Tag

anxiety

A list

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Things I didn’t know when Maya was a newborn that I knew with Maggie (in no particular order or importance):

  • I can survive even when I’m exhausted. I am superwoman.
  • There are other ways to soothe first before nursing every time she fusses at night
  • If she cries for a minute, she’s okay
  • Other people can hold her or do things for her and she’ll be okay
  • Swaddle as long as possible
  • Find other mothers to talk to who are In It also
  • Sound machine is a necessity from day one
  • It’s okay (and good) to not nurse on a perfect every 3 hour schedule
  • I am not neglecting her if I don’t talk to her every second of every day
  • If blowouts happen it could be a diaper sizing issue
  • Managing my postpartum (and regular) anxiety is crucial and worth it
  • I am a great mother
  • It’s okay to not love every minute of every day. It doesn’t mean I don’t love my daughter.
  • Every single mother has some level of a hard time even if they don’t talk about

What do you know now, that you wish you knew then?

Postpartum anxiety

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Okay, it’s time that postpartum anxiety is talked about. In fact, it’s way overdue, but better late than never.

First of all, it isn’t even really a thing. Which is absurd. There’s no test for it, no evaluations for it. We kind of have to be aware of it and self-diagnose it to then even know to reach out for support.

Postpartum psychosis is fairly easy to diagnose – yes, I’m having thoughts of hurting my baby and there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind: that’s not normal.

Then there’s postpartum depression – no, I have no enjoyment in anything, I feel hopeless, I’ve withdrawn from family and friends. But that is sometimes hard – because, after you’ve had a baby, of course there are times you feel hopeless. Will I ever sleep again? Will I ever stop bleeding? Will she ever stop crying? Of course you don’t enjoy anything – you don’t DO anything other than feed, change diapers, soothe. And of course you’ve withdrawn from family and friends- there’s no TIME to connect or maintain relationships. Consequently, I think too many people get told “Yep – totally normal, it’ll get easier as she gets older!” (Which IS true, but it’s only helpful if what the person is experiencing is typical and not pathological. Also, don’t get me started on the lack of postpartum care – both physical and mental, and how there is ONE screening for PPD at your ONE postpartum physical.)

And then postpartum anxiety – a whole other ball game. Postpartum anxiety gets normalized. It’s also a really fine line, because it is NORMAL to be anxious as a new parent – but there’s no method for rating/qualifying just how intense the anxiety is, and just where normal ends and pathological begins. Do you have constant worry? Of course you do. You’re a new mom. Moms worry about everything. Do you worry something bad is going to happen? Of course. You’re responsible for this tiny human.

You see?

When you have (undiagnosed) postpartum anxiety (and/or OCD – I’ll lump them together per my own experience), it goes multiple steps further.

People talk about giving birth and kind of laugh it off – “Yup, gooooood times,” they joke. Oh. So it must be normal that I can’t stop replaying my horrific labor experience in my mind, that I can’t stop thinking about all those days in pain, that my body still feels it happening, that I know I will never in my entire life not recall every awful moment of it.

“Oh yes, I definitely obsessed over how much my baby was eating!” they say. Well, I check and recheck that her bottles are filled with EXACTLY 4oz of my pumped milk – not a speck over or under. Is that normal too? She eats every 3 hours, so I tell day care that they need to feed her at 9:05 exactly, and then 12:05 exactly. Um…that’s also normal….right?

“Yep, the days can definitely be long,” they say. So is it normal that I burst into tears every Friday afternoon because I’m afraid of how we are going to get through the weekend, just us in our house? It’s better at day care, she’s happier at day care, every other baby is happy at home….something is wrong with me.

Others joke about how complicated it can be to get a baby out of the house. I agree. That’s why I never, ever take her anywhere other than to and from day care and to and from my parents’ house. It’s just too much. The world is too unsafe and it’s better to just stay in our own little bubble. Right?

Some mothers talk about making sure their babies are warm enough. Oh, good. So it must be normal to open the hourly weather forecast every five seconds and then wonder if I should put her in a long-sleeved shirt with an undershirt underneath or a long-sleeved shirt with a sweater over it. What if one way she’s too hot or one way she’s too cold? What if it ends up being 70 degrees in the day care room instead of 71? What about when she sleeps at night? What if the temperature in her room rises from 72 to 73? Will she overheat?

They talk about making sure their babies are safe in their cribs. You wonder if that means it’s “normal” to reach over to feel your newborn’s chest and make sure it’s rising and falling, multiple times every night, to the point where it interferes with your own limited sleep. You wonder about the times you wake up gasping, frantically searching the sheets, because you know you fell asleep nursing her and now she’s going to be dead in the sheets – but then you reach over and she’s actually in her bassinet, because of course you put her back, you always do. And by the time your breath slows and the sweat dries, she needs to nurse again and it starts all over.

You wonder about how you can never nap while she naps because you just know that if you aren’t awake listening to the monitor and watching her breathe, she will die, and it will be your fault. I’ll just check one more time. Just one more time. Just. one. more. time.

But every parent worries, right?

—

Look, I had a physically hard pregnancy, a unimaginably hard labor and delivery, and an even more long, awful recovery. I had panic, anxiety, and OCD prior to pregnancy – it’s no wonder I developed it all postpartum also. But the point is, it’s so often a fine line. It’s easy to question the normalcy of our thoughts and behaviors, even if we are primed for it and are expecting it. We second-guess ourselves. I was primed for it and I didn’t even realize what it was.

And not nearly enough focus is placed on the mental health of postpartum mothers. And I’m not just talking when they’re infants – this can take hold and not go away, even into toddlerhood. Trust me.

I will always be an anxious mother. It’s in my wiring. I have my moments, but overall right now, at least for now, I’m not pathologically anxious or obsessive, and I am very aware of that line. I just am who I am, and who I am translates into parenthood. I am working on caring about the things I care about, and standing firm behind my beliefs as long as they are rooted in a healthy place, which nowadays, they are (even if other parents raise their children in different ways or have different beliefs – but that’s a post for another day).

But this – motherhood, postpartum experiences, labor, delivery, parenting, relationships after having a baby – it really needs to be talked about, so so much more. Better out than in, better to know than not know, better to have people to relate to than to feel alone, better to heal collectively than suffer silently.

(Seems that’s the case for everything, am I right?)

Another panicky post

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I would say about 99% of my panic (today) is caused by worrying that I might have a panic attack.

This is not uncommon.

People with anxiety and panic typically have a lot of panic about panic, almost as if it’s a PTSD response.

My heart skips a beat, because sometimes hearts skip beats, and that triggers a thought: Ohmygod. What was that? Was that panic? AM I GOING TO HAVE ANOTHER PANIC ATTACK? What do I do if that happens?! And THAT makes me anxious, so my heart races faster, which solidifies my belief that it is indeed a panic attack, and before I know it it’s a full attack all because of a stupid trigger. Not because of anything even legitimate! (Not that panic is legitimate – but you know what I mean.)

There are people I have had panic attacks in front of before – even a full decade ago – and I still get anxious when I am with them. Not because of THEM, but because deep in my brain, there is still an association there. Every time I go to Whole Foods I get on the verge of a panic attack because that happened one time last summer. Today I wore a sweater that I once wore during a panic attack and that brief memory put me on edge.

It’s annoying and exhausting.

But I think it’s important in distinguishing that difference between a true isolated panic attack and one that’s really just a traumatic response because panic attacks are freaking traumatic. For me at least it helps me understand that it’s my brain responding in faulty, stuck ways (just like with PTSD) and not because I am designed to panic in response to everything. I don’t know – it makes sense to me.

It also motivates me to find ways to break that faulty cycle.

Exercise is a huge one. There’s a lot of research that says that exercise helps panic and anxiety but I didn’t care about that until I understood why. And a big reason (aside from that the neurotransmitters that get released and bind to receptors, causing calming the same way medication would) is because your brain makes new associations. You learn to associate a pounding heart and sweating palms with the feeling of a good workout, instead of panic that’s going to leave you vomiting and passed out on the ground. And it works, for sure. Following an immensely panic-filled summer and fall, I made it a priority to make sure I got even 15 minutes of a good workout multiple times a week, and I saw a difference when I did.

Sometimes I face the panic head on. I know it’s likely to happen, given where I’m going or who I’m going to be with, and I do things to counteract it. Holding onto my cold water bottle is grounding. I choose where I sit and ensure I have an exit. I rub my oils on my wrists before I enter that situation. I remind myself that I can just get up and leave if I need to and it doesn’t matter what people think. (Although as an aside, having people know about my panic is immensely helpful because then the fear of what they would think is eliminated). I try to do something to get my heart moving before a potentially hard situation, even if it’s just walking up a flight of stairs or three jumping jacks.

I try ,and lately I’ve been succeeding. Sometimes I don’t, and I hate when I don’t, but that’s the journey, right? Also, sometimes when I get annoyed about it, I remember myself from 3, 5, 10 years ago and I am comforted by how much more I understand now, how much more control I’m in now. So while my brain can sometimes take hold and spin me out of control, the magnitude and frequency is negligible compared to what it used to be – and that, my friends, is freaking wonderful.

Sensitivity

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I cried on my drive home today. 

I knew it was going to happen. 

I picked up the baby from my parents’  house because they have her on Thursdays and I couldn’t believe another Thursday has come and gone, wasn’t I just there yesterday, and my beautiful baby girl will be 5 months old tomorrow and it seems like  just yesterday that I was newly pregnant, and I love each moment with her but am I enjoying it enough? And time is flying and that is so scary and I try to live in the moment but it’s so hard and how long will I have with my loved ones and what if something happens to them, I will not survive it, what ritual or compulsion can I do to protect them, there isn’t any, I know this, and how do I just freeze everything so I don’t have to worry, and am I a good enough mother and wife and daughter and sister and friend and are my coworkers sick of me and is my boss mad at me, and my heart hurts for the world and for everyone else hurting and lately I’ve been feeling it all (again), feeling everyone’s feelings and feeling consumed by what doesn’t even belong to me and every sight has a feeling and every smell has a memory and there was a dead squirrel on the road and that did me in, and I am happy and sad and overwhelmed and stressed and tired and there isn’t room for all of those in my body and it feels like a million pounds weighing on me, and this is me and this is what happens from time to time but it’s a lot and I couldn’t reign it in. 

So I cried. 

This is part of why I used to not eat, or do other not great things around food. Because everything is scary and hard and I’m the epitome of a hypersensitive person and when all of those feelings and worries and questions became too much and the world was too big I could make it smaller by making it about food and calories and my weight. I could have that to focus on instead of gun violence and cancer and dead squirrels and anxiety and worry thoughts about my loved ones. Food and weight I could solve. Food and weight I could manage. The rest? Not so much. 

I remember how, as a young child, I had all of these same worries and fears and moments but I didn’t know what it was. I just knew I felt scared and overwhelmed and heavy and I didn’t know it was because I was so sensitive. I just thought something was really wrong with me. 

Nothing was wrong with me, though. I just didn’t know it. Glennon reminds us, right – “you are not a mess. You’re a feeling person in a messy world”. 

Right. 

But feelings hurt and worries are scary and everything IS hard when you’re wired this way. 

So sometimes you just have to cry, release the pressure valve, wipe your face, take a breath, and wait for the shift. 

Lessons learned. Again.

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You know how when there’s a leak in your house you usually fix it right away, but sometimes you just ignore it? Because it’s really not doing that much damage and it’s probably only leaking because it’s raining and it’s going to stop raining eventually.

Right. Except.

The thing is, you don’t know when it’s going to stop raining. Or when it’s going to start raining again. And how hard. Because despite your best efforts, and the best predictions and forecasts, sometimes storms just come. And sometimes they come out of nowhere, and you haven’t fixed the leak, and it makes an even bigger mess.

And then you have to figure out how to fix the damage from the leak. There’s no point in wasting time wishing you had fixed it earlier. Hindsight is 20-20 and all you can do is deal with what you have in front of you.

So you get mad at yourself, and you complain, and maybe you cry, but then you do the Next Right Thing. You call the repairman, and tell them that even if their schedule is crazy, you need to be fit in. And you don’t, you can’t, feel bad about it, because that’s their job. And you have to fix the damage to your house. No amount of avoidance or wishing is going to make it go away.

And you remind yourself: next time, for the love of all things holy, don’t ignore the leak. No matter how tempting avoidance is, remember that the likelihood of the leak just stopping is slim to none. Patch it. Fix it. Face it. Call the repairman. Well before the damage occurs.

The intimacy of a panic attack

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There was a recent episode of “This is Us” that had people talking (this is not a spoiler, not to worry). It involved Randall coping with anxiety that quickly increased in severity, and eventually showed him in the midst of a full-blown panic/anxiety attack.

It hurt my heart. It was gut-wrenching and painful and beautiful, too, because during his panic attack, his brother came and sat on the floor with him and just held him.

There are few things so vulnerable, so intimate.

I can count on one hand the number of people who I have wanted to see me in the middle of a panic attack. Some people have witnessed it just because it happened when they were around. But usually? I prefer to ride it out on my own, touching base after the wave has passed.

I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do it. You get through the hard times however you get through them. Some people want to be physically hugged through a panic attack – others push loved ones away. You do what you need to do.

There have been very, VERY few times in my life that during a panic attack that I have actively sought out someone. It is hard to be that vulnerable. It’s hard to be that intimate. It’s hard to let someone bear witness to your struggle.

What I CAN tell you, is that the times I have sat in front of someone, allowing them to see me at my most vulnerable, as I shook and sweat and gasped and hyperventilated and felt the color draining from my face – those times ended, interestingly, with me feeling more empowered after. I think it’s similar to how being upfront and telling it like it is in a medical setting has a positive result. There’s something very empowering about thinking, I could not be more vulnerable right now – and yet I’m going to let someone bear witness to my struggle. I’m going to trust them to love me through it and I’m not going to tell them what to do or what to say. I’m going to ride out what’s happening right now, and they will figure out how to help or what to do. It’s empowering because it’s allowing me to be me, and not feeling shame or embarrassment about it.

Like I said – it’s rare. I much prefer to handle it on my own. But from time to time, there’s something special about it. There’s something beautifully intimate about experiencing a hard time with someone else, and something powerful about embracing the struggle, and letting it float out there freely, letting it move through you, and not feeling like you need to hide.

You be you. You do you. You embrace you. And the right ones, the loved ones, those special ones that are in your tribe for a reason, will love you for it, and love you through it.

Write and breathe

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Did you know that exhaling activates the parasympathetic nervous system? That’s the part that calms you down, brings you back to baseline. I love that fact. I love it in part because it means there’s actually something really easy we can do when we’re anxious: exhale. Long exhales. I also love it because I knew, for years, that “take a deep breath” was not always helpful. There are about a million reasons why. But I think one of them is because breathing in, in and of itself, actually isn’t the solution. If we aren’t careful, we breathe in too quickly, or too deep, and exhale too short, and we end up hyperventilating and more anxious than we started. The key is to breathe overall. In deeply if it’s helpful and cleansing – but out, slowly, for longer.

I have felt anxious on and off the last few days. This isn’t anything new for me. Anxiety comes and goes, it’s a part of me, and in learning and accepting that, I don’t worry when I’m anxious. I very infrequently panic, like I used to, What if I’m anxious forever? It just doesn’t work that way. There’s nothing to panic or worry about. I will be prone to anxiety forever – I will not be in an anxious state every moment of every day forever. And anxiety in and of itself, while at times unpleasant, isn’t a bad thing.

Anxiety means one of two things: something is happening or upcoming that is on my mind, or something is subconsciously working itself through – meaning I’m not (yet) aware of what it is, but it’s doing its thing. These things aren’t brilliant revelations – but having spent years thinking I was anxious “for no reason”, it’s always a comfort to remind myself that there IS a reason. I just might not know it. And in a way it’s kind of cool (kind of), that my body can work things through even before it has been able to effectively communicate to my brain. Quite efficient. Sometimes unpleasant, yes, but efficient nonetheless.

Oh, goodness. There isn’t a point. I can’t always have a point of writing, can I?? Mostly what happened is that I haven’t written in so long. And the more I don’t write, the more I feel it building inside of me wanting to burst. Kind of like when you have to pee (I know, but seriously, it’s a good comparison). And then today I thought, Ugh, I wish I could just write something, I know it would feel freeing and cathartic. And then I told myself Uh, you can. Just go write something. And then I argued back, But I have nothing profound and no words of wisdom and no good moral or lesson. And then I countered, Right. But. Who cares, remember?

Ah, right. Who cares. Write from the mixed-up middle, and you don’t need an ending, and you don’t need a beginning, and you don’t need a point.