Due to the circumstances surrounding Ava's birth it took me a while to get that mother daughter bond. I was fighting the physical aspect of child birth and so much blood loss, along with my undiagnosed maternal mental illness, and the stress of starting nursing school. I knew I loved her, but didn't have that out of your body attachment I felt with my firstborn. I would look at her and wonder if she would notice the love I had for her big sister was different than what I felt for her. I wondered if she would resent me. I wondered a lot of things while I passed her off to someone else's arms who wanted to hold her.
Day by day things got better. Days grew into weeks, and weeks turned into years and my love grew with each passing moment. Now, a few months shy of 3 years, I am head over heels in love with her. She is so much like me its not even funny, which I know isn't a coincidence. I have come to the conclusion that it is ok to love them differently. They are different people who require different love, but that doesn't make one inferior to the other. It is just different, but that's ok.
But the best part of all of this is knowing how much she loves me. Tonight I heard someone coughing so I went to investigate. As soon as my light shined on her face she opened her eyes and gave me the biggest smile and said "kiss?" And of course that is exactly what happened.
And it was exactly what we both needed.
Showing posts with label Postpartum PTSD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Postpartum PTSD. Show all posts
Friday, April 24, 2015
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Journey of finding strength through postpartum PTSD
The hospital I was at included discharge teaching on postpartum depression. We even got a cute little handout of the signs and symptoms to keep an eye out for. They were even really smart, and the nurse addressed my husband and said that it is often the husband that notices before the mom does.
So when I started to feel out of whack, I got my handy little paper and looked at the symptoms. Lack of joy? Not really. Feelings of inadequacy? Nope, not that either. withdrawal from friends and family? Only because I was in nursing school and had no choice. Thoughts of harming myself of my children? Negative. But really, it all came down to the fact that I wasn't sad. I've been depressed, and this wasn't it. So I just kept going, trying to fight a battle I was unprepared to fight.
I had panic attacks on a daily basis. Flashbacks of my birth haunted me like the plague. My dreams had turned dark. I cried all the time, but not because I was sad, but because I kept reliving those key moments of my birth where I thought I was going to die, heck where I should have died. I hated not being able to go through the day without something hitting me and taking me back there. Even the simplest things, like looking at a clock. Showers were bad, because they were really the only time I had to myself. And so I would go through it over and over in my head, while my tears fell down faster than the water. I was very edgy with my family, and had very little patience for my 2 year old. The worse thing was looking at my sweet baby and all of a sudden flooded with resentment for causing so much terror in my life and guilt for not being the mom I wanted to be.
This was not me.
One day, after leaving class because it was too much for me, I talked to my teacher. She told me that with time, the pain will dull and not hurt as much. And then she told me that it is ok to talk to someone about all this in the meantime. That was the first time that I realized that I needed help, and so I called up my OB office and they referred me to a counselor they work with.
I was diagnosed with postpartum PTSD. Therapy involved some relaxation techniques, that I originally thought was totally dumb. But it turned out it wasn't, as I now do it every day a year and a half later. This helped my recovery tremendously. I finally realized that I wasn't crazy, and that there was something behind the new, post baby me.
Through therapy, on line support such as postpartumprogress.org, and a continual fight to not let it control me, I was able to return to the floor I had my daughter in for my senior capstone and work there for 130 hours. I was not only able to see my doctors face and walk in my room, but witness a birth in there. Were there hard moments? oh, yeah. The bathroom was a great friend for ugly crying those first couple days, and I may have called my teacher to say it was too much. But, when she said she could find me a new place to finish I said no. I had to finish it. I am so glad I did. I have never felt more strong than walking out those doors that last day. I did it. I am stronger than this disease. I will not be held captive by it again.
So, this is my plea to you, dear reader. If you are questioning if what you are feeling is something, chances are high it might be. So please, seek help. It does not mean you are weak. It does not solidify that you are crazy. In fact, it is the opposite. Taking that first step takes great strength, and I know that you have the strength to do so.
Much love. xoxo
So when I started to feel out of whack, I got my handy little paper and looked at the symptoms. Lack of joy? Not really. Feelings of inadequacy? Nope, not that either. withdrawal from friends and family? Only because I was in nursing school and had no choice. Thoughts of harming myself of my children? Negative. But really, it all came down to the fact that I wasn't sad. I've been depressed, and this wasn't it. So I just kept going, trying to fight a battle I was unprepared to fight.
I had panic attacks on a daily basis. Flashbacks of my birth haunted me like the plague. My dreams had turned dark. I cried all the time, but not because I was sad, but because I kept reliving those key moments of my birth where I thought I was going to die, heck where I should have died. I hated not being able to go through the day without something hitting me and taking me back there. Even the simplest things, like looking at a clock. Showers were bad, because they were really the only time I had to myself. And so I would go through it over and over in my head, while my tears fell down faster than the water. I was very edgy with my family, and had very little patience for my 2 year old. The worse thing was looking at my sweet baby and all of a sudden flooded with resentment for causing so much terror in my life and guilt for not being the mom I wanted to be.
This was not me.
One day, after leaving class because it was too much for me, I talked to my teacher. She told me that with time, the pain will dull and not hurt as much. And then she told me that it is ok to talk to someone about all this in the meantime. That was the first time that I realized that I needed help, and so I called up my OB office and they referred me to a counselor they work with.
I was diagnosed with postpartum PTSD. Therapy involved some relaxation techniques, that I originally thought was totally dumb. But it turned out it wasn't, as I now do it every day a year and a half later. This helped my recovery tremendously. I finally realized that I wasn't crazy, and that there was something behind the new, post baby me.
Through therapy, on line support such as postpartumprogress.org, and a continual fight to not let it control me, I was able to return to the floor I had my daughter in for my senior capstone and work there for 130 hours. I was not only able to see my doctors face and walk in my room, but witness a birth in there. Were there hard moments? oh, yeah. The bathroom was a great friend for ugly crying those first couple days, and I may have called my teacher to say it was too much. But, when she said she could find me a new place to finish I said no. I had to finish it. I am so glad I did. I have never felt more strong than walking out those doors that last day. I did it. I am stronger than this disease. I will not be held captive by it again.
So, this is my plea to you, dear reader. If you are questioning if what you are feeling is something, chances are high it might be. So please, seek help. It does not mean you are weak. It does not solidify that you are crazy. In fact, it is the opposite. Taking that first step takes great strength, and I know that you have the strength to do so.
Much love. xoxo
(horrible picture. But this was me in going in the hospital to have my sweet baby!)
Monday, February 10, 2014
Recovery
Recovery. At what point can you say you are fully recovered?
I don’t know. But as every moment passes I become ever so much closer to that
point, if it really exists.
Birth is notorious for ravishing its victims, even if
everything goes as planned. But what happens when things don’t go as smooth as
you would like? Here is my story of recovery.
After a nearly perfect natural birth my placenta decided to
give everyone some problems and failed to detach, consequently my uterus came
out inside out with the placenta still attached. My doctor tried to fix it in
the room, all the while nurses were multiplying to help out, some giving me
shots to stop my bleeding, some putting oxygen on me. My uterus wouldn’t go
back, so I got rushed to the OR where I was put under and they were able to fix
me without surgery. I came to and was back in my room, listening to the nurses
and my family talk. I had an oxygen mask on, a new IV on my left arm where my 4th
blood transfusion was running, and a blood pressure cuff hooked up to my other
arm. I was too weak to move. So I had no way of communicating that I was awake,
so I just laid there looking at the clock periodically. And thus my journey of
recovery started.
After about 30 minutes of being back in my room, my nurse
gave me a mug of ice water. It was too heavy for me. She poured out half and I still struggled
with it. I told her I was fine because I didn’t want her to know that it was
still too heavy. So once she left I made my husband pour even more out. I ended
up just giving up on the water and went to sleep.
I was able to hold my baby and try to feed her 5 hours
later. It still kills me that I was too sick to even register that I had
another daughter for half of that time. We had to use a billion pillows for her
to be on since I still had no strength to hold much of her weight.
I stayed in the hospital for 2 days. The whole time I was
there I would get episodes of feeling very light headed, dizzy, and almost pass
out. They questioned if I would need another unit of blood, but the blood work
said I was ok, so they just gave me more IV fluids. When I got home the
weakness and light headedness stayed. I refused to hold the baby while standing
for several weeks. I would be fine and normal, and then all of a sudden it was
like the floor fell from under me and my head was spinning. The only relief I
could find would be to sit down and close my eyes. It was a horrible way to
live for over a week. Eventually, the lightheadedness turned into headaches. They
became a very constant part of my existence for several months.
At my 6 week check-up I was given the go ahead that I was
completely healed. If only it had been so easy. I was being tormented daily by panic attacks.
My uterine inversion was constantly on my mind. I started nursing school, which
gave me a large distraction. But when I wasn’t thinking about school, my mind
was reliving the whole event. My husband would try to cuddle with me and I
would see my doctor’s bald head. That bald head soon became a sign of
frustration, sadness, and anger. I would
feed my baby and remember my first time holding her with contentment. And then
I would cry. The littlest things would bring on a panic attack. This is not how
my life was supposed to be.
Several months later, we were learning about labor and
delivery in school and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit there and listen to how
birth was “supposed” to be, I couldn’t look at the happy family with a new
baby. So I left class, and just ran. I ran from everything. I ran from school,
I ran from the trauma, I ran from life. …But eventually I had to come back. By
that time, class was over. My teacher noticed me walking in to get my book bag
and gave me a hug. Then she said something that I will never forget—that I was
not crazy. I went through a traumatic event, and this is how my body happened
to process it, but eventually there would be enough time that it wouldn’t sting
so bad. She also suggested that I talk to a counselor. Recovery.
This was the turning point to my recovery. I saw a counselor
who diagnosed me with PTSD. He taught me coping mechanisms to help calm my
attacks before they controlled me. Soon I found myself going from multiple
attacks a day to one a day and then weekly. I learned what a lot of my triggers
are and what to do when they come up. Now this is recovery.
My PTSD has changed my life. I still have a lot of guilt over
not being with my baby for her first few hours, and consequently her first few
months because I was in the depths of this creature. A lot of my flashbacks
stem from this guilt now days. I get strange panic attacks that are different
than my PTSD attacks. I don’t know what is worse, because they just pop up for
no apparent reason. Luckily, I am prepared with better coping skills to help
calm them down before they turn into something more. I also have spent a lot of time crying. I
thought I had done a good job hiding it until my 4 year old asked me why I cry
all the time. How do I explain that my tears come from somewhere deep down that
yearns for an escape of this madness? Recovery.
About 14 months after my baby’s birth, I had an awesome
opportunity to pick a floor to do my senior capstone for nursing school. I
picked labor and delivery at the hospital it all happened. I had to do it. I
had to prove to myself that I am stronger than my situation. My PTSD was not going
to control me. Walking in those doors and staring down the hall to my room was
the single hardest thing I think I will ever have to do. My 135 hours there
brought back so many flashbacks. Some just by walking in my room or the OR, and
some by the experiences I witnessed. However, with each one I got stronger and
their hold on me got weaker. I learned that I am not ready to be a labor and
delivery nurse, which is what I needed to know. But I also learned that my
experience came to me for a reason.
Recovery.
Now, 18 months later my attacks are very mild compared to
where they used to be. They still sneak up on my when I least expect it, such
as reading a blog about newborns, but they don’t have that hold on me anymore.
I actually welcome them for a moment because it reminds me of what I have gone
through and that I am, in fact, a warrior mom.
Friday, November 8, 2013
1 year
** I wrote this for my personal blog July 20 2013. I decided it should be on this blog too as it is very much part of my journey of postpartum PTSD.***
I have tried to write this blog for a while, but it never came out right. Maybe tonight it will.
Today I just finished my RN1 semester. It is hard to believe that a year ago at his time I was at my deepest low. And that's saying something... A year ago at this time I had a 1 week old baby. I felt ugly. Not only did I have normal new mommy self image problems, I was ridiculously puffy still from my body going through shock. I had thought pregnancy was bad.... wrong. I was so weak at this point that I still was afraid to carry Ava upstairs by myself. I was so blessed that Chris decided to take the week off after the baby was born. I honestly don't know how I could have done it alone. I had a hard time even looking at Ava without busting out in tears. I had so many emotions. Regret. Sadness. Hatred. Most of my time was spent downstairs sleeping or silently crying. That was me. A mess, right?
Somehow, I miraculously got everything ready for nursing school. I had to have my dad come over to carry all my books upstairs, but we made it through. We then miraculously moved my now family of 4 out of our HOME and into my dads so I didn't have to worry about working while in school. There were a lot of sudden changes in our lives in such a short time.
Then, when Ava was only 5 weeks old I started on this journey called Nursing School. I was told I was to have clinicals in Labor and Delivery that semester...REALLY?!? Can't a girl catch a break? We learned all about pregnancy, labor, and childhood. It was a struggle to sit through class sometimes. Sometimes I didn't. More than one occasion I had to leave. It was too much hearing about what "should" happen. What should have happened to me!!! The day we talked about delivery was my turning point. We watched a movie about the "miracle of birth." blah blah blah. I could sit through the pregnancy park ok. The labor part was fine, even the delivery. But when the movie said "the mother now delivers the placenta" while showing a happy family with a newborn, I had had it. It is such an overlooked part of pregnancy that they didn't even show anything and merely mentioned it as the mother was cooing over her baby. I snapped. I ran outside and just kept running...and crying. I went outside and just ran. I still remember looking down at my white shoes and blue uniform pants. I must have needed to go to the hospital that night for preassessments. I didn't know where I was going. But I couldn't think of anything else to do to get all my emotions out. I must have looked like a true crazy person running around my school in my uniform with tears streaming down my face. I had planned on going in and telling my teacher, who also happened to be the head of the department, that I was dropping out. I couldn't do it. It was too much. Too soon. But what she did was probably the best thing of my life. She gave me a hug and just let me cry. and cry. and cry. It was the first time since it happened I was able to abandon what I "should" be like and just let go. She assured me that with time and distance I would get better. (she was right. imagine that). She also encouraged me to maybe see a counselor, and that that was ok.
As soon as I left school that day I was on the phone finding someone to see. Counseling was probably the single best thing I did this whole year. I got diagnosed with PTSD, which totally made sense. The flashbacks. The panic attacks. The nightmares. It was all me. He was able to teach me what to do once these panic attacks start. Throughout our sessions the goal was for me to be able to think of the whole situation. Each day I could get further and further until I needed to stop and had had enough. Then one day I was able to do it!! I used my relaxing techniques to get me through it. It was an amazing day. I don't know if I have ever felt more accomplished in my life.
I was able to go through my L&D clinicals, and not only survive them but leave with a renewed love for it. That has always been my goal when I started the process to become a nurse. I had momentarily been scared that I would have to find somewhere else to go. I will be a labor and delivery nurse.
The months following had their ups and downs. Trying to juggle the riggers and drama of nursing school while trying to stay on top of my illness was rough. Sometimes I was better than others. Sometimes I was better to others. And my husband. Poor Chris has had to deal with psycho-stressed-out wife too many times. He has had the brunt of it. We have struggled as a couple on a few things. But we have made it work. I love him.
As each day goes, I am left with a deeper passion that this is my calling. I was made to be a nurse. Before nursing school I wanted to be a nurse. Now I NEED to be a nurse. I can't think of myself as anything but one. I don't know why I never thought of nursing growing up. It was never on my radar as anything. But I am so glad that it got there somehow.
And so now, here I am. 3 semesters down. 1 to go. I am mentally stable. I am so blessed to be in the program I'm in with teachers who are more than understanding. I would have walked out and never come back. I love my class. I love my friends that I have made. I was really worried that I would be that awkward girl in the corner that was just kind of there. I guess I have grown up since high school. lol. But I have made friends, who will probably stay friends my whole life. Its kind of strange coming from me.
For the past year I have lived, breathed, and drank nursing school. It is hard to believe that in a few short months it will all be over and it will all be a distant memory.... or nightmare depending on what test I'm thinking about. Ava's birth changed me more than I ever thought possible. I am a much more independent, confident person. Life is a gift. literally. It has taught me that humans are more resilient that I ever thought possible. I mean, who goes from their deathbed at the hospital to being at the bedside of others in a hospital in a matter of weeks. The human body is amazing. It can put up with so much. Some doctors are stupid. ....its up to me to stand up to them!! I am not the weak and timid Alicia of the past. I am strong. I am Alicia RN....ok. maybe not yet. But oh so soon!!!!!
I have tried to write this blog for a while, but it never came out right. Maybe tonight it will.
Today I just finished my RN1 semester. It is hard to believe that a year ago at his time I was at my deepest low. And that's saying something... A year ago at this time I had a 1 week old baby. I felt ugly. Not only did I have normal new mommy self image problems, I was ridiculously puffy still from my body going through shock. I had thought pregnancy was bad.... wrong. I was so weak at this point that I still was afraid to carry Ava upstairs by myself. I was so blessed that Chris decided to take the week off after the baby was born. I honestly don't know how I could have done it alone. I had a hard time even looking at Ava without busting out in tears. I had so many emotions. Regret. Sadness. Hatred. Most of my time was spent downstairs sleeping or silently crying. That was me. A mess, right?
Somehow, I miraculously got everything ready for nursing school. I had to have my dad come over to carry all my books upstairs, but we made it through. We then miraculously moved my now family of 4 out of our HOME and into my dads so I didn't have to worry about working while in school. There were a lot of sudden changes in our lives in such a short time.
Then, when Ava was only 5 weeks old I started on this journey called Nursing School. I was told I was to have clinicals in Labor and Delivery that semester...REALLY?!? Can't a girl catch a break? We learned all about pregnancy, labor, and childhood. It was a struggle to sit through class sometimes. Sometimes I didn't. More than one occasion I had to leave. It was too much hearing about what "should" happen. What should have happened to me!!! The day we talked about delivery was my turning point. We watched a movie about the "miracle of birth." blah blah blah. I could sit through the pregnancy park ok. The labor part was fine, even the delivery. But when the movie said "the mother now delivers the placenta" while showing a happy family with a newborn, I had had it. It is such an overlooked part of pregnancy that they didn't even show anything and merely mentioned it as the mother was cooing over her baby. I snapped. I ran outside and just kept running...and crying. I went outside and just ran. I still remember looking down at my white shoes and blue uniform pants. I must have needed to go to the hospital that night for preassessments. I didn't know where I was going. But I couldn't think of anything else to do to get all my emotions out. I must have looked like a true crazy person running around my school in my uniform with tears streaming down my face. I had planned on going in and telling my teacher, who also happened to be the head of the department, that I was dropping out. I couldn't do it. It was too much. Too soon. But what she did was probably the best thing of my life. She gave me a hug and just let me cry. and cry. and cry. It was the first time since it happened I was able to abandon what I "should" be like and just let go. She assured me that with time and distance I would get better. (she was right. imagine that). She also encouraged me to maybe see a counselor, and that that was ok.
As soon as I left school that day I was on the phone finding someone to see. Counseling was probably the single best thing I did this whole year. I got diagnosed with PTSD, which totally made sense. The flashbacks. The panic attacks. The nightmares. It was all me. He was able to teach me what to do once these panic attacks start. Throughout our sessions the goal was for me to be able to think of the whole situation. Each day I could get further and further until I needed to stop and had had enough. Then one day I was able to do it!! I used my relaxing techniques to get me through it. It was an amazing day. I don't know if I have ever felt more accomplished in my life.
I was able to go through my L&D clinicals, and not only survive them but leave with a renewed love for it. That has always been my goal when I started the process to become a nurse. I had momentarily been scared that I would have to find somewhere else to go. I will be a labor and delivery nurse.
The months following had their ups and downs. Trying to juggle the riggers and drama of nursing school while trying to stay on top of my illness was rough. Sometimes I was better than others. Sometimes I was better to others. And my husband. Poor Chris has had to deal with psycho-stressed-out wife too many times. He has had the brunt of it. We have struggled as a couple on a few things. But we have made it work. I love him.
As each day goes, I am left with a deeper passion that this is my calling. I was made to be a nurse. Before nursing school I wanted to be a nurse. Now I NEED to be a nurse. I can't think of myself as anything but one. I don't know why I never thought of nursing growing up. It was never on my radar as anything. But I am so glad that it got there somehow.
And so now, here I am. 3 semesters down. 1 to go. I am mentally stable. I am so blessed to be in the program I'm in with teachers who are more than understanding. I would have walked out and never come back. I love my class. I love my friends that I have made. I was really worried that I would be that awkward girl in the corner that was just kind of there. I guess I have grown up since high school. lol. But I have made friends, who will probably stay friends my whole life. Its kind of strange coming from me.
For the past year I have lived, breathed, and drank nursing school. It is hard to believe that in a few short months it will all be over and it will all be a distant memory.... or nightmare depending on what test I'm thinking about. Ava's birth changed me more than I ever thought possible. I am a much more independent, confident person. Life is a gift. literally. It has taught me that humans are more resilient that I ever thought possible. I mean, who goes from their deathbed at the hospital to being at the bedside of others in a hospital in a matter of weeks. The human body is amazing. It can put up with so much. Some doctors are stupid. ....its up to me to stand up to them!! I am not the weak and timid Alicia of the past. I am strong. I am Alicia RN....ok. maybe not yet. But oh so soon!!!!!
Monday, October 28, 2013
shadows
Today I cry. I cry for that girl in the bed screaming in pain. I cry for continual healing and empathy. I cry for those who have yet to endure this torment.
I morn for the girl I used to be. The girl who thought I could do anything. The girl who only saw life as rainbows. I miss that girl. Honestly I do. Now all I look for is for something to go wrong. Just waiting.
How do you go on from this? I'm trying the best I can. How do I make the nightmares stop at night. Or at least make me dream. I don't dream anymore.
Sometimes I just feel like I am living in a shadow. I just want to step out into the sun. But this Shadow has protected me for over a year. I don't even know if I would know what to do if I were to make that jump.
So for tonight I cry.
I morn for the girl I used to be. The girl who thought I could do anything. The girl who only saw life as rainbows. I miss that girl. Honestly I do. Now all I look for is for something to go wrong. Just waiting.
How do you go on from this? I'm trying the best I can. How do I make the nightmares stop at night. Or at least make me dream. I don't dream anymore.
Sometimes I just feel like I am living in a shadow. I just want to step out into the sun. But this Shadow has protected me for over a year. I don't even know if I would know what to do if I were to make that jump.
So for tonight I cry.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Peace
I am half way through precepting. And want to know what? I am actually sad. I don't want to leave. I don't know if I will ever be there. I can hope. I can pray, but who knows. This last couple of weeks has been probably the hardest have had to deal with in a long time. Its hard not to think about my own birth process when its there in front of you for 12+ hours. Its even harder when you have PTSD that causes these memories to be.... I guess more than memories. My first 3 shifts I was constantly on the verge of falling, or actually falling as the moments took me.
I have finished 5 shifts and I did not have one panic attack the last two. I spent a lot of time in OR. I was worried about that as the OR was a big part of my situation. Each step I took in there I could feel myself getting stronger and stronger. There would be moments I would let my mind wonder, and I had the control to say you know what mind, this isn't your party. I'm not going to do your bidding today. And I didn't. I stayed tear free the whole day.
Then my last day we were going to help receive a baby in the room I had Ava in. I didn't even flinch walking in and seeing the mom there ready to give birth. We ended up not actually staying for the actual birth for some reason. But it wasn't because I couldn't do it. Do you know how amazing that is?!?
I am still going to struggle. Heck I still do. There is not a day that goes by that I am reminded of that day for some reason. And want to know the sucky thing...I never see it as a day of happiness for bringing me Ava. But I just have to remember that I have had many many happy days with her. That one day does not define me or my relationship with my daughter.
Many people have told me that I am strong to be there blah blah blah. I have a hard time hearing that. I don't know why. I don't really feel strong. I am just doing what needs to be done. Who gets this kind of opportunity? not very many.
I have yet to see the nurse that I had. I work the opposite shift. I really hope that I get to see her and tell her thank you. There have been so many times throughout this crazy year called nursing school that I have thought of her and how she treated me. I hope that I will be such a great nurse as she was to me. I am forever grateful for her for so many reasons. And the thought that she will play such a large part of my life from here on out, yet I was only her patient for 12 hours shows me just how impactful a nurse can be. We can make or break someone's hospital stay. I am so honored to be a part of this humbling field. And while I have all of a sudden turned sappy, I am so grateful for my friends and family who have helped me through this last year, and especially the last few weeks. Everyone has known just what I needed to hear. Everyone's kind thoughts mean the world to me. Seriously. I am so blessed.
I have finished 5 shifts and I did not have one panic attack the last two. I spent a lot of time in OR. I was worried about that as the OR was a big part of my situation. Each step I took in there I could feel myself getting stronger and stronger. There would be moments I would let my mind wonder, and I had the control to say you know what mind, this isn't your party. I'm not going to do your bidding today. And I didn't. I stayed tear free the whole day.
Then my last day we were going to help receive a baby in the room I had Ava in. I didn't even flinch walking in and seeing the mom there ready to give birth. We ended up not actually staying for the actual birth for some reason. But it wasn't because I couldn't do it. Do you know how amazing that is?!?
I am still going to struggle. Heck I still do. There is not a day that goes by that I am reminded of that day for some reason. And want to know the sucky thing...I never see it as a day of happiness for bringing me Ava. But I just have to remember that I have had many many happy days with her. That one day does not define me or my relationship with my daughter.
Many people have told me that I am strong to be there blah blah blah. I have a hard time hearing that. I don't know why. I don't really feel strong. I am just doing what needs to be done. Who gets this kind of opportunity? not very many.
I have yet to see the nurse that I had. I work the opposite shift. I really hope that I get to see her and tell her thank you. There have been so many times throughout this crazy year called nursing school that I have thought of her and how she treated me. I hope that I will be such a great nurse as she was to me. I am forever grateful for her for so many reasons. And the thought that she will play such a large part of my life from here on out, yet I was only her patient for 12 hours shows me just how impactful a nurse can be. We can make or break someone's hospital stay. I am so honored to be a part of this humbling field. And while I have all of a sudden turned sappy, I am so grateful for my friends and family who have helped me through this last year, and especially the last few weeks. Everyone has known just what I needed to hear. Everyone's kind thoughts mean the world to me. Seriously. I am so blessed.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
strength
I am in my last semester of nursing school. This semester we precept, where we follow the same nurse for 12 of their shifts. You spend all of nursing school thinking about precepting, and where your dream floor would be. Sometimes, if you time it right it can become a good foot in the door once you leave. I knew a long time ago that I wanted to do Labor and Delivery. No, not wanted to do L&D, but NEEDED to do L&D. I needed to prove that I can do it. I needed to show myself that I cannot let this define and rule my life. So that was my goal for the past year. Then my teacher who just so happens to be a midwife who used to deliver babies at the hospital where I had Ava. She said she could get me an awesome preceptor. So when the list came around to write the top 3 places we wanted to go for some unknown reason I wrote that hospital as my first choice. What was I thinking!?! I found out that my teacher was able to get me on that floor back in July. I was super excited that I was able to do labor and delivery. I was somewhat concerned to go back, but figured I would have enough time to grow and get used to the idea. Time grew and I got more and more excited.
Well, 3 days before my first shift I was driving by the hospital and all of a sudden it all came crushing down. I cried for probably 10 minutes on my drive. Had I made the wrong choice? How could I be so foolish to think that I can do this??? I was so tempted to call my teacher and tell her that I couldn't do it anymore. If it wasn't 11 PM, I probably would have. So instead I called my best friend and cried for another 10 minutes. All of a sudden the day I had been looking forward to became a day of dread. Somehow the days between then and my first day seamed to go faster that humanly possible.
All of a sudden I was driving myself to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. Blaring the radio. I was not ready. This was too soon. I thought about turning back so many times. But somehow I did it. I parked, collected myself, and walked in. The elevator opens up and if you look straight ahead you see one room door. That happened to be THE room door. Take a deep breath, Alicia. Here we go.
We got our day going and miraculously I was kept my cool. My first delivery, I stood there as the tech was setting up. BAM! flashback number two. Deep breath. I got through the delivery ok, my heart raced a bit after the baby was delivered until the placenta came out. Then mom held the baby for the first time. BAM. Flashback number three. Or I guess you could call it a flashback. More sadness, as that's what I wanted sooooo bad. That's why I went through my10 hour pictocin induced contractions naturally. I didn't want to be stuck to my bed. I wanted to hold my baby right away, put her to the breast and have a great nurser. I wanted to be one of those granola mamas. But instead all that pain was pointless. I did not get that moment after birth I had waited for for ooooh about 4 years. And I still want that moment, but now know that that won't happen.
But I didn't have time to dwell on that, because there was a baby down the hall minutes from being born. So we rushed down there. That birth turned out a lot better. My nurse was charging, so she wasn't in the room, so I couldn't do anything but watch. But that was fine. It can be done. Birth doesn't have to be scary.
I left that day feeling 10 times better than when I started the shift. Maybe I can do this after all.
Day two was today. My nurse gave me a tour. All of a sudden she was showing me the OR. BAM flashback x10. Those are the memories that I hate the most. luckily that was at the end of the tour and the next thing was a bathroom down the hall, so I excused myself. And I cried. And cried. and screamed. And perhaps cried some more. But then I was done. It was done. I truly hope that that is my turning point.
I really can do this. I am as strong as I hoped. I have yet to actually step in the doors of my room or the OR. So those days may be challenging. But I have faith that I am there for a reason. I can do it. And I will. I can still use your prayers and kind thoughts during this next month. But for now, today, I feel like this is where I am supposed to do.
Well, 3 days before my first shift I was driving by the hospital and all of a sudden it all came crushing down. I cried for probably 10 minutes on my drive. Had I made the wrong choice? How could I be so foolish to think that I can do this??? I was so tempted to call my teacher and tell her that I couldn't do it anymore. If it wasn't 11 PM, I probably would have. So instead I called my best friend and cried for another 10 minutes. All of a sudden the day I had been looking forward to became a day of dread. Somehow the days between then and my first day seamed to go faster that humanly possible.
All of a sudden I was driving myself to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. Blaring the radio. I was not ready. This was too soon. I thought about turning back so many times. But somehow I did it. I parked, collected myself, and walked in. The elevator opens up and if you look straight ahead you see one room door. That happened to be THE room door. Take a deep breath, Alicia. Here we go.
We got our day going and miraculously I was kept my cool. My first delivery, I stood there as the tech was setting up. BAM! flashback number two. Deep breath. I got through the delivery ok, my heart raced a bit after the baby was delivered until the placenta came out. Then mom held the baby for the first time. BAM. Flashback number three. Or I guess you could call it a flashback. More sadness, as that's what I wanted sooooo bad. That's why I went through my10 hour pictocin induced contractions naturally. I didn't want to be stuck to my bed. I wanted to hold my baby right away, put her to the breast and have a great nurser. I wanted to be one of those granola mamas. But instead all that pain was pointless. I did not get that moment after birth I had waited for for ooooh about 4 years. And I still want that moment, but now know that that won't happen.
But I didn't have time to dwell on that, because there was a baby down the hall minutes from being born. So we rushed down there. That birth turned out a lot better. My nurse was charging, so she wasn't in the room, so I couldn't do anything but watch. But that was fine. It can be done. Birth doesn't have to be scary.
I left that day feeling 10 times better than when I started the shift. Maybe I can do this after all.
Day two was today. My nurse gave me a tour. All of a sudden she was showing me the OR. BAM flashback x10. Those are the memories that I hate the most. luckily that was at the end of the tour and the next thing was a bathroom down the hall, so I excused myself. And I cried. And cried. and screamed. And perhaps cried some more. But then I was done. It was done. I truly hope that that is my turning point.
I really can do this. I am as strong as I hoped. I have yet to actually step in the doors of my room or the OR. So those days may be challenging. But I have faith that I am there for a reason. I can do it. And I will. I can still use your prayers and kind thoughts during this next month. But for now, today, I feel like this is where I am supposed to do.
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