Sorting The Baby Stuff

Doing Well

Things are looking better and better.      

After reading the comments left here and talking to a friend who happens to be a psychologist as well as talking to a social worker at the hospital, I think we all agree: its PTSD (props to Julia - she told me to look for a counselor who dealt with PTSD 4 years ago...that girl has been there and done that and saw the train acomin' for me).  In fact, one person I spoke with said that its possible the PPD symptoms I had after Colin was born could actually have been PTSD as well.  After all, my first (and strongest) experience with the immediate postpartum period was one of intense grief.  Why wouldn't my mind/body/psyche have expected things to be just as bad the second time around?  

And instead of ignoring it, I have decided to deal with it.  I've got an appointment with a psychologist, who appears to be covered by our crappy insurance and has prescriptive authority, so I don't have to go to two different docs: one for counseling and one for meds.  Now we just have to cross our fingers that the two of us can work well together AND that I can see her before this baby is born - my appointment is for just 10 days before my due date, but they have me on a cancellation list, so, fingers crossed...  

I also talked to my doc about it again at yesterday's appointment.  His response was "Yeah, I knew it was PTSD last week, but figured you didn't need a label."  Huh?  I don't know if its just me he's treating this way or if he's like this with all patients, but he's pretty close-mouthed ... about everything.  I do like him, and he appears to be taking me seriously, even if he's not as forth-coming with info or as proactive as I'd like (for instance, he could have suggested counseling himself if he thought PTSD was the deal.)  He did put a note on my file about the two triggers* I'm aware of, in hopes that it would help the nurses take my requests seriously.

The result of all this is this is that I am feeling much better about things as each day passes.  I am still in no hurry to have this baby.  In fact, I told the doc yesterday that I had heard his practice didn't let women go past 41 weeks and I was wondering if that was true.  His response was that he couldn't remember the last time a patient had willingly gone to 41 weeks, and he didn't recommend it.  Oy...this sounds like a doc that likes to induce.  We'll cross that bridge in a few weeks, I'm just at 35w 4d now, so I'm thinking (hoping!) we've got time.    

* One trigger is the whole paper gown thing, which is explained at the bottom of this post.  The other one I am aware of is having the heartbeat monitor turned up too loud during labor.  When we were in labor with Adam we had no monitors because we all knew he'd be stillborn.  But they had the monitor turned up really loud on the woman in the next room.  I remember laying there just listening to that beat beat beat beat beat beat beat, and, as a consequence, I hate that sound now.  Also, this is not a trigger, but I did share with the doctor something I only told my husband last week: all brand newborn sleeping babies look dead to me.  I know they are not dead, it doesn't panic me or anything, I just look at them and think 'they look dead'.  Hope you all don't think I'm bananas.

Oh, and thanks to Duchess.  Her example of advocating for herself to the docs and nurses caring for her during Claire's birth gave the the courage to start trying to do the same.  (Yes, I know the birth story isn't there yet, give it time, lots of time, her hands are very full.  I only know the details because I was lucky enough to talk to her on the phone.)  

Hanging In There

We did go back for the 'parents only' hospital tour on Sunday, but beforehand I had a chance to tell the nurses leading the tour a smidgen about our history and what had happened the day before.  I thought things were fine, but then as I stepped into a very frigid labor/delivery suite it suddenly looked like heat waves were coming up from the floor - everything was wiggling, so I backed out of there fast.  I stood just outside the door of the suites for the rest of the tour with my back turned away so I couldn't see in, but I could still hear the information.  

I also had a good talk with my husband Saturday night about what all had happened and how I was feeling. He doesn't get it at all really, but he tries to be as supportive as he can be in his way.  It felt good to get it out, and to kind of share the burden with the other person who will be there with me at the time this baby is delivered.  

I took another big step too: I talked to the doctor about PPD and what happened this weekend at my appointment today.  As for PPD, he said there's about a 50/50 chance I'll get it again, and what he usually does is prescribe drugs from the moment the baby is born, just to head it off.  He also said that my reaction this weekend was understandable, that Adam's birth was probably the single most emotional event of my life and it only makes sense for any other major emotional event (like the birth of a new baby, in very similar surroundings) to intersect with that.  He said its normal, and really is a sign of mental health, that everything in my brain is connecting an clicking along like it should be.  He also said the hospital has social workers and whatnot available if I'm having issues while I'm there.  

So, I did some good JDE housekeeping today, and I'm feeling okay about stuff, at least for the moment.  And Lala, I think you were right on your comment on my last post, it probably is PTSD, and if I thought there was any chance I'd ever be pregnant again, I'd look into dealing with it.  But, since I don't plan to ever be in this position again, I'm just going to get through this bout and move on.  

Not My Best Day

Took Colin to a little "I'm having a sibling" class at the hospital this morning.  Since we just moved to Baton Rouge in January, this was our first time to see the hospital at which we will be delivering As Yet Unnamed New Baby.  Part of the class included a mini-tour of the hospital.  And just like three years ago, when we toured the hospital for Colin's birth, I lost it.  I'm not sure I can even tell you exactly why, but I'm guessing its a combination of Adam stuff and anxiety about this upcoming birth.

By the time I turned around to tell my husband I was having a hard time, tears were streaming down my face.  I could tell something was welling up as I got the sweats in the post-birth suite we were touring.  In fact, I actually kinda stood outside the room, mostly because it was full, but I knew something wasn't right.  All I kept thinking about was Adam's birth, which is weird...why wouldn't that experience in one of these kinds of rooms be replaced with the joyful event of Colin's birth?  I almost felt chased down...hunted by those memories.  And the thing is, I actually remember feeling good things in the moments after Adam's birth (of course, that was before I felt the intenseness of the grief).

Unfortunately, we have a parents only tour of the hospital scheduled for tomorrow.  I feel like I need the information that will be given to us at that tour, because we really have no idea what all to expect at this place,* but the thought of another 45 minutes in that situation is suffocating me.   

*We did learn one thing today: after they bathe the baby for the first time they put them in a paper gown.  That screams DEAD BABY to me.  No other baby of mine can be in a paper gown.  I never saw Adam in one, but the nurse told me that's what they'd put him in after they took off his little outfit to give it to us.  I would have never thought to bring any baby clothes other than a going home outfit, but I'll pack him a whole mess of clothes now.