I have been avoiding you. Several times in the past week I have thought of posting something glib and amusing, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so—I do try to be honest here, and honestly? I am not doing well.
Lately I have taken to writing this entry in my head as I go about my day, only to sit down at my computer and lose my nerve. If you are still trying to get pregnant, this may not be the post for you. May I suggest instead a Google image search for “baby goat?” You won’t be disappointed.
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I can’t remember for certain when it started, but my guess is Christmas Eve. I think at the beginning it was some combination of weather-induced house arrest during the darkest pit of a Minnesota winter and too many days off work with nothing to do but wander the dim corridors of my own mind. It began with a constant low-level anxiety that soared into a panic attack if I dared take a midday nap (an odd phenomenon I have experienced before, waking from a nap into anxious despair). Going back to work helped, a little, but then it was the weekend again, and things disintegrated rapidly into profound, constant anxiety with the occasional panic attack and crying jag. I started having trouble eating and began to worry over the fact that while I have had only one abnormal sugar since being back on the Metformin, I am not eating nearly the amount of food required by my GD meal plan, making the time before meals fraught as I scramble to think of something, anything I can bear to consume.
During all this, Scott was sparring with our upstairs neighbors, a pair of young, loutish drunks who moved in recently and have taken to playing bass-heavy music and tromping about at all hours of the night. Scott called the police once or twice, and slipped into a funk of his own, deciding we should move as soon as as our lease is up—perhaps buy a house, now that I have decided to stay in the Twin Cities for grad school. The talk of moving two months after giving birth to twins nudged my anxiety further skyward, and I resorted to taking a dose of the anti-anxiety medicine I had managed to avoid all pregnancy long (though I have continued my Zoloft).
Over the weekend things went from anguished to anguisheder and Scott rushed home from work to comfort me during a particularly bad spell. Seeing him worry makes me feel terrible, and I think I have said “I’m sorry” more in the past week than in the rest of my life combined.
Monday morning was my level II ultrasound, an event I had been looking forward to for weeks, but which I found difficult to enjoy over the nauseated thrum of panic behind my sternum. For parts of it I felt strangely detached, and horrified at myself for feeling such detachment, though eventually I was able to get into the spirit of things, laughing at the antics of my wiggly babies and marveling over their perfect feet. My peri visit after the ultrasound helped a bit as well—the Science Babies were pronounced “ideal,” and my weight gain has miraculously caught up at 18 pounds, despite my lackluster appetite.
But back at home, things veered back to awful, and that night I reached my lowest point:
Panicked and desperate to regain the bliss I had felt only a week before (had it only been a week?) when I started feeling the bubbles of fetal movement, I took out my new ultrasound pictures. To my horror, looking at them resulted not in a warm, maternal feeling, but an immediate wallop of nausea and terror as I realized that currently residing inside my abdomen were two entire, separate-from-me human beings, for whom I was and would be completely responsible. They felt like strangers. And following closely upon the terror of that reaction was a wave of shame and self-hatred the likes of which I have never felt before. How could I be afraid of my own babies? How could I be afraid of what I spent three years trying for? What was wrong with me? What if I couldn’t do this? What if this was a mistake? Could the babies tell how I was feeling? What if I am too anxious to take care of them? What if they hate me?
Cue anguished sobs. It was hours before I could bring myself to tell Scott what was wrong, and even then I couldn’t look him in the eyes as a refrain of “Bad Mother, Bad Mother” hissed through my head.
Yesterday was brutal, but last night the clouds parted briefly after I took another forbidden anti-anxiety pill. (Not exactly forbidden—I am allowed to take them for panic attacks now that I am out of the first trimester, but no one seems clear on how often is safe). I ate a large piece of cheese. Scott and I talked and laughed and went to bed early. Hope glinted distantly on the horizon. Alas, I woke to a slate wiped clean of progress.
So here is where I am today: I can’t eat, and am perpetually on the verge of tears. I thought the second trimester was supposed to be the even-keeled golden-period of pregnancy, and instead here I am, at twenty weeks, miserable and hating myself for it. A week ago I was wandering around in a happy daze, tapping my belly to get the babies to move. A week ago looking at a onesie gave me a thrill of excitement, instead of propelling me out the doorway of Target to hyperventilate in my car. I don’t know what happened. Rationally I know that the anxiety caused the baby-related panic and feelings of incompetence, but the anxiety is still squatting unwelcome in my chest, making rationality difficult to sustain. And I don’t know what caused the anxiety. I want desperately to believe that this is hormonal, as the last time I felt this way was was almost exactly a year ago (see this post), after a stressful chemical pregnancy. But in my darker moments I think that it might instead be some fundamental and insoluble insufficiency in my mental makeup.
Don’t get me wrong, in the past week I have had my moments of clarity, moments in which I snap back to myself long enough to pat my daughter’s head where it is wedged against my ribs or assure myself that this too shall pass, but they are only that—moments—and moments just aren’t cutting it right now.
I am terrified to post this, have in fact been staring at the “publish” button for over an hour. There is a lot of pressure to be happily pregnant, and after infertility, that pressure is enough to create whole fiercely glinting diamonds of shame. However, some very kind email from concerned readers is making me temporarily courageous, so here goes nothing.
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Thank you for hitting publish. Even those of us who have not experienced what you are going through, can feel how scared you are through your excellent writing. We’re all thinking of you and hoping you get the help you need to get back that feeling of bliss.
And don’t worry about moving… you’ll have newborns, you won’t need to help! Just sit on the couch and boss your friends around. We’re “Minnesota nice” around here, remember? Plenty of people will step up to help you pack and move stuff. I had some scary upstairs neighbors once and that’s what prompted us to buy a house too. It’s so worth it! Take care.
I’ve read your post four times now from start to finish and I just couldn’t figure out what to put in a comment that might make it better or at least not make it worse. You’ve gotten lots of advice and encouraging words. But I’ll add mine nonetheless. Be kind to yourself. Take care of yourself. Don’t judge yourself while you’re in the thick of this. You’re smart to know something’s wrong, now get help from good people.
Thinking of you and wishing you more and more moments of feeling like yourself again.
I couldn’t help it, I had to delurk.
From what I understand from my friends and family, what you’re experiencing is more the norm than most will admit. I think any major change can trigger this kind of “what in the world have I done” panic, and with what you’ve endured to reach this point, I can’t imagine how anyone would think badly of you for what you’re feeling.
Alexa, honey … you are so loved. And you’re loved with all your flaws and freakouts and depression and anxiety and fear. I’ve never been pregnant, almost certainly never will be, but I suffer from anxiety and depression and panic, and so I have an inkling – if only the slightest inkling – of what you’re going through.
Just keep reminding yourself that what you’re feeling is normal, it’s understood by SO MANY WOMEN, and that it WILL get better. I know that those thoughts won’t change your emotions, but maybe they’ll help you to hang on through them. And never forget that you have a whole community of women – most of whom have never met you – who value every word you publish, no matter how hard, and who are sending prayers and loving thoughts to you every single day.
Many cyber-hugs and much affection headed your way!
I felt similar in my 2nd trimester. I felt physically much better, but mentally I kept feeling like “I am going to suck at this.” Sometimes the baby would move around and feel more like an intruder than my own flesh and blood… that I had been wanting for so long. Maybe part of it is the loss of control over your own body.. or the fear of losing your independent self. In any case, I’m now about 9 weeks away from baby time and I’m feeling more and more connected to my little guy and more excited! Hang in there. BTW, your twins are going to love their mom! As helpless as they may seem now, they will guide you in their care later.
For what it is worth, and this is in no way meant to negate the authentic emotions you are having, pregnancy brings out the anxiety and doubt in all of us. Breathe, lean and trust.
Hormones run rampant in the 2nd trimester, not to mention how much you have been through! Give yourself a little credit for having even the slightest moment of peace. Its really scary to all of the sudden realize how real all of this is and to top it all off, realize that you are now in charge of raising another person, let alone 2.
This too shall pass, you will come to a time where you will do nothing but enjoy the rest of the pregnancy.
You are going to be a great mother, it is by far the biggest instinct women have, I hope you feel better soon!
You feel what you feel, you know? You can’t change it. You suffer from depression, and so therefore, from time to time, you are going to be depressed. It must be so much more scary while pregnant. I am so sorry! *hug* Just be sure you talk to your doctor and get some help, if you can. Also – your dose of zoloft could probably stand to be adjusted since you have put on weight and have increased your blood volume. Just a thought.
Thinking of and praying for you!
Just adding one more voice to the chorus of very wise women who have already responded to your incredibly brave and beautiful post — we care about you, we believe in you, and we’re here for you. It’s often hard to see out from under the mind-induced (or hormone-induced) scary places. Try to take things one breath at a time and treat yourself gently.
For me, the 2nd trimester was the trimester of “We are all going to die”. First and third went beautifully, but I would wake up in the middle of the night during the 2nd, with the full knowledge that I was mortal, everyone was mortal, death was imminent, and the universe was uncaring. My husband would wake to find me in tears, babbling incoherently about the impermanence and pointlessness of all things.
I also did not feel an immediate bond with my son when he was born. It was a gradual and building love.
The only unusual thing about me, is that I never view these so-called “atypical” moments as indicative that there is something fundamentally wrong with me. I wasn’t shocked that I didn’t immediately bond with my son, and I wasn’t shocked at my profound negativity during my 2nd trimester. People are universally polite and gloss over the low points of their lives. I figure I am typical. If i’m not, please don’t enlighten me otherwise.
The only assvice I can give, is that I’ve been reading articles that say people who deal best with depression are those who concentrate on accomplishing only immediate goals. Like when you are running a marathon, you only concentrate on putting your foot down one after the next.
Also, watching the movie “Touching the Void” always makes me feel better for some reason. Perseverance in the face of adversity!! It might freak you out though.
Good luck! You sound perfectly normal to me, at least.
I’m glad to hear that the Science Babies are okay (and kicking!) as the beginning of this post had me a bit worried. Please don’t be afraid to tell the internet what you’re going through — you don’t have to be witty every day, you know. We like to hear from you anyway.
I’m so sorry to hear you are feeling this way. I think we all (women who are or have been pregnant) have felt some version of this, although I would say your level of anxiety sounds excruciating. It will pass, but oh, how I know how difficult it is to keep that in mind when you are in the throes of anxiety and/or depression. I know that feeling of, “this is reality and how I felt before (good) was just delusional…” I would say it is hormones, coupled with or exacerbating what may be a “chemical imbalance,” but I know those are just words right now and don’t help. I was often panicked and regretful while pregnant, and I didn’t have the the pressure of previous fertility problems to make me feel like I had to be grateful. I also wasn’t carrying twins, for god’s sake. In other words, you sound normal to me. I hope that you find yourself on the upswing of this very quickly, and that you be gentle with yourself. No more guilt! I’m thinking of you.
Thank you so much for sharing this with us. And thank you to everyone who commented and admitted they two felt similar when they were pregnant.
What you described is so similar to what I was feeling this summer when I was sixish months pregnant. There were days when I had to leave work because I would start crying and couldn’t stop. Some days when I couldn’t even get out of bed. It was scary because I was never quite sure what set me off. It lasted a few weeks and then subsided and the rest of my pregnancy was fairly even.
Then post partum depression hit three weeks after I had the baby in November. It was much worse. Be prepared for that!
And all those thoughts about what have I done? Me too. I really think we spend so much time chasing the dream that we forget what to do when we actually get there.
All in all though, it has been so worth it. As I sit here with my little boy in my lap watching him make his funny old man faces in his sleep and listening to him fart.
Me too. What they said.
Really, I’ve been meaning to delurk for a couple weeks now and chime in that as far as I’m concerned the “happy pregnancy” thing is a myth. I was pretty miserable, too, and always freaking out about something. I do think working full-time helped, because I thought less about myself and (da-da-dum) The Future when I was focused on a project or a deadline.
It’s pretty draining, the whole thing, but (to spout more cliches) it’s totally worth it. I know you know that, but I’m just saying. It’s really worth it, and it’s really going to be ok. It really is.
Love and hugs from another internet stranger :)
Delurking to say I am glad you posted. I know it’s not about me but gosh I was worried about you and the babies. I’m sorry you are having a difficult time. Just know that you’ve got fans and friends who care about you and wish you well.
Alexa, infertiles are like the goths of the pregnancy world. We are fraught with drama, never completely happy and never able to relax. So please don’t worry about being happily pregnant because that is just stress you don’t need. Be as unhappily pregnant as you need; if it helps, I am terrified that this adoption that I want so badly will actually happen and then HOLY COW I WILL BE A MOMMY AND I AM NOT EVEN REMOTELY QUALIFIED!!! It’s way easier to want than to actually have.
That being said, I am sorry this is such a living hell for you and I wish I could make you feel better. Just let it all out, babe. We love you. *hugs*
I can tell you that I had every one of the thoughts that you’re having during my pregnancy, despite how desperately I wanted my daughter.
“What am I doing? I’ve never held a newborn in my life! How am I qualified to do this??”
However, these thoughts were not coupled with depression, GD, uncertainty about the future, starting grad school and noisy asshole neighbors. The fact that you are still standing is miracle enough. You may feel like the underside of an oil barrel, but you are coping. Your babies will grow up knowing that they were supremely wanted- enough for you to go through hell and back.
Keep fighting the good fight.
Oh Alexa, I’m so sorry you are going through such an awful funk right now. I remember the fear during pregnancy slapping me in the face. I thought getting pregnant was going to be the hard part, but really it was only the beginning of fear. A lot of what you are fearing is “normal”, but like others have said I would definitely bring it up with the doctor. There is no reason you need to solider through such strong feelings of anxiety on your own. I tried to tough it out through some major major major post partum. When I finally said something to the doctors I got scolded for not saying something earlier. We all love you so much and see the amazing, beautiful, intelligent, and caring woman that you are even when you cannot.
Courageous indeed and I’m sorry if I get repetitive because I didn’t take in all the other comments. We’re trying (so far unsuccessfully) to get pregnant. And I (even now…before pregnancy) worry that I won’t be allowed to scream “this sucks!” or wade through feelings of regret or, ultimately, feel human.
It’s refreshing to know that people are human, with human emotions even admist dreams coming true. Nothing is all sunshine and roses in life. Not even the most glorious of days.
I wanted to desperately to get married to the man I am now married too and I feel so guilty on the days I am frustrated with him for not doing the dishes or bringing me flowers that I mutter sometimes, “being single beats this.” And it’s nice to hear just one person say, “yep, sometimes it sure does.”
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