My Old Nemesis Anxiety is Back

Much as was hoping to avoid anxiety it's here.

I tried to prepare for and anticipate any triggers.  I brought earplugs and an eye mask to the hospital so I could drown out extra noise.  The earplugs were just enough so I couldn't hear the baby down the hall crying, but I could still hear our bundle of joy in our room.  My sweet husband spent the first night with us and held our daughter so I could sleep.  I was able to get some sleep.

The next night I had sent my exhausted husband home to sleep in our bed.  I tried to get some sleep, but was having a very difficult time.  It was the second night "wakefulness" night.  Baby Girl just pretty much wanted to party.  Two other new moms were also having trouble sleeping.  The hospital beds were not conducive at all for "sleeping in", and they had no nursery.  Our fantastic nurses came up with a plan though.  They put all three babies in an unused room with one of them on watch at all times.  They rotated rounds, medication stops and everything and allowed us to sleep.  I got four and a half hours and I was thrilled!

The third day we came home from the hospital and it all fell apart.  I have a nursing pillow I use to position the baby as I nurse--the problem was the night time feedings.  I would get sleepy nursing the baby, but then I would "jerk" awake because I didn't want to put the baby in a dangerous position.  I kept doing this.  I would try and lay her down, but she wouldn't sleep for long before waking and wanting to nurse again. 

I also found myself drifting off to sleep in my bed, then "jerking" awake again even though I didn't have her in my arms.

The end result was I slept about an hour.

The next day was not much better.  I got an hour nap and 2 two hour stretches of sleep.  I began to have anxiety that I would never have a decent night's sleep again--even though I have faith that I would get through this like I did last time.  I had forgotten how to fall asleep.  I worried about what kind of mother I would be for my other children and how I would function when my in-laws and husband were gone. This only added to my stress level. 

I talked with my mother-in-law and she reminded me of talk I had recently heard from a modern-day apostle of Jesus Christ.  The apostle had taught us from the New Testament and pointed out that even when Jesus was at his lowest point having fasted for forty days and then having been tempted by the devil, the Savior did not turn inward, but ministered to John the Baptist by sending angels to him.  He served others even when he must have been weary and beaten down.

I realized I was wrapped in my own drama of "will I have a normal sleep schedule again?"  I realized I needed to get outside of myself and serve others.  I could serve my family--especially our new little daughter who is wholly dependent upon me, but I can also do little things to help others.  I can send a note to a sick friend, or call someone on the phone to let them know I am thinking of them.  I can make a few phone calls for another busy mom who is trying to pull together a big activity.  I can help others in small, but meaningful ways.

I also have come to the realization that this is likely NOT the last time I'll ever face anxiety--and that's okay.  Heavenly Father has helped me get through my bouts of anxiety in the past, and I know He will help me get through them now, and when I face them again in the future.  This knowledge helps me because I know I am not alone.  I can also use the experience as an opportunity to draw ever closer to my Father in Heaven and His son, Jesus Christ.  

And that my friends, is a very good thing.

Letting Go

I’m writing this with a heavy heart.  I’ve been hoping since the last miscarriage that we’d be able to get pregnant again.  My family doesn’t think I should even try.  They all seem to take the ectopic pregnancy and two miscarriages  as a sign I’m not supposed to have anymore kids.  I haven’t wanted to go there in my thinking.  It is hard not to when despite only having one tube, I still managed to get pregnant.

I know that while I’m overweight, there are no major medical problems.  Until I got sick in November, I was exercising 3-5 times a week and I had started to tone up and lose inches around my waist. 

My husband has traveled a lot this last year, and I’ve got some major responsibilities with my calling at church (We are asked or “called” to serve in various capacities in our church.  It’s all volunteer—no pay.)  I’m the head of our women’s group at church aka ward Relief Society president.  I’ve got two counselors (other women) to help me, but there is a lot to do.  It’s a juggling act at times. 

I have been praying for guidance and the answer I got was to be patient.  That was a hard answer to get because I know that with every passing month, my chances at another successful pregnancy become slimmer.  

I’m not always good at being patient, but I’ve done my best.   I’m waiting and trusting in the Lord’s plan for my family.  I’ve watched good friends and my sister get pregnant, and give birth.  Two of those babies were due around the time mine were due.  Recently I learned that five women at church are pregnant.  One of whom is a good friend of mine, is pregnant with her eighth.  I knew she and her husband had been discussing having just one more child, and now they’re on their way.  

On the other hand, I’ve begun to see the light at the end of the tunnel and it’s exciting.  My youngest is almost potty-trained, and next fall he should be in preschool.  I will have a couple of hours in which I can grocery shop or run errands sans kids.  That hasn’t  happened in over a decade.  A year and  a half from now, he will be in kindergarten, and I will have more than a few hours by myself.  I’m starting to look forward to that possibility.  

As each month has passed, I’ve see-sawed back and forth between wanting a new little one, and remembering how much work new babies can be.  I went to a book club group where several ladies were pregnant and of course labor and delivery stories came up.  I remembered how much I hate hospitals after the delivery is over, and how edgy I get when I don’t sleep because of the relentless checking-in that can happen.  

I don’t rest when my babies are in the nursery because after labor I am hyper-alert to certain noises.  Every baby that cries I wake and wonder if it is mine.  I’ve tried sleeping with the babies in the room, but every time one of them makes a noise I wake, sit up and look around to see if the baby is waking up or just making noise.  Finally I learned the last time around (with number five) to keep the baby in the bed with me.  He would make his normal newborn sounds and I would just open my eyes to see if he needed me.  If not I would drift back to my dozing/slumber state.  I was always very cautious (I’ve read and heard too many horror stories to not be), and I am a light sleeper, so I took the necessary precautions to protect both of us, and was able to get some sleep for once.  Still, I didn’t fully rest until I came home from the hospital, and though I’ve talked it through, I still get tense thinking about the post-partum stay because of what happened with my fourth child (a really bad reaction to medications that left me sleepless, hyper and hysterical for three days).  

Then there are the midnight feedings and lack of sleep until the baby is big enough to sleep through the night.  The diaper rashes, thrush, and how much nursing hurts at first until your body is used to letting down your milk.  

Oh, but the sweetness!  Is there anything that smells sweeter than a new baby?  Isn’t rocking one of them to sleep against your shoulder one of the best privileges life has to offer?  And isn’t looking at the miracle in your arms and knowing they are fresh from Heaven one of the most exquisite and humbling experiences you can have?  

I’ve been so torn, but I’m close to 40, and frankly biology is playing a bigger and bigger role in this. 

So I’m letting go.  I'm lettting go of the control.  Frankly, it's not in my hands--it's always been in the Lord's hands.  Sadly I'm also trying to let go of the hope I will get pregnant again.  I’m trying to learn to be content  with the fact I’m not likely to have more children.  I am admitting it is out of my hands.  I can’t quite bring myself to get rid of all the baby clothes just yet, but I’m getting there.  

Today I got rid of the pregnancy tests in the picture.  I’m not sure why I was holding on to them. I guess in some ways they are reminders of the babies I had lost.  In other ways, they are anchors holding me in place—not allowing me to move forward because of their weight.  

So they are gone.  They are in the trashcan at the end of the driveway, and they will be gone for good tomorrow morning.  I plan on selling/donating the car toddler bed that is taking up space in the basement.  The baby clothes I don’t want to hand down will go in their boxes and on racks in the garage and get one step closer to leaving the house.   I can’t quite bring myself to get rid of them, because I don’t know what God has in store for me, but I can put them someplace they don’t take up mental energy. 

I am determined to not take this time with the kids I have for granted.  My oldest still talks to me and likes to do things with me.  The youngest still loves to snuggle.  The rest fall somewhere in-between, and so I’m trying to do more things with my kids. Play more games, read more books, make more crafts together.  They are my gifts from Heaven and they deserve a mom who is fully vested in the present, and not mired in the “I wish” of the past.  

I wish you many moments of joy today.

Thyroid Issues, Panic and Childbirth

My TSH levels are low (.58 is the latest) which as I now know--means borderline hyperthyroidism.  The good news is this shouldn't affect the baby. 

Here's the problem: Just because I fall into some technically random range of "normal" does NOT mean my thyroid is acting normally.

If this was normal then why have I had racing heart issues? Seriously why does it shoot up to 100+ beats a minute when I was resting quietly the minute before? How about 120 beats when I was just standing and looking at some papers? What about the increased agitation? The increasing frequency this is all happening with? This was all happening before I got pregnant, so while a racing heart may not be uncommon during pregnancy, that does not mean it is the norm for me. I've had five babies and this is NOT normal for me.

That said, I have to say I've had panic attacks before, and initially I thought I was having a series of panic attacks. I simply do not react well to certain medications, and they can bring on panic attacks and racing heart.

*******

My first panic attack was in 1998 when I received vicodin after C1's c-section. I stopped taking the vicodin and did better. It helped that my mom arrived. In 2004, someone decided I need to take percocet after C4's birth and the tearing I had. I should have listened to my gut and not taken the medication. The Lord has blessed me with a high pain tolerance and I think it was to balance out the reactions I have to some pain medications. I don't like how morphine makes me itch and be fidgety. The reaction to the percocet was extreme. I couldn't sleep. I was so tired, I kept slipping between dozing (only to be woken by the racing heart) and not quite dreaming, and wakefulness. I had weird half-asleep dreams and thoughts about being strapped down flat on my back while I was pregnant--waiting for surgery, and my baby was in danger. No one was there and no one would help me.

And then I didn't sleep and dream for 3 days. I couldn't relax. I had a hard time enjoying my sweet little girl. It was torture and traumatic.

I should have never taken the half ambien recommended to me before I went in for induction. Then, because I am lucky enough to test positive for Group B Strep, I was given pitocin and a high course of antibiotics before they broke my water. I ended up with an epidural. Then add the anti-fungal I have to take because my body love to immediately launch into thrush when I have antibiotics. It was a nightmare. Too many drugs in my body interacting with each other.

Thankfully this last time (C5) my midwives were really proactive in my care. I was worried about not being able to sleep. (How are you supposed to be able to sleep when every couple of hours someone comes in to check on your or your baby's vitals and then offer you things like newspapers and baby's first photo?) My midwives instructed that the baby and I be evaluated at the same time intervals. NO unnecessary interruptions, and they recommended I take advantage of naturally occurring tryptophan in turkey and warm milk.

Everything is all well and good until March when I had a severe cold and took a certain cold medication as often as allowed to try and relieve my symptoms (something I almost never do).

Result? Panic attack(s) that lasted more or less for three days. Yikes.

*******

I ended up talking to a counselor multiple times trying to figure out what is going on. Found out I was pregnant during the course of counseling and then some of the fears of childbirth and what it means for my body come back. I worked through a good many issues and I was doing better for a little while. Then I found out my pregnancy was ectopic and required immediate surgery. Did I mention my DH was on his way out of the country when this all started happening? Fortunately I had a fantastic friend stay with me until well into the night. I finally sent her home around 1:00 am--she had little ones of her own to take care of. Sometime later I ended up facing my biggest nightmare--pregnant, strapped down to a bed and about to have surgery. Only this time I knew I wasn't alone--I heard the voices of the doctors and nurses, and the room was bright. I faced my biggest fear and got through it. And even though my husband was gone, I felt the Lord comforting me through every step of this process.

I spoke with the counselor about my grief and began to piece things back together. DH had to go out of the country again, and I kept having "attacks" (or what I perceived to be attacks at the time) with more and more frequency. What was happening? Why was I suddenly a basket case? For years I had been a competent, strong woman. Why was I falling apart?

Things came to a head while my husband still gone. I was having a particularly bad evening and as he was on the other side of the world, I was talking to him. He (wonderful man that he is) took time out of his meetings to help me figure out some things. He did some internet research and realized there might be a medical reason for what was happening to me.

Next day I called my nurse practitioner and we started looking into why I might be having these issues.

Once I realized there might be a medical reason, a strange thing happened--I stopped panicking when the racing heart would start. I'd been so used to associating the two, I thought I was having another panic attack whenever the racing heart happened.

Now, I can distance myself and say, "Hmm--my body is freaking out on me at the moment."

I'm still not sure what is at the bottom of all of this. My good friend with celiacs (I'll call her Anna for future purposes), has had a lot of the same issues I've had and has been a stalwart friend and a good listening ear. She is the one that suggested I look into celiacs knowing I don't really react well to wheat or gluten.

The bottom line is, something in my body has changed, and I am determined to figure out what it is. I dearly wish I had a baseline TSH and other thyroid levels to compare my current state to. If I did, I suspect I could turn to the doctor and say, "Here's where I am supposed to be, and here's where I am now. What are we going to do about it?"

I'm not going to give up. I will eat healthier and I will find an answer that works for me and my family. We will, with the Lord's help, find a way through all of this.