The diagnosis

I knew that how I have been feeling since Ava's birth wasn't "normal." But I was somehow managing to get through it. Then this week in nursing school we are learning about "labor and delivery." I didn't know how much I internally was dreading this. That morning I was so tempted to just stay home and sleep. If it wasn't for someone waking up early to take care of Ava I probably would have. I got through the pregnancy part ok. I though I could do it. We took our break and was going to start labor when we got back. I sat at my table waiting for class to start trying my hardest not to just burst out crying. I can do this. I can do this. My teacher was well aware of my situation and said if I need to step out I can and she would understand. I can do this. We got to the third stage of labor, where the placenta is supposed to come out. I just kept my eyes down and wiggled my foot back and forth trying to not think much about anything. And then it was done. I did it. Only problem is there was a movie after. I could watch the labor part. Most of the women in the movie had an epidural, so it was different from mine. It was ok. I can do this. And then it went right to the mom holding a baby. There was only a momentary mention of the placenta. And that's when I broke. I didn't even realize what I was doing, but I was out the door and outside walking in the parking lot. I just kept walking. And crying. and crying.

That's when I realized I can't do this.  I finally made my way back and the class was gone for the day. My teacher saw me and asked if I was ok and I just bawled. She gave me a hug and I just cried harder. Someone understood my anguish. Someone told me that I could talk to her whenever I need. I felt kind of silly giving the head of the nursing department a huge ol hug crying my eyes out. But it was needed.

I left the school with two things in mind. 1) I was put in this school for a reason. I am going through this for a reason. It sucks. A lot. But sometime in the far far future I will be able to use this and help someone the way my teacher helped me. 2) I need professional help. So I called my OB office and asked for a referral for a therapist.

I called him and he was able to get me in two days later. I felt kind of strange because his office is at the doctors office. So I was sitting in the same waiting room I had waited in all year. Only then I was filled with excitement that I got to see my baby. This time I was full of trepidation.

I started talking to him and in no time at all he told me I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So I'm not crazy. And it totally makes sense and not really too shocking to be honest.
So here is my story of trying to live my life as normally as possible with this disorder.