo!" and send her on her merry way. I was given some pamphlets about NETS and some forms to sign and a map of PMH and directions of where to go to get to NICU. And just like that, she was gone.
Back in my room I packed my bags and made sure everything was ready to go. Then I sat on my bed, staring out the window and waiting for Paul to come. It was just after Christmas and Madison (his eldest daughter) was staying the week at our place like she does every year. But this year I asked if she could go back to her mum's because I needed to be alone. I needed space. So Paul was driving back from dropping her off (she lived about an hour from the hospital so I was waiting a while).
I was in a 4 bed shared room and three of the beds were vacant. Now, I don't know the logistics of the maternity ward but for some reason they decided they would move a new mum who had given birth that day into the bed opposite mine. Apart from not recognising my daughter's symptoms and acting upon them, this act was the a close second in the insensitivity of the midwifery staff at the hospital. All I wanted and needed to do was sit and cry and cry and cry. But having this woman and all her celebrating family in the room prevented me from doing that.
There was champagne popping and grandparents laughing and family cooing and gushing over this little perfect newborn and here was I, with but a curtain drawn as the only privacy, and I was desperately holding back audible sobs. My chest was exploding with the pain of contained crying.
At last, Paul came into the room and the moment I saw his face I couldn't hold it in any longer and just burst. I bawled. There was a sudden hush from the family behind my curtain and I just wanted them to GO AWAY. It was not their fault at all and thinking back on it I am really regretful that I may have dampened their happy day with my sadness that had no explanation to them. But at that moment I desperately wanted them to be gone.
Paul and I sat on the bed while he held me as I cried. The lunch tray came and Paul told me to eat it before we left but I wasn't hungry and I just wanted to go straight to the hospital to see my baby. So we grabbed my bags and I took a deep breath as we drew back the curtain to reveal ourselves to my room-mate. I glanced quickly at the mother laying in bed and she withdrew her eyes from mine, embarrassed to have overheard my tears. She could see there was only us and no baby. They all hung their heads and pretended they couldn't see us.
I just wanted to leave, but Paul, every so friendly (and this is one of the reasons I am so much in love with him) broke the tension by saying, "Fresh lunch, here for the taking, anyone?"
"Oh... no thank you..." they said, still avoiding eye contact. I wanted to tell them to please not be so embarrassed, please don't think our baby is dead, please don't give us those sympathetic looks. But I just couldn't speak. I could not get out of that room quick enough.
After leaving the birth hospital, Paul asked if I wanted to go home first. No way! Straight to the hospital please!!! So we headed over there. It was the very first time I had ever been to the children's hospital, and the first of many, many visits.
To be continued...
Sunday, 5 August 2012
Emilie Part One - Her First Three Days
When my first daughter, Emilie, was born, she was unexpectedly taken from me at 3 days old because she couldn't breathe properly. I suppose in a way, I am one of the lucky ones, because some mothers have their babies whisked away from them at the moment of birth because they are so, so sick. I was lucky to have 3 days with my daughter in hospital before we were separated. In another way though, it was very traumatic to have her taken at 3 days old, because this is the day my milk came in, and baby blues came to visit.
Emilie was born with severe Laryngomalacia which means that from her very first breath, she struggled to get enough air in to her lungs. Laryngomalacia is where the structure of the larynx (voice box) is soft instead of rigid, so upon inspiration (breathing in) this structure collapses into the airway causing a dangerous obstruction. It is a very common birth defect, in that most babies born with it are a very mild case and causes no other complications other than noisy breathing (sounds like a squeaky noise when the baby breathes in due to the obstruction).
We later found out that Emilie also was born with a Laryngeal Cleft. In basic terms it means that just where her Laryngomalacia (LM) was obstructing her passage of air into her lungs, her Laryngeal Cleft (LC) prevented her from closing off her wind pipe properly when she swallowed milk, meaning that she was very much at risk from inhaling or "aspirating" her milk. This was NOT picked up until after she had turned 2, despite a test called a Barium Swallow at 5 days old and all the Laryngoscopies she had to go through, it was missed. This caused her so many problems as a baby. I am actually really surprised that she made it through without having some serious emergencies. She is a fighter.
LM on its own causes feeding difficulties in babies, even in mild cases. I am not sure how much weight this has, but I have read in a medical journal that the nerve that controls the "suck-swallow-breathe sequence" in babies is somehow interrupted in cases of LM, so that there is no brain signal that tells the baby how to feed in an LM baby, no matter how hard you try to get them to latch and suck, that vital instinct that most babies are born with just isn't there.
Three days before Emilie was born, my good friend from highschool had a baby girl. I went to visit her in hospital the day before Emilie was born and while I was there, my friend picked up her tiny bub and popped her onto the breast as if it were the easiest thing in the world. It just seemed so natural and I thought to myself, I can't wait until my baby is born so that I can experience the joy of breastfeeding! I never imagined just how hard it would be to feed my baby.
With her very first breath, Emilie struggled. Everyone in the room heard the screeching, high pitched breathing noise, and I thought "OMG what is that?"
When she was placed onto my chest, I said to the midwife, "why can't she breathe?"
"Oh, she may just have a bit of mucus in her airways still... we will try and suction her in a minute"
"Why isn't she crying?" I asked
"Not all babies cry when they are born" I was told.
"Why is she blue?" I asked
"Oh, all babies are blue when they are first born, their circulatory system needs to crank into gear and get that blood moving"
After a while, Emilie was really finding it hard to breathe and was still blue so the midwife whisked her away to suction some gunk out of her airways and some oxygen to help her get started.
She was still making that noise. I wanted to know what they were doing to her over there. I still had the epidural in so I was confined to bed, and all I could see was a bunch of doctors and midwives standing around my baby. They were in the way and I couldn't see her. I heard the doctors and nurses whispering and I heard them say this word... Strider... whisper, whisper, [insert medical jargon here], strider...
What is strider? I asked a midwife. "Oh that is just the sound she is making, it's very common in newborns"
"Why is it so loud? Is she ok? Can I see her?"
"She is just having some oxygen lovey, she is fine, though, she is nice and pink now"
Strider, strider, this funny word going around in my head. It made me think of the pram we had bought for her. It was called a Strider. It made me think of a funny man with long legs taking big steps down the footpath. Strider.
I later found out it was spelt STRIDOR:
Emilie was allowed to try and breastfeed once she was stable. But no matter how hard the midwives tried, they could not get her to suck. She latched on for a second, but just lay there, doing nothing. "Don't worry," they said, "she is probably a little bit sleepy from the birth. She has had a tough day too! We can try again later."
Back in the ward, I lay there in my bed just staring at her through the clear perspex of the hospital bassinette. She was so beautiful, she was asleep. But that noise worried me. She was still making that noise. It was a bit softer now, and sort of sounded like a dove cooing.
But things were not ok. A midwife took her to the nursery so I could sleep without her noise. I woke a few hours later and heard a baby crying. I rang the bell. A midwife came.
"Do I need to feed my baby yet...?" I asked
"Oh, no, your baby is fast asleep, that isn't your baby crying. Try and get some rest"
A few hours later a midwife came and woke me. "It's time for you to feed your baby," she said.
I dragged myself from bed into the nursery and was handed a baby who was shoving her hands into her mouth and scratching her face. Her stridor was very loud.
"Why is she making that noise?" I asked once again.
"Oh, newborns make lots of strange noises when they are first born! Don't worry, it is normal."
I sat down and the midwife helped me to latch Emilie. She latched, then did nothing, just lay there with my nipple in her mouth. The midwife tried squeezing my breast to get some colostrum into her mouth and prompt her to suck, but nothing. We tried the other breast. "C'mon little one, mummy has great equipment, let's see if we can get you to suck some milk" nothing. Tried the footy hold. Nothing. Looked into her mouth for a tongue tie. Nothing. Tickled her cheek. Nothing. Put a finger on the roof of her mouth. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It didn't work.
"Well, she is asleep again now, maybe we can try again in the morning," the midwife said.
A couple of hours later when it was just starting to get light, we tried again and the same story. She just. wouldn't. suck.
At every feed, every midwife or lactation consultant tried something different, lay down to feed her. Nope. Lay sideways to feed her. Nope. Try a nipple shield. Nope. Have you tried the footy hold? Oh it didn't work? Let's try again. Nope. They all squeezed my goddam boobs until they were so sore I was beginning to wonder how I could have every complained during childbirth!
Then Emilie just slept. And slept. And slept. This wasn't good, the midwife said. We need to get onto this feeding issue. So I was given bottles and sent to the expressing room to get some colostrum for Emilie.
But even with a bottle in her mouth, she still wouldn't suck. So out came the syringe. the midwife syringed some colostrum into her mouth and finally she swallowed it! Nearly 24 hours after her birth she finally had something in her tummy. We just needed to get her to feed again.
It was the same cycle at every feed. Try to latch her. No sucking. Find a midwife. Be poked and squeezed until we gave up and syringed her again. But with every shift change, I had to explain the situation to the next midwife and convince her to let me use the expressing room and syringe. "Your baby is too lazy, you can't keep offering the syringe or she will be too lazy", they all said. Weigh the baby, oh she has lost more weight. She is starting to get jaundice, you need to flush it out with milk... The pressure was ON to get her to feed. And she was still so noisy when she was breathing. None of the other babies in the nursery made that noise. There HAS to be something up???
On the morning of her third day, I woke up and my milk had started coming in and my breasts were very engorged. I ran to the the nurses station and cried, "I need to express. RIGHT. NOW!!!"
I sat in the room and expressed and felt so much better. But, oh no, you can't do that every time. Your baby needs to learn to suck. Just keep perservering. She will suck when she is hungry enough... AARGH tearing my hair out, I sat in the nursery and watched another new mother who I had seen previously breastfeeding her baby with no problems, refuse to put her baby to the breast because she had cracked nipples, and demand a tin of formula and that was it. I just broke down into tears.
At Emilie's next feed, a lovely midwife who was about the only one who really cared, came into my room to help me try and feed and when we gave up and got the syringe, I was syringing it into Emilie's mouth but she choked on the milk and turned blue. The midwife grabbed her from me and turned her over to get the milk out. Emilie coughed and vomited and her colour returned. The midwife gently told me to sit back down. She said, "Your baby needs to be in a better equipped hospital than this. The combination of the stridor, the feeding problems, the jaundice and the loss of more than 10% birth weight, I am so sorry, but I am going to have to call Princess Margaret Hospital and get the Newborn Emergency Transport Service to transfer her to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. There is just something not right and I just can't discharge you to go home when she is like this. I am so sorry..."
I just broke down into tears. They were tears of heartbreak, but at the same time, tears because someone had finally listened and yes, there was something wrong but something was going to be finally happening about it. The actual emotion of being separated from my newborn daughter didn't hit me until later.
To be continued...
Emilie was born with severe Laryngomalacia which means that from her very first breath, she struggled to get enough air in to her lungs. Laryngomalacia is where the structure of the larynx (voice box) is soft instead of rigid, so upon inspiration (breathing in) this structure collapses into the airway causing a dangerous obstruction. It is a very common birth defect, in that most babies born with it are a very mild case and causes no other complications other than noisy breathing (sounds like a squeaky noise when the baby breathes in due to the obstruction).
We later found out that Emilie also was born with a Laryngeal Cleft. In basic terms it means that just where her Laryngomalacia (LM) was obstructing her passage of air into her lungs, her Laryngeal Cleft (LC) prevented her from closing off her wind pipe properly when she swallowed milk, meaning that she was very much at risk from inhaling or "aspirating" her milk. This was NOT picked up until after she had turned 2, despite a test called a Barium Swallow at 5 days old and all the Laryngoscopies she had to go through, it was missed. This caused her so many problems as a baby. I am actually really surprised that she made it through without having some serious emergencies. She is a fighter.
LM on its own causes feeding difficulties in babies, even in mild cases. I am not sure how much weight this has, but I have read in a medical journal that the nerve that controls the "suck-swallow-breathe sequence" in babies is somehow interrupted in cases of LM, so that there is no brain signal that tells the baby how to feed in an LM baby, no matter how hard you try to get them to latch and suck, that vital instinct that most babies are born with just isn't there.
Three days before Emilie was born, my good friend from highschool had a baby girl. I went to visit her in hospital the day before Emilie was born and while I was there, my friend picked up her tiny bub and popped her onto the breast as if it were the easiest thing in the world. It just seemed so natural and I thought to myself, I can't wait until my baby is born so that I can experience the joy of breastfeeding! I never imagined just how hard it would be to feed my baby.
With her very first breath, Emilie struggled. Everyone in the room heard the screeching, high pitched breathing noise, and I thought "OMG what is that?"
When she was placed onto my chest, I said to the midwife, "why can't she breathe?"
"Oh, she may just have a bit of mucus in her airways still... we will try and suction her in a minute"
"Why isn't she crying?" I asked
"Not all babies cry when they are born" I was told.
"Why is she blue?" I asked
"Oh, all babies are blue when they are first born, their circulatory system needs to crank into gear and get that blood moving"
After a while, Emilie was really finding it hard to breathe and was still blue so the midwife whisked her away to suction some gunk out of her airways and some oxygen to help her get started.
She was still making that noise. I wanted to know what they were doing to her over there. I still had the epidural in so I was confined to bed, and all I could see was a bunch of doctors and midwives standing around my baby. They were in the way and I couldn't see her. I heard the doctors and nurses whispering and I heard them say this word... Strider... whisper, whisper, [insert medical jargon here], strider...
What is strider? I asked a midwife. "Oh that is just the sound she is making, it's very common in newborns"
"Why is it so loud? Is she ok? Can I see her?"
"She is just having some oxygen lovey, she is fine, though, she is nice and pink now"
Strider, strider, this funny word going around in my head. It made me think of the pram we had bought for her. It was called a Strider. It made me think of a funny man with long legs taking big steps down the footpath. Strider.
I later found out it was spelt STRIDOR:
stri·dor/ˈstrīdər/
| Noun: |
|
Back in the ward, I lay there in my bed just staring at her through the clear perspex of the hospital bassinette. She was so beautiful, she was asleep. But that noise worried me. She was still making that noise. It was a bit softer now, and sort of sounded like a dove cooing.
But things were not ok. A midwife took her to the nursery so I could sleep without her noise. I woke a few hours later and heard a baby crying. I rang the bell. A midwife came.
"Do I need to feed my baby yet...?" I asked
"Oh, no, your baby is fast asleep, that isn't your baby crying. Try and get some rest"
A few hours later a midwife came and woke me. "It's time for you to feed your baby," she said.
I dragged myself from bed into the nursery and was handed a baby who was shoving her hands into her mouth and scratching her face. Her stridor was very loud.
"Why is she making that noise?" I asked once again.
"Oh, newborns make lots of strange noises when they are first born! Don't worry, it is normal."
I sat down and the midwife helped me to latch Emilie. She latched, then did nothing, just lay there with my nipple in her mouth. The midwife tried squeezing my breast to get some colostrum into her mouth and prompt her to suck, but nothing. We tried the other breast. "C'mon little one, mummy has great equipment, let's see if we can get you to suck some milk" nothing. Tried the footy hold. Nothing. Looked into her mouth for a tongue tie. Nothing. Tickled her cheek. Nothing. Put a finger on the roof of her mouth. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. It didn't work.
"Well, she is asleep again now, maybe we can try again in the morning," the midwife said.
A couple of hours later when it was just starting to get light, we tried again and the same story. She just. wouldn't. suck.
At every feed, every midwife or lactation consultant tried something different, lay down to feed her. Nope. Lay sideways to feed her. Nope. Try a nipple shield. Nope. Have you tried the footy hold? Oh it didn't work? Let's try again. Nope. They all squeezed my goddam boobs until they were so sore I was beginning to wonder how I could have every complained during childbirth!
Then Emilie just slept. And slept. And slept. This wasn't good, the midwife said. We need to get onto this feeding issue. So I was given bottles and sent to the expressing room to get some colostrum for Emilie.
But even with a bottle in her mouth, she still wouldn't suck. So out came the syringe. the midwife syringed some colostrum into her mouth and finally she swallowed it! Nearly 24 hours after her birth she finally had something in her tummy. We just needed to get her to feed again.
It was the same cycle at every feed. Try to latch her. No sucking. Find a midwife. Be poked and squeezed until we gave up and syringed her again. But with every shift change, I had to explain the situation to the next midwife and convince her to let me use the expressing room and syringe. "Your baby is too lazy, you can't keep offering the syringe or she will be too lazy", they all said. Weigh the baby, oh she has lost more weight. She is starting to get jaundice, you need to flush it out with milk... The pressure was ON to get her to feed. And she was still so noisy when she was breathing. None of the other babies in the nursery made that noise. There HAS to be something up???
On the morning of her third day, I woke up and my milk had started coming in and my breasts were very engorged. I ran to the the nurses station and cried, "I need to express. RIGHT. NOW!!!"
I sat in the room and expressed and felt so much better. But, oh no, you can't do that every time. Your baby needs to learn to suck. Just keep perservering. She will suck when she is hungry enough... AARGH tearing my hair out, I sat in the nursery and watched another new mother who I had seen previously breastfeeding her baby with no problems, refuse to put her baby to the breast because she had cracked nipples, and demand a tin of formula and that was it. I just broke down into tears.
At Emilie's next feed, a lovely midwife who was about the only one who really cared, came into my room to help me try and feed and when we gave up and got the syringe, I was syringing it into Emilie's mouth but she choked on the milk and turned blue. The midwife grabbed her from me and turned her over to get the milk out. Emilie coughed and vomited and her colour returned. The midwife gently told me to sit back down. She said, "Your baby needs to be in a better equipped hospital than this. The combination of the stridor, the feeding problems, the jaundice and the loss of more than 10% birth weight, I am so sorry, but I am going to have to call Princess Margaret Hospital and get the Newborn Emergency Transport Service to transfer her to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. There is just something not right and I just can't discharge you to go home when she is like this. I am so sorry..."
I just broke down into tears. They were tears of heartbreak, but at the same time, tears because someone had finally listened and yes, there was something wrong but something was going to be finally happening about it. The actual emotion of being separated from my newborn daughter didn't hit me until later.
To be continued...
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
The Drug-Free Birth of Cadence - VERY LONG
This is my birth story for Cadence.
After fertility problems before conceiving our first daughter, Emilie, my husband Paul and I were delighted to find out that we were expecting our second child on the first try! (It was the second month of trying to conceive, but we had missed the ovulation boat the first month due to Paul being away at work).
I had experienced morning sickness much worse than with Emilie, which made me think I could be carrying a boy this time. Paul and I were hopeful. We thought having a little boy would be lovely, but of course we just wanted a healthy baby. We both decided we would find out the sex of the baby at the 19 week scan. The morning of the scan, Paul and Emilie were lying in bed together while I got dressed and I asked Paul, “would you be disappointed if we were having another girl?” Paul leaned over and kissed Emilie on the head and said, “no way!” Secretly I was hoping for another little princess! I already knew I wanted to name her Cadence!
The scan revealed that we were expecting another daughter! We were both so excited!
A few days later, Paul and I were doing some work renovating our home and I started getting period-like cramps. I didn’t think much of them until they started getting really painful and I got breathless so I decided to time them and they were around 15 minutes apart. This really scared me, so Paul took me to the hospital where they monitored me and gave me an ultrasound which showed that I wasn’t dilating or effacing. At my next obstetrician appointment my doctor said I had irritable uterus and he would send me for extra scans to make sure I wasn’t at risk of premature delivery.
The period cramps stopped after a while once I began to rest up but I was still having lots of Braxton Hicks Contractions pretty much the whole pregnancy (very inconvenient and uncomfortable, but after a while they just became the norm for me and I got on with things).
At the next scan, it showed that my cervix was still long and closed which was terrific news. But since this was an internal scan it picked up something that the 19 week scan missed – I had placenta previa. I was a bit upset because I was convinced I would have to have a Caesarian Section instead of a natural birth. However at the 36 week scan it showed that even though the placenta was still low-lying, it was far enough away from the cervix for a vaginal birth!
Another issue that I was worried about was the fact that when Emilie was born at 37 weeks, her placenta had aged prematurely – it was calicified – and it was at the same condition as what a 42 week placenta would have been. (No, I’m not a smoker! It was just one of those things!)
So as I was nearing 37 weeks I was watching for every little sign that something could have gone wrong with my baby. Even though my 36 week scan showed that the placenta looked quite healthy.
At 37+4 weeks I noticed that I hadn’t felt the baby move for most of the day, and the movements I did feel were very weak. At 37+5 weeks I still hadn’t felt her move much so I called the birth hospital. They advised to come in for a CTG to monitor the baby’s heart rate and count kicks. The CTG showed that baby’s heart rate was normal, even though she wasn’t moving much.
At my obstetrician appointment the next day, my doctor discussed this with me and said that it sometimes babies can go very quiet just before they are born, but considering the history with Emilie’s placenta I needed to keep a close eye on things. He talked about induction on Wednesday, but I said my husband was working away until the following Tuesday and I would prefer to keep growing the baby unless things took a turn for the worst. He said that was fine but wanted me to have a CTG every second day until birth and to count kicks religiously.
That night, before I went to bed I prayed over my baby and asked God to protect her and to have her delivered safely and soundly into my arms. I prayed that if this was the proper time for her to be born then let it happen before my doctor says I needed to be induced. I talked to Paul on the phone and let him know that he may have to organise a flight home and to talk to his boss the next day.
At midnight I woke with a period-like cramp that went away after a bit. I thought, “hmm I wonder if this is the start of something?” and went back to sleep. I woke again just after 1am with another cramp, and fell asleep again. Again I woke after 2am and again after 3am. Once I woke at 3am I couldn’t get back to sleep. (I didn’t know at the time, but Paul later told me that he had woken at 3am and hadn’t been able to sleep either!) I had another contraction just after 4am and I had two more contractions in the space of an hour.
At 5:30am I couldn’t wait any longer and I messaged Paul. “Sorry to disturb you so early, just wanted to tell you that I’ve been having contractions all night average of one per hour, they don’t last long, only about 10-15 seconds but painful/intense enough to wake me up. The last two were half an hour apart. I’m thinking of asking them to examine me to see if I’m dilating when I go in this morning and do you think I should officially time them or not worry about it just yet?”
Paul texted back saying “Start timing them and discuss it with the doc and let me know ASAP xxx”
So I dropped Emilie off at my Auntie Susan’s house and went to the hospital for the CTG. The contractions were coming around every half hour. When I got to the hospital I went in to the examination room where I was hooked up.
Paul called me as the midwife was hooking me up and told me he was getting on a plane now. I said “ok, call me and I’ll let you know whether I can come to pick you up or not”.
I told the young midwife that was monitoring me that I had been having contractions and could I have an internal exam to see if I was dilating? She said, “well nothing is showing up on the trace, and if I give you an internal it just increases the risk of infection. You can be 2 to 2.5 cm dilated for weeks before birth so it wouldn’t really give us any clue as to what is happening”.
So after the CTG (which showed baby’s heart rate was still fine) I walked out to the car and as I got to the car I had another contraction!! Typical!
I drove back to Susan’s house to pick up Emilie and ended up staying there waiting for Paul to call. I was sitting on Susan’s couch and as I had a contraction Susan said “I can see you are having a contraction right now!” We decided to time the contractions and they were ranging from 8 minutes to 20 minutes apart.
Paul called me at around lunch time and I went to pick him up. By the time I got to the airport the contractions were around 10-15 minutes apart and becoming more painful.
That afternoon I was still having them but they weren’t really very regular and if I sat or lay down they stopped. I decided to have an afternoon sleep while Emilie had her nap. When we woke up the contractions had stopped. I was so disappointed, so I sat on my birth ball and with my breast pump I did about 20 minutes of stimulation which made me have really intense Braxton Hicks every 5 minutes. I stood up to go to the toilet and I had a massive contraction where I could actually feel the pressure pushing the baby down!
When I went to the toilet there was a mucous plug on my pad (I had been losing it for about a week or two) and it was tinged with blood.
We decided to go for a walk to see if it would make things progress. We walked (I waddled) around the block and the contractions were really close together so I had to keep stopping when I had one. Just before we got back home they were around 2 minutes apart but still only lasting about 20 seconds each and not that painful, just intense. Once we got home at around 4pm I had two contractions in the space of 20 minutes and then NOTHING! I was really tired from trying to make them come on that I gave up and just chilled for the rest of the night.
That night before going to bed I prayed again and I had a feeling that said, “you need this break to get some rest – you are going to need it for tomorrow” so I went to bed early and had a really good night’s sleep.
The next morning I woke and I was having only mild period-pain contractions around every 20 minutes and regular. I hadn’t felt the baby move. I texted my obstetrician and asked told him the situation and he called me back and told me he was at the hospital and he could examine me and break my waters if that’s what we wanted? I said Paul and I had discussed it and would like to have my waters broken. He said there was room for me to come in.
So I told Paul, “Let’s get my bags and we’ll call Susan to meet us at the hospital”. Paul said, “ok, I’m just going to go to the shops and get some milk”. I said, “WHAT?! No, the doctor wants us there now!” But he insisted we needed milk, so he dressed Emilie and off they went to the shops! I grabbed my hospital bags and Emilie’s bags and went to put them in the car but he had taken the keys with him!!! I was getting really anxious! I had to tell myself to calm down.
I called Susan and asked her to meet us at the hospital. I called my mum and she said she would drive up from Mount Barker (which is around 4 hours from Perth). I also called my other birth partner, my sister, Alyssa. After what seemed like forever, Paul came back and we headed off. Susan met us at the hospital shortly after we arrived. I said goodbye to Emilie and gave her a kiss and cuddle and they went. Paul decided to go and have something to eat. He said he wouldn’t be long…
Then I was hooked up to a CTG. I was having weak and irregular contractions about 5-10 minutes apart that reached about 70-80 on the toco. The baby’s heart rate was ok – around 140-145bpm but she wasn’t moving and there was no fluctuation of the heart rate.
My obstetrician came in and said “oh, are you on your own?” I said, “no, my husband got flown home yesterday but he’s gone to have lunch!” Doc said, “Would you like me to wait for him?” I said, “no!”
So at 12 noon, the doctor did an internal – I was already 4cm dilated (established labour) and 75% effaced! The midwife Sonya held my hand as the doctor ruptured the membranes. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be! Only seconds later I had my strongest contraction yet – it reached about 120 on the toco and I knew this would get things moving along! The doctor said he would come back in a few minutes to hook me up to the syntocin drip but I asked if he would give my body a chance to progress on its own now that my membranes had been ruptured. He said he would give me until 3pm to progress on my own and then if I hadn't progressed he would have to put me on the drip.
The doctor instructed Sonya to check the baby’s heart for ten minutes every hour and left. I was hooked back up to the CTG to see how the baby was faring after the breaking of waters. The baby was still not moving but her heart rate was still fine. The contractions were coming on a bit more intense now and around 5 minutes apart. Paul finally came back from lunch. He had called my mum and she had said that she had more things to pack (even though she told me the night before that she was ready to jump in the car whenever I called her) and she would be leaving Mt Barker at 2pm at the earliest.
Then about 15 minutes later baby woke up a bit and Sonya was happy to disconnect me from the CTG and I was free to walk around.
I asked for a birth ball and I bounced on that for a bit. But I found that the contractions would come more regularly if I was walking around the room. They slowed if I was on the ball. Sonya said to do a combination of both since walking promotes the contractions but bouncing on the ball opens the pelvis and helps the baby come further down.
There was a shift change and who should come in but the midwife from yesterday! Her name is Georgie. I said, “I told you I was having contractions!” She said, “Hello! I can’t believe you were already 4cm dilated!” I laughed and said, “Yes, and you didn’t believe me yesterday!!!” We had a good chuckle.
Just after 1pm I was hooked back up to the CTG lying down and the contractions stopped completely. Baby was happy, heart rate was fine. The contractions started back up when I got back up off the bed. So I continued to walk around, the pain was bearable but getting more intense. They were 5 minutes apart and lasting around a minute each.
An hour after the last CTG I was hooked up again but this time I asked to stand while hooked up. This time the contractions were definitely showing on the trace and I had a few that I had to breathe through. They were different to the contractions I felt when in labour with Emilie. These ones had more of a bite to them with a very sharp pain at the peak.
Baby was still happy and Paul and I decided to go for a walk around the labour ward. Alyssa texted me and asked if she should come to the hospital yet (she was in the middle of a court trial and couldn’t get away). I said the contractions were still bearable and I was still ok.
Paul and I did three laps of the labour ward and the pain was getting worse so I headed back to my room. Contractions were now around 2-4 minutes apart and lasting around a minute each. They peaked very quickly and came down slowly.
Then I asked if I could get in the shower. So Georgie got the temperature ready for me and Paul joined me in the shower. I sat on the commode and Paul put the shower head directly on my lower belly and it made the contractions so much easier to bear. But sitting down made the contractions stop again. 3pm was getting nearer and I was really willing my body to keep the contractions coming so I didn’t have to go on the drip. So if I hadn’t felt a contraction for 5 minutes I stood up from the commode which immediately brought one on.
Sonya wanted to check the baby’s heartrate with the Doppler and we decided to check progress at the same time, so after a contraction we hurried to the bed where I was checked and I was 6cm and completely effaced, so all I needed to do now was dilate. I got back into the shower after another contraction.
I was starting to feel like I was losing energy so I asked for one of the icypoles I had brought. Georgie brought me a raspberry flavour one and it was so good! It was while I was eating the icypole that I realised the contractions were coming even when I was sitting down! I asked what the time was and I was told 2:50pm and they were about to call my obstetrician and let him know I was progressing great and didn’t need the drip! Yay! By this stage I was unable to sit on the commode during a contraction, I had to hold onto the bars at the side of the shower while Paul held the shower head on my belly and I lifted myself off the commode to alleviate the pressure I felt during the contraction.
Some of the visualisations that worked at this stage for me were:
-Thinking of the train in Dumbo that goes “I think I can, I think I can, I. THINK. I. CAN. I…. thought I could I thought I could” LOL
- Picturing Emilie’s face smiling at me and remembering her as a newborn.
-Riding on a rainbow rollercoaster going up, up, up, then down the other side
Corny I know but it worked for a while!
Georgie asked if I would like to try the bath and I agreed, so she went and ran the bath. When it was ready we waited for one contraction to finish and then we raced across the hall with a towel crudely draped over me! I got into the bath and it was lovely… until a contraction came on and I immediately wished I was back in the shower. It was awful! It was the first contraction that I panicked with and felt out of control and I was writhing around in the bath screaming “NO, NO, NO, NO”
Sonya and Georgie tried to massage my lower back but I hated it. I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I am a bit fuzzy from this point onwards so I can’t really remember but I was later told that I was saying things like, “pleeeeeease give me an epidural” and “I don’t want to do this anymore, let’s go home so I can have a sleep” and according to Paul I swore only the once.
I told the midwives I wanted to get back in the shower so after one contraction I quickly got out and raced back across the hall with my towel, back to my room and straight back into the shower. But I wasn’t in there for long until I started feeling the urge to push. I said “it can’t be, it can’t be, it’s too soon…” and Sonya said, “why can’t it be?” so she said she would check me again. I got back up on the bed again and I was 9cm! Oh how I wished I was 10cm!!!
I said, “oh no, how much longer have I got to go?” and she said only a few more contractions and I’ll be there. I wanted to get on all fours so they helped me to turn around on the bed and I held onto the bar at the top of the bed and pulled down on it when a contraction came. I was coping by moaning “no, no, no, no, no, no, yes, yes, yes” over and over. (“No” when the contraction was climbing and “yes” when it was coming down).
Only a short time later I got the unbearable feeling to push and I told Sonya. I pushed while I was pulling down on the bar (I was supposed to resist the urge to push until the baby’s head was all the way down due to haemorrhoids but I couldn’t help it, I told Sonya “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE HEMORROIDS I JUST WANT TO PUUUUUUSH!!!”)
I was getting nowhere in that position and it was complete agony. I was tiring really quickly and my legs were like jelly. Paul was fanning me with a wet flannel and in between one contraction to the next he swapped sides of the bed and I yelled at him to keep fanning me. He said, “well my arm was getting tired bending all the way over the bed” and I said “BOO FRIGGIN HOO!” and the midwives giggled so I told them to shut up it wasn’t funny.
I panicked during another contraction because I couldn’t find the right position to push in so I finally said I wanted to lay on my back to push and the midwives readily agreed since when I was bearing down I was squatting so low to the bed they couldn’t see whether the baby was coming down. I knew the baby wasn’t coming down at all and I could actually feel her sucking back up after each contraction.
Once I was on my back things went a lot better. I could anchor my feet to the bed with my knees bent while Paul held my right leg and Georgie held my left leg. They both held my hands so I could put my chin to my chest and push. The first few contractions I was yelling/grunting as I pushed and an older midwife who had come in for the delivery kept telling me to stop making noises and use the energy to push. In between one contraction I remember looking up into Paul’s eyes and he was encouraging me and it gave me the strength to keep going. Once I got into the rhythm of it and used my energy to push and not yell I could feel her starting to crown, but I lost steam half way during the contraction and she sucked back up. The old midwife stretched my perineum and told me to stop because my old episiotomy scar was too thick and was going to have a nasty tear, so she quickly gave me some anaesthetic and did the episiotomy.
The next contraction I felt her crowning again and I yelled “MY VAGINA HURTS!” and the old midwife told me to keep pushing, another one, another one, and after what felt like a million pushes her head was birthed and everyone “AWWWWed” Well done, they all said and I reached down and touched her head. It was slimy and I could feel the little hairs. I couldn’t feel her face because she was obviously facing my tailbone but just the feel of her head gave me the drive to give birth to her!
Next contraction I really used every ounce of strength to push, push, push and finally she was born at 5:06pm and put straight onto my chest! She pooed as she came out so there was meconium and blood and vernix everywhere but she was here! When the cord had stopped pulsating, Paul cut her cord.
While I was recovering and gazing upon my beautiful newborn Sonya was massaging my tummy for a natural third stage but Georgie drew up a shot of syntocin just in case they had to get the placenta out quicker. But ten minutes later I birthed the placenta without the need for any syntocin! So I had a drug free, natural third stage birth – not even gas and air.
Around 15 minutes after Cadence was born, my obstetrician arrived and stitched up my episiotomy. When he was done Alyssa was allowed in (I later realised that she messaged me 2 minutes after Cadence was born saying “I’m here” LOL) and Georgie helped Cadence to attach to my nipple for the first feed. It took a while to get her going but she eventually latched and fed. When she was done she was weighed and measured – 3440g (7lb9oz), Length 48cm and Head Circumference 34.5cm.
She was wiped, swaddled and had some cuddles with daddy. Then Alyssa had some cuddles while Paul helped me have a shower.
I’m so proud of myself for going drug-free. Although it’s what I wanted to do I totally doubted that I could do it, but I’m so surprised that I actually made it!
If you made it to the end of my story, thanks for reading!
After fertility problems before conceiving our first daughter, Emilie, my husband Paul and I were delighted to find out that we were expecting our second child on the first try! (It was the second month of trying to conceive, but we had missed the ovulation boat the first month due to Paul being away at work).
I had experienced morning sickness much worse than with Emilie, which made me think I could be carrying a boy this time. Paul and I were hopeful. We thought having a little boy would be lovely, but of course we just wanted a healthy baby. We both decided we would find out the sex of the baby at the 19 week scan. The morning of the scan, Paul and Emilie were lying in bed together while I got dressed and I asked Paul, “would you be disappointed if we were having another girl?” Paul leaned over and kissed Emilie on the head and said, “no way!” Secretly I was hoping for another little princess! I already knew I wanted to name her Cadence!
The scan revealed that we were expecting another daughter! We were both so excited!
A few days later, Paul and I were doing some work renovating our home and I started getting period-like cramps. I didn’t think much of them until they started getting really painful and I got breathless so I decided to time them and they were around 15 minutes apart. This really scared me, so Paul took me to the hospital where they monitored me and gave me an ultrasound which showed that I wasn’t dilating or effacing. At my next obstetrician appointment my doctor said I had irritable uterus and he would send me for extra scans to make sure I wasn’t at risk of premature delivery.
The period cramps stopped after a while once I began to rest up but I was still having lots of Braxton Hicks Contractions pretty much the whole pregnancy (very inconvenient and uncomfortable, but after a while they just became the norm for me and I got on with things).
At the next scan, it showed that my cervix was still long and closed which was terrific news. But since this was an internal scan it picked up something that the 19 week scan missed – I had placenta previa. I was a bit upset because I was convinced I would have to have a Caesarian Section instead of a natural birth. However at the 36 week scan it showed that even though the placenta was still low-lying, it was far enough away from the cervix for a vaginal birth!
Another issue that I was worried about was the fact that when Emilie was born at 37 weeks, her placenta had aged prematurely – it was calicified – and it was at the same condition as what a 42 week placenta would have been. (No, I’m not a smoker! It was just one of those things!)
So as I was nearing 37 weeks I was watching for every little sign that something could have gone wrong with my baby. Even though my 36 week scan showed that the placenta looked quite healthy.
At 37+4 weeks I noticed that I hadn’t felt the baby move for most of the day, and the movements I did feel were very weak. At 37+5 weeks I still hadn’t felt her move much so I called the birth hospital. They advised to come in for a CTG to monitor the baby’s heart rate and count kicks. The CTG showed that baby’s heart rate was normal, even though she wasn’t moving much.
At my obstetrician appointment the next day, my doctor discussed this with me and said that it sometimes babies can go very quiet just before they are born, but considering the history with Emilie’s placenta I needed to keep a close eye on things. He talked about induction on Wednesday, but I said my husband was working away until the following Tuesday and I would prefer to keep growing the baby unless things took a turn for the worst. He said that was fine but wanted me to have a CTG every second day until birth and to count kicks religiously.
That night, before I went to bed I prayed over my baby and asked God to protect her and to have her delivered safely and soundly into my arms. I prayed that if this was the proper time for her to be born then let it happen before my doctor says I needed to be induced. I talked to Paul on the phone and let him know that he may have to organise a flight home and to talk to his boss the next day.
At midnight I woke with a period-like cramp that went away after a bit. I thought, “hmm I wonder if this is the start of something?” and went back to sleep. I woke again just after 1am with another cramp, and fell asleep again. Again I woke after 2am and again after 3am. Once I woke at 3am I couldn’t get back to sleep. (I didn’t know at the time, but Paul later told me that he had woken at 3am and hadn’t been able to sleep either!) I had another contraction just after 4am and I had two more contractions in the space of an hour.
At 5:30am I couldn’t wait any longer and I messaged Paul. “Sorry to disturb you so early, just wanted to tell you that I’ve been having contractions all night average of one per hour, they don’t last long, only about 10-15 seconds but painful/intense enough to wake me up. The last two were half an hour apart. I’m thinking of asking them to examine me to see if I’m dilating when I go in this morning and do you think I should officially time them or not worry about it just yet?”
Paul texted back saying “Start timing them and discuss it with the doc and let me know ASAP xxx”
So I dropped Emilie off at my Auntie Susan’s house and went to the hospital for the CTG. The contractions were coming around every half hour. When I got to the hospital I went in to the examination room where I was hooked up.
Paul called me as the midwife was hooking me up and told me he was getting on a plane now. I said “ok, call me and I’ll let you know whether I can come to pick you up or not”.
I told the young midwife that was monitoring me that I had been having contractions and could I have an internal exam to see if I was dilating? She said, “well nothing is showing up on the trace, and if I give you an internal it just increases the risk of infection. You can be 2 to 2.5 cm dilated for weeks before birth so it wouldn’t really give us any clue as to what is happening”.
So after the CTG (which showed baby’s heart rate was still fine) I walked out to the car and as I got to the car I had another contraction!! Typical!
I drove back to Susan’s house to pick up Emilie and ended up staying there waiting for Paul to call. I was sitting on Susan’s couch and as I had a contraction Susan said “I can see you are having a contraction right now!” We decided to time the contractions and they were ranging from 8 minutes to 20 minutes apart.
Paul called me at around lunch time and I went to pick him up. By the time I got to the airport the contractions were around 10-15 minutes apart and becoming more painful.
That afternoon I was still having them but they weren’t really very regular and if I sat or lay down they stopped. I decided to have an afternoon sleep while Emilie had her nap. When we woke up the contractions had stopped. I was so disappointed, so I sat on my birth ball and with my breast pump I did about 20 minutes of stimulation which made me have really intense Braxton Hicks every 5 minutes. I stood up to go to the toilet and I had a massive contraction where I could actually feel the pressure pushing the baby down!
When I went to the toilet there was a mucous plug on my pad (I had been losing it for about a week or two) and it was tinged with blood.
We decided to go for a walk to see if it would make things progress. We walked (I waddled) around the block and the contractions were really close together so I had to keep stopping when I had one. Just before we got back home they were around 2 minutes apart but still only lasting about 20 seconds each and not that painful, just intense. Once we got home at around 4pm I had two contractions in the space of 20 minutes and then NOTHING! I was really tired from trying to make them come on that I gave up and just chilled for the rest of the night.
That night before going to bed I prayed again and I had a feeling that said, “you need this break to get some rest – you are going to need it for tomorrow” so I went to bed early and had a really good night’s sleep.
The next morning I woke and I was having only mild period-pain contractions around every 20 minutes and regular. I hadn’t felt the baby move. I texted my obstetrician and asked told him the situation and he called me back and told me he was at the hospital and he could examine me and break my waters if that’s what we wanted? I said Paul and I had discussed it and would like to have my waters broken. He said there was room for me to come in.
So I told Paul, “Let’s get my bags and we’ll call Susan to meet us at the hospital”. Paul said, “ok, I’m just going to go to the shops and get some milk”. I said, “WHAT?! No, the doctor wants us there now!” But he insisted we needed milk, so he dressed Emilie and off they went to the shops! I grabbed my hospital bags and Emilie’s bags and went to put them in the car but he had taken the keys with him!!! I was getting really anxious! I had to tell myself to calm down.
I called Susan and asked her to meet us at the hospital. I called my mum and she said she would drive up from Mount Barker (which is around 4 hours from Perth). I also called my other birth partner, my sister, Alyssa. After what seemed like forever, Paul came back and we headed off. Susan met us at the hospital shortly after we arrived. I said goodbye to Emilie and gave her a kiss and cuddle and they went. Paul decided to go and have something to eat. He said he wouldn’t be long…
Then I was hooked up to a CTG. I was having weak and irregular contractions about 5-10 minutes apart that reached about 70-80 on the toco. The baby’s heart rate was ok – around 140-145bpm but she wasn’t moving and there was no fluctuation of the heart rate.
My obstetrician came in and said “oh, are you on your own?” I said, “no, my husband got flown home yesterday but he’s gone to have lunch!” Doc said, “Would you like me to wait for him?” I said, “no!”
So at 12 noon, the doctor did an internal – I was already 4cm dilated (established labour) and 75% effaced! The midwife Sonya held my hand as the doctor ruptured the membranes. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be! Only seconds later I had my strongest contraction yet – it reached about 120 on the toco and I knew this would get things moving along! The doctor said he would come back in a few minutes to hook me up to the syntocin drip but I asked if he would give my body a chance to progress on its own now that my membranes had been ruptured. He said he would give me until 3pm to progress on my own and then if I hadn't progressed he would have to put me on the drip.
The doctor instructed Sonya to check the baby’s heart for ten minutes every hour and left. I was hooked back up to the CTG to see how the baby was faring after the breaking of waters. The baby was still not moving but her heart rate was still fine. The contractions were coming on a bit more intense now and around 5 minutes apart. Paul finally came back from lunch. He had called my mum and she had said that she had more things to pack (even though she told me the night before that she was ready to jump in the car whenever I called her) and she would be leaving Mt Barker at 2pm at the earliest.
Then about 15 minutes later baby woke up a bit and Sonya was happy to disconnect me from the CTG and I was free to walk around.
I asked for a birth ball and I bounced on that for a bit. But I found that the contractions would come more regularly if I was walking around the room. They slowed if I was on the ball. Sonya said to do a combination of both since walking promotes the contractions but bouncing on the ball opens the pelvis and helps the baby come further down.
There was a shift change and who should come in but the midwife from yesterday! Her name is Georgie. I said, “I told you I was having contractions!” She said, “Hello! I can’t believe you were already 4cm dilated!” I laughed and said, “Yes, and you didn’t believe me yesterday!!!” We had a good chuckle.
Just after 1pm I was hooked back up to the CTG lying down and the contractions stopped completely. Baby was happy, heart rate was fine. The contractions started back up when I got back up off the bed. So I continued to walk around, the pain was bearable but getting more intense. They were 5 minutes apart and lasting around a minute each.
An hour after the last CTG I was hooked up again but this time I asked to stand while hooked up. This time the contractions were definitely showing on the trace and I had a few that I had to breathe through. They were different to the contractions I felt when in labour with Emilie. These ones had more of a bite to them with a very sharp pain at the peak.
Baby was still happy and Paul and I decided to go for a walk around the labour ward. Alyssa texted me and asked if she should come to the hospital yet (she was in the middle of a court trial and couldn’t get away). I said the contractions were still bearable and I was still ok.
Paul and I did three laps of the labour ward and the pain was getting worse so I headed back to my room. Contractions were now around 2-4 minutes apart and lasting around a minute each. They peaked very quickly and came down slowly.
Then I asked if I could get in the shower. So Georgie got the temperature ready for me and Paul joined me in the shower. I sat on the commode and Paul put the shower head directly on my lower belly and it made the contractions so much easier to bear. But sitting down made the contractions stop again. 3pm was getting nearer and I was really willing my body to keep the contractions coming so I didn’t have to go on the drip. So if I hadn’t felt a contraction for 5 minutes I stood up from the commode which immediately brought one on.
Sonya wanted to check the baby’s heartrate with the Doppler and we decided to check progress at the same time, so after a contraction we hurried to the bed where I was checked and I was 6cm and completely effaced, so all I needed to do now was dilate. I got back into the shower after another contraction.
I was starting to feel like I was losing energy so I asked for one of the icypoles I had brought. Georgie brought me a raspberry flavour one and it was so good! It was while I was eating the icypole that I realised the contractions were coming even when I was sitting down! I asked what the time was and I was told 2:50pm and they were about to call my obstetrician and let him know I was progressing great and didn’t need the drip! Yay! By this stage I was unable to sit on the commode during a contraction, I had to hold onto the bars at the side of the shower while Paul held the shower head on my belly and I lifted myself off the commode to alleviate the pressure I felt during the contraction.
Some of the visualisations that worked at this stage for me were:
-Thinking of the train in Dumbo that goes “I think I can, I think I can, I. THINK. I. CAN. I…. thought I could I thought I could” LOL
- Picturing Emilie’s face smiling at me and remembering her as a newborn.
-Riding on a rainbow rollercoaster going up, up, up, then down the other side
Corny I know but it worked for a while!
Georgie asked if I would like to try the bath and I agreed, so she went and ran the bath. When it was ready we waited for one contraction to finish and then we raced across the hall with a towel crudely draped over me! I got into the bath and it was lovely… until a contraction came on and I immediately wished I was back in the shower. It was awful! It was the first contraction that I panicked with and felt out of control and I was writhing around in the bath screaming “NO, NO, NO, NO”
Sonya and Georgie tried to massage my lower back but I hated it. I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I am a bit fuzzy from this point onwards so I can’t really remember but I was later told that I was saying things like, “pleeeeeease give me an epidural” and “I don’t want to do this anymore, let’s go home so I can have a sleep” and according to Paul I swore only the once.
I told the midwives I wanted to get back in the shower so after one contraction I quickly got out and raced back across the hall with my towel, back to my room and straight back into the shower. But I wasn’t in there for long until I started feeling the urge to push. I said “it can’t be, it can’t be, it’s too soon…” and Sonya said, “why can’t it be?” so she said she would check me again. I got back up on the bed again and I was 9cm! Oh how I wished I was 10cm!!!
I said, “oh no, how much longer have I got to go?” and she said only a few more contractions and I’ll be there. I wanted to get on all fours so they helped me to turn around on the bed and I held onto the bar at the top of the bed and pulled down on it when a contraction came. I was coping by moaning “no, no, no, no, no, no, yes, yes, yes” over and over. (“No” when the contraction was climbing and “yes” when it was coming down).
Only a short time later I got the unbearable feeling to push and I told Sonya. I pushed while I was pulling down on the bar (I was supposed to resist the urge to push until the baby’s head was all the way down due to haemorrhoids but I couldn’t help it, I told Sonya “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE HEMORROIDS I JUST WANT TO PUUUUUUSH!!!”)
I was getting nowhere in that position and it was complete agony. I was tiring really quickly and my legs were like jelly. Paul was fanning me with a wet flannel and in between one contraction to the next he swapped sides of the bed and I yelled at him to keep fanning me. He said, “well my arm was getting tired bending all the way over the bed” and I said “BOO FRIGGIN HOO!” and the midwives giggled so I told them to shut up it wasn’t funny.
I panicked during another contraction because I couldn’t find the right position to push in so I finally said I wanted to lay on my back to push and the midwives readily agreed since when I was bearing down I was squatting so low to the bed they couldn’t see whether the baby was coming down. I knew the baby wasn’t coming down at all and I could actually feel her sucking back up after each contraction.
Once I was on my back things went a lot better. I could anchor my feet to the bed with my knees bent while Paul held my right leg and Georgie held my left leg. They both held my hands so I could put my chin to my chest and push. The first few contractions I was yelling/grunting as I pushed and an older midwife who had come in for the delivery kept telling me to stop making noises and use the energy to push. In between one contraction I remember looking up into Paul’s eyes and he was encouraging me and it gave me the strength to keep going. Once I got into the rhythm of it and used my energy to push and not yell I could feel her starting to crown, but I lost steam half way during the contraction and she sucked back up. The old midwife stretched my perineum and told me to stop because my old episiotomy scar was too thick and was going to have a nasty tear, so she quickly gave me some anaesthetic and did the episiotomy.
The next contraction I felt her crowning again and I yelled “MY VAGINA HURTS!” and the old midwife told me to keep pushing, another one, another one, and after what felt like a million pushes her head was birthed and everyone “AWWWWed” Well done, they all said and I reached down and touched her head. It was slimy and I could feel the little hairs. I couldn’t feel her face because she was obviously facing my tailbone but just the feel of her head gave me the drive to give birth to her!
Next contraction I really used every ounce of strength to push, push, push and finally she was born at 5:06pm and put straight onto my chest! She pooed as she came out so there was meconium and blood and vernix everywhere but she was here! When the cord had stopped pulsating, Paul cut her cord.
While I was recovering and gazing upon my beautiful newborn Sonya was massaging my tummy for a natural third stage but Georgie drew up a shot of syntocin just in case they had to get the placenta out quicker. But ten minutes later I birthed the placenta without the need for any syntocin! So I had a drug free, natural third stage birth – not even gas and air.
Around 15 minutes after Cadence was born, my obstetrician arrived and stitched up my episiotomy. When he was done Alyssa was allowed in (I later realised that she messaged me 2 minutes after Cadence was born saying “I’m here” LOL) and Georgie helped Cadence to attach to my nipple for the first feed. It took a while to get her going but she eventually latched and fed. When she was done she was weighed and measured – 3440g (7lb9oz), Length 48cm and Head Circumference 34.5cm.
She was wiped, swaddled and had some cuddles with daddy. Then Alyssa had some cuddles while Paul helped me have a shower.
I’m so proud of myself for going drug-free. Although it’s what I wanted to do I totally doubted that I could do it, but I’m so surprised that I actually made it!
If you made it to the end of my story, thanks for reading!
Realising there is a problem
I think half the battle was actually realising or maybe admitting there was a problem. To be completely honest, I think there was a problem wayyy before Cadence was born. Maybe even before Emilie was born, but it would have just manifested itself in a different way.
There have been traumatising events in my life, even before kids, that I have never dealt with. My way of coping is to push it as far as possible to the back of my mind and try to erase it from existance without dealing with it. So of course every little thing has just piled up on top of the last until something's gotta give.
I have always had the "stiff upper lip" approach. Be grateful for the pro's and ignore the con's in life. Someone is always worse off than you. Which is true. I still feel like it is a cop out by saying that maybe everything is relative and even though I am more fortunate than 99% of the world's population, I still have good reason to be depressed or anxious? I feel like a wimp, though!
So this is how I ended up getting help: I have been feeling "not myself" for a long, long time. I didn't realise how deep I was in, until I tried to climb out. At the six week check-up for Cadence and me, I said to my obstetrician, "I am not feeling like myself, I feel strange... could I possibly have PND or PNA?" I think he could just sense it because he referred me straight away. Even then, I was still partially in denial. I thought "they will think I'm silly." But something just wasn't right. And that something had been there since Cadence was about 6 weeks gestation and I started to get very bad morning sickness. I had started to resent her even though her tiny heart had only just begun beating. I regretted getting pregnant and I wanted it to go away. I'm pretty sure I suffered from pre-natal depression/anxiety.
It feels surreal to be typing this, late at night, one-handed, while Cadence lays in my other arm and I am just beginning to enjoy her... she has no idea of what I am writing about her, I feel sad for this. She is yet to develop the concept of resentment. She is happy to smile at me and watch my face while I sit here typing my darkest feelings about her. I feel like the worst mum. Will she read this one day? How will she feel when she discovers how I felt about her?
My pregnancy with her was rocky. I started getting contractions at 19 weeks and rushed to hospital thinking the worst. Fortunately, I wasn't dilating yet, but needed 6 weeks of partial bed rest (taking it as easy as possible without being confined to bed completely). Even after I had come off bed rest, for the rest of my pregnancy, doing most day-to-day things brought on either contractions or Braxton Hicks contractions. I resented the baby inside me for not being able to do the regular things that needed to be done, especially considering we were renovating at the time and it was very frustrating not to be an extra pair of hands to get things done.
I also had placenta previa (placenta was too close to the cervix) which had caused bleeding during my pregnancy. (Fortunately it moved before the birth). By 30 weeks, I had such painful hemmorhoids, one of which had thrombosed and then ruptured, which was excruciating. I remember thinking "I just want the baby OUT. I don't care if it is sick from being premature. I just want it GONE". It was an awful feeling to have.
We made it to 38 weeks 1 day! Her birth was fantastic and a miraculous thing happened. I totally bonded with her! All of my resentment melted away. During labour I was like a lioness! I just did what my body told me to do and just after I birthed her head I reached down and caressed her. One more push and she was out. (I will post my birth story another time).
I was totally in love with her for the first few days. Then I got home. And reality hit. Even though Paul was fantastic and just did everything so that I didn't have to lift a finger, the resentment towards Cadence came creeping back. I got mastitis. My "down there" stitches got infected. She had feeding problems and breathing problems. She was ALWAYS crying. Emilie was being naughty all the time and had all of a sudden decided to drop her day sleep. Things were SHIT.
To be honest, there were underlying issues outside of the home as well, which just made me unable to cope with the rockiness at home.
Whatever start of a bond that had begun, vanished. One night Cadence was crying and crying and crying and she wouldn't latch onto my breast, my blood pressure rose to a level that I nearly hurled her across the room, but whatever maternal instinct was left inside dumped her on Paul and I ran into the bedroom bawling my eyes out.
I think that was the point at which I knew something wasn't right. I felt so guilty about feeling that way. About having the desire to hurt my own flesh and blood. A helpless baby who probably didn't know why she felt so shit either.
She felt so shit because of GORD - Gastro Oesphageal Reflux Disorder - most commonly known as reflux. Once she started on medication she slowly got better. But I didn't. I asked myself "why don't I feel better now that Cadence isn't crying all the time now? Why do I still feel stressed even though feeding times are now easier? Why do I still feel exhausted even though she is now sleeping better at night?" And that made me feel even worse because now I didn't have a "reason" why I was feeling horrible and why I still resented my baby. That is how I ended up asking my obstetrician for help.
I had the 8 week Community Health Nurse check-up and I did the PND/PNA screening test. I scored 17 (anything above 10 is positive for PND/PNA). I told the CHN that I already had a care plan in place and I had an upcoming appointment with the psychologist.
After the 4th meeting with the psychologist I had a friend post the link to the same screening test online. I decided to take the test again out of interest and I scored 21. Which is worse than my previous score.
Today I did the test again and scored 23... am I getting worse???
Along the way we have found Cadence suffers from a few other medical conidtions too which I will talk about in another post.And at my latest session with SB, we came to the realisation that I have separation anxiety from Emilie. I will talk about that in another post very soon.
It is going to be a long road to recovery. But I already have some understanding now of what is going on. Realising and admitting that something needs to change was the first step. Now I need to put some action into place. I have a few things that hopefully will help me get back to being me again.
-Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT) I am learning how to do this with SB the psychologist.
-Keeping a journal of my everyday anxiety visions and leaving a space underneath so I can "alter" my thought patterns - have been putting this off but I really should get started.
-Writing this blog
-Physical excersise every day to burn off the extra adrenaline.
-Spending time away from my kids to help me get over my separation anxiety from them... hmmm this is going to be the hardest one.
-Trying to get as much sleep as possible (this one will be hard too!)
There have been traumatising events in my life, even before kids, that I have never dealt with. My way of coping is to push it as far as possible to the back of my mind and try to erase it from existance without dealing with it. So of course every little thing has just piled up on top of the last until something's gotta give.
I have always had the "stiff upper lip" approach. Be grateful for the pro's and ignore the con's in life. Someone is always worse off than you. Which is true. I still feel like it is a cop out by saying that maybe everything is relative and even though I am more fortunate than 99% of the world's population, I still have good reason to be depressed or anxious? I feel like a wimp, though!
So this is how I ended up getting help: I have been feeling "not myself" for a long, long time. I didn't realise how deep I was in, until I tried to climb out. At the six week check-up for Cadence and me, I said to my obstetrician, "I am not feeling like myself, I feel strange... could I possibly have PND or PNA?" I think he could just sense it because he referred me straight away. Even then, I was still partially in denial. I thought "they will think I'm silly." But something just wasn't right. And that something had been there since Cadence was about 6 weeks gestation and I started to get very bad morning sickness. I had started to resent her even though her tiny heart had only just begun beating. I regretted getting pregnant and I wanted it to go away. I'm pretty sure I suffered from pre-natal depression/anxiety.
It feels surreal to be typing this, late at night, one-handed, while Cadence lays in my other arm and I am just beginning to enjoy her... she has no idea of what I am writing about her, I feel sad for this. She is yet to develop the concept of resentment. She is happy to smile at me and watch my face while I sit here typing my darkest feelings about her. I feel like the worst mum. Will she read this one day? How will she feel when she discovers how I felt about her?
My pregnancy with her was rocky. I started getting contractions at 19 weeks and rushed to hospital thinking the worst. Fortunately, I wasn't dilating yet, but needed 6 weeks of partial bed rest (taking it as easy as possible without being confined to bed completely). Even after I had come off bed rest, for the rest of my pregnancy, doing most day-to-day things brought on either contractions or Braxton Hicks contractions. I resented the baby inside me for not being able to do the regular things that needed to be done, especially considering we were renovating at the time and it was very frustrating not to be an extra pair of hands to get things done.
I also had placenta previa (placenta was too close to the cervix) which had caused bleeding during my pregnancy. (Fortunately it moved before the birth). By 30 weeks, I had such painful hemmorhoids, one of which had thrombosed and then ruptured, which was excruciating. I remember thinking "I just want the baby OUT. I don't care if it is sick from being premature. I just want it GONE". It was an awful feeling to have.
We made it to 38 weeks 1 day! Her birth was fantastic and a miraculous thing happened. I totally bonded with her! All of my resentment melted away. During labour I was like a lioness! I just did what my body told me to do and just after I birthed her head I reached down and caressed her. One more push and she was out. (I will post my birth story another time).
I was totally in love with her for the first few days. Then I got home. And reality hit. Even though Paul was fantastic and just did everything so that I didn't have to lift a finger, the resentment towards Cadence came creeping back. I got mastitis. My "down there" stitches got infected. She had feeding problems and breathing problems. She was ALWAYS crying. Emilie was being naughty all the time and had all of a sudden decided to drop her day sleep. Things were SHIT.
To be honest, there were underlying issues outside of the home as well, which just made me unable to cope with the rockiness at home.
Whatever start of a bond that had begun, vanished. One night Cadence was crying and crying and crying and she wouldn't latch onto my breast, my blood pressure rose to a level that I nearly hurled her across the room, but whatever maternal instinct was left inside dumped her on Paul and I ran into the bedroom bawling my eyes out.
I think that was the point at which I knew something wasn't right. I felt so guilty about feeling that way. About having the desire to hurt my own flesh and blood. A helpless baby who probably didn't know why she felt so shit either.
She felt so shit because of GORD - Gastro Oesphageal Reflux Disorder - most commonly known as reflux. Once she started on medication she slowly got better. But I didn't. I asked myself "why don't I feel better now that Cadence isn't crying all the time now? Why do I still feel stressed even though feeding times are now easier? Why do I still feel exhausted even though she is now sleeping better at night?" And that made me feel even worse because now I didn't have a "reason" why I was feeling horrible and why I still resented my baby. That is how I ended up asking my obstetrician for help.
I had the 8 week Community Health Nurse check-up and I did the PND/PNA screening test. I scored 17 (anything above 10 is positive for PND/PNA). I told the CHN that I already had a care plan in place and I had an upcoming appointment with the psychologist.
After the 4th meeting with the psychologist I had a friend post the link to the same screening test online. I decided to take the test again out of interest and I scored 21. Which is worse than my previous score.
Today I did the test again and scored 23... am I getting worse???
Along the way we have found Cadence suffers from a few other medical conidtions too which I will talk about in another post.And at my latest session with SB, we came to the realisation that I have separation anxiety from Emilie. I will talk about that in another post very soon.
It is going to be a long road to recovery. But I already have some understanding now of what is going on. Realising and admitting that something needs to change was the first step. Now I need to put some action into place. I have a few things that hopefully will help me get back to being me again.
-Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT) I am learning how to do this with SB the psychologist.
-Keeping a journal of my everyday anxiety visions and leaving a space underneath so I can "alter" my thought patterns - have been putting this off but I really should get started.
-Writing this blog
-Physical excersise every day to burn off the extra adrenaline.
-Spending time away from my kids to help me get over my separation anxiety from them... hmmm this is going to be the hardest one.
-Trying to get as much sleep as possible (this one will be hard too!)
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