Let me first start off by saying that this ("unplanned" if you will) pregnancy itself was never a source of the stress and turmoil that our family experienced. The final 4 weeks of this pregnancy were certainly MUCH harder (physically and emotionally) than with my previous 2, so that was something new for us to cope with - but the previous 8 months were hard for other reasons. It's strange... because it's not like anything super MAJOR went down - it's not like Ryan lost his job or we had a death/major illness in the family or anything like that - we still had a roof over our heads, cars to drive, food on the table, etc. etc. We had everything we needed. The pregnancy was not hard. LIFE was hard.
2017 started off with LOTS of sickness in our family (as I have mentioned before). Just a few day into my pregnancy I had a crazy high fever and tested positive for the flu. From January through the month of May, we had 10 sick visits to the dr/urgent care between myself and both kids - and it didn't even end there. Even before we really got deep into the summer I was already struggling with hormones and mood swings and just feeling isolated - which I expanded on here. Then July hit. July was filled with stressful events, a TON of sleep deprivation and I was completely over-committed and overwhelmed (especially with the kids out of preschool for the summer). I had no time to even think to myself.) I already felt like I had nothing left to give. To anyone - including myself.
July was very hard and stressful, and at the end of the month (immediately following a full weekend coordinating a wedding - when I thought we were FINALLY in the clear and done with stressful schedules and all of these illnesses) Ryan and Wells both caught a stomach bug. I can remember sitting down in our shower and sobbing uncontrollably for 30 minutes because I felt so alone. Hubby was sleeping in bed and I had just finished doing the dishes after feeding and bathing the kids and putting them down by myself (which at 5 months pregnant all of these things were physically very painful processes). I felt like no one in the world knew or understood what my life looked like at that time, and just how hard my day (life) had been. (And all of these things were literally just the tip of the iceberg...) I wasn't able to be a good mom or wife or friend. I was emotionally and physically unavailable. Focusing on my pregnancy was the LAST thing on my mind even though I so desperately wanted to embrace every single moment. I love LOVE growing babies but wasn't able to hardly think about it - which that in itself caused me a lot of grief and sadness. I was having a hard time just surviving each day and had ZERO sense of normalcy.
So I started seeing a therapist weekly (at a practice specifically centered around postpartum family health thanks to the recommendation of a friends therapist mom!) I was super nervous but also really excited to start this journey. It was weird though... because I didn't start seeing someone because I felt like I had this long list of issues I needed help working through, or like, I had some sort of traumatic event happen that I just couldn't cope with. Really, I just needed a friend more than anything. I needed some extra support and mostly, I just needed someone to listen to all of the crap I was dealing with. I just didn't have that strong support group that I had had with my second pregnancy. Some weeks have been more helpful than others. Sometimes I leave feeling SO much better and some weeks I feel leaving the same (or even more confused sometimes). But overall it has been a very positive experience. Also, based on my past two breastfeeding experiences, I know that breastfeeding hormones start bringing me down emotionally to a place where I just start feeling really blah and "flat" emotionally somewhere around the 6-9 months mark or so. I wanted to be proactive with that this time around so that was another reason I sought out therapy. My goal was(/is?) to continue with therapy, until I wean Cameron around 1 year (God willing).
Through therapy, I was able to begin connecting with my pregnancy, my baby and my body. Even though I feel like it never reached the levels that I was used to based on previous pregnancies, it felt good to at least have someone to talk to. She also helped me to carve out a little time for myself and discover some new self-care methods.
Following Cami's birth, there has been a LOT for me to process. Even though nothing truly traumatic happened, I feel like in a lot of ways I have had to process things as if there was some birth trauma there. I'm still trying to work through my feelings about the whole experience...(as well as some issues I have with the OB/healthcare system in general and what that's going to look like for me in the future).
We are ending the year with the most severe postpartum depression that I personally have ever experienced. I promise to expand on this very soon, because I feel so INSANELY called to share what I am going through. PPD is probably one of the most isolating things in the world and I would like to shed maybe a little tiny flicker of light onto it. We aren't out of the woods yet, but I hope we are at least on the upswing. I am so grateful that I already had a therapist in place and I am also SO so grateful for my husband - the true unsung hero through all of this. He has carried our entire family on his back this year, because I haven't had the strength to walk. Oh how I love him so.
2017 BROKE me. And I still have NO clue what God was/is trying to show me through this impossible year. Will I ever know? I'm not sure. Certainly all of this wasn't for nothing. I still really struggle with questioning God's timing and have a lot of "why now?/why then?" moments when looking back on everything. I can say that I have never been so happy to close the books on one single calendar year...but I just wish I could erase this past year. Or re-do it maybe. I'm not sure. I know He is doing something with this, right? Perhaps He is just trying to draw us closer to Him. Proving to me just how much I need Him.
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