I've finally let it go. All of the sadness, anger, anxiety, and depression from the traumatic experiences of the past three months. I haven't been able to enjoy spending time with my precious baby, because my mind and heart were clouded with all that I couldn't let go. On saturday, the NICU at the Johnson City Medical Center had footprints taken for the wall. Anyone who was and/or has a baby that was in the NICU was invited to come and post their hand or footprint on the wall. I definitely wanted to take Savannah, as she was a NICU baby and survivor.
The night before, I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. The thoughts of going back to the hospital literally had me frozen with fear. All the feelings of neglect, pain, hopelessness, fear-- they all came back. What should've been a joyous occasion became one of dread. I almost decided not to go. I had a great excuse. I was absolutely dead with a cold/sinus infection, but knew going was the right thing to do.
It was right, on so many levels. Chris and I parked near the Women's Center, the site of my first trauma, and entered with Savannah. I felt all of the emotions rushing back. The anxiety. The fear. The anger-- it filled me. Right behind me, was the Same-Day Surgery Center-- the place where my fistula surgery took place. I felt anger as I thought about it. Dr. Hinton did a great job with the surgery, that's not the problem, the problem was it didn't stay. Back to the surgery. I had never been wheeled into an operating room. I was completely conscious, and completely terrified. It's the most terrifying feeling being conscious, on an operating table, and alone. I wasn't alone-- obviously there were nurses, and Dr. Hinton was there, holding my hand until I was out, but I felt alone. I took it all with strength, because I KNEW I was going to get better.
While Chris and I walked down the long hall, I turned around. I realized that the pain and surgery seemed to be all for nothing. I wanted to turn and run out of the hospital. The Johnson City Medical Center was the last place in the world I wanted to be, but I kept on going. We stepped off the elevator and headed to the NICU. That was a walk I used to dread. Anyone who's been the mother (or family member) of a NICU baby knows that dread. As we rounded the corner, it was actually a happy sight.
Savannah's nurse, Judy was there to welcome us, along with several other nurses and people. There were several people and children of all ages there having their hand or footprints made for the wall. In all, we probably weren't there a total of 15 minutes.
As we left, I was never so thankful to be leaving some place in all my life. I had no idea how much walking out the door of that hospital really did for me. It freed me. All of the anger, resentment, fear, sadness, depression, hopelessness, anxiety-- I left it all the door, literally. I had been suffering with severe post-partum depression and post-traumatic stress syndrome. I saw no joy in my life. No hope, no happiness-- everyday I lived, I didn't live, I merely existed. To be quite honest with you, most days, I didn't want to live. Had I not had the great support system of my beloved family and friends, I probably would've committed suicide. *NOTE: I did not and have not comtemplated suicide-- I'm only speculating on how I would feel if I were going through all of this alone*
I'm thankful for today. I'm thankful for my beautiful baby, wonderful family and friends, and most of all God, for never leaving me. This is the third time, there truly was only one set of footprints-- because he carried me through it all.
For all of my friends that are currently TTC, please, let me stress something to you-- PLEASE make sure you have a good support system. I PRAY that none of you will EVER have to go through what I've been through, BUT if you do, you need help. This is something most people don't talk about. When you're TTC and wanting a baby so badly, you don't realize all of the things that could go wrong. I don't think anyone is ever prepared to be neglected by health care "professionals" during labor. Nor are they prepared to give birth to a child who isn't breathing-- and tests positive for Group B Strep, when you tested negative. No one is prepared to have to leave their baby in the NICU, nor are they prepared to deal with a fistula, and surgery that wasn't a complete success. On top of that, no one is really prepared to deal with post-partum depression. It's real. It can be severe. It's heartbreaking, and most people won't tell you about it. I will.
Being a mother is the hardest thing I've ever done. As hard as pregnancy was, being pregnant was the easy part. I'm not trying to scare anyone here, what I'm trying to do is tell you what I wish someone had told me-- things can go wrong. When and if things go wrong, you need a lot strength and support before you even think about bringing a baby into the world, make sure you have both.
If you or someone you know is suffering with post-partum depression, don't be ashamed to ask for help. It takes a strong person to know that they can't deal with something on their own.











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