The Storm

Of course I pictured coming home with baby Finley, being a little tired, and slowly getting into my groove. Caring for a newborn seemed challenging, but I was up for it - and excited to get back into our normal routines. Unfortunately, not everything always goes as planned.

That first evening home, I experienced my very first ever panic attack. Since I'd never had one in my life before, I didn't know what it was...I just knew that something was very wrong with me. My chest was very heavy, I was having trouble getting a breath. I could feel shots of adrenalin rushing through my arms and legs. I couldn't keep still, and I felt like I was crawling out of my skin. I woke up Brandon and told him that he had to take me to the doctors (and at that time of night, the E.R was all that was available) because something was seriously WRONG. Long story short, after being treated by an emergency room physician, I was diagnosed with Post-Partum Anxiety. Who knew that even existed? Certainly not me.

For the next two days I suffered from more panic attacks. They would just come out of nowhere. I felt so bad, I didn't know how long they were going to last or very much about them. The medication I was given did work, but I felt guilty about using it because it was not compatible with nursing. So mostly I didn't. It was only after going to visit my primary care doctor that I was able to understand what was happening to me. It was hormonal. Once my hormones went back into balance, they theoretically would stop happening. As long as I took medication when I felt the symptoms begin, I would feel better. But I wanted to nurse, so I tried my hardest not to take anything - and tried to push through the panic attacks.

Baby Finley was now 6 days old. I felt like maybe we were going to get through this ok. Then something new happened. The cramping. Really BAD cramping, like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Then came the bleeding, which wouldn't stop.

[Sorry if this is too graphic. I won't be offended if you stop reading].

So I had another major panic attack and had Brandon call 911 - I needed to get to the hospital. When the paramedics came I was a little out of it, very lightheaded from the loss of blood. They took me to the hospital and after being examined it was determined that I'd had a (rare) post c-section infection in my uterus, which resulted in the continuation of bleeding. My uterus was so big and full of blood, it was up in my chest. They were going to have to operate, and clear it out. So I had a second surgery. And due to the excessive blood loss before and during the surgery, I had to have 5 bags of blood transfused. Which pretty much took a whole day to transfer. So I spent two days in the hospital. Again. Two more days of Brandon formula feeding my baby girl. More guilt. My baby was now 8 days old and it all seemed like a blur.

The good news though: a couple of days after getting home from this second surgery, I started to feel more like myself. My color was slowly starting to return, and I was starting to get some energy back. My doctor finally prescribed me some medication that was nursing compatible, so I was able to resume nursing. Things were slowly starting to get better. I was starting to feel more like 'myself'. I was thankful to be alive, and grateful that God was watching over me. And guess what? No more panic attacks...it's been over a week. Not that they can't still happen, but I'm taking it as a good sign that it's been so long since the last one. Maybe I'm a fast hormone re-balancer?

Through it all though, Brandon has been AMAZING...and Jem has been the best helper I could have asked for. Finley is doing wonderfully, growing and changing with each passing day. Even though this past couple of weeks is nothing like I originally envisioned, I'm grateful to be here to enjoy my new baby girl and my family.