I have been really frustrated lately about how hard it has been for me to move on with my life. Every morning when I wake up, I tell myself that I'm not going to think about the NICU today, that I'll concentrate on whatever is going on that day and force myself to push all the obsessive thinking out of my head. But still, no matter what I do, memories come creeping back into my thought patterns, and I can't help but dwell on the same.things.over.and.over.
The hardest part for me to accept is what an literal miracle it was that 1.Nick is alive, and 2. That I stayed pregnant long enough to give Nick an easy stay in the NICU and avoid the major complications of prematurity. I keep thinking to myself how easily Nick could have died so many different times, and maybe it sounds selfish or self centered, but I think coming so close to losing your child is a burden to carry in it's own right. I just don't know how I'm supposed to have gone through an experience like the NICU and then go back to teaching, or running errands, or going out with friends like I used to do. I'm worried the NICU changed me to the point where I can never go back to being my who I was one year ago.
But then, a large part of me feels called to work in the field of prematurity and high-risk pregnancies. I have applied to social work programs with the goal of becoming a perinatal social worker, and I am in the process of trying to starting a branch of the amazing nonprofit, High Risk Hope, at my hospital. Just yesterday, a girl I grew up with shared on Facebook how she delivered her baby eight weeks early do to complications of preeclampsia. I messaged her to tell her I had an idea of what she was going through, that I would be praying for her, and gave her my phone number in case she ever needed to talk. She thanked me for reaching out, and then asked me how I got through it. I remember so clearly that devastation and fear that comes when you first realize what it means to have a child in the NICU, and I hope that I made her feel a little more comforted. My point in sharing this is because I feel like a lot of good has come from my experience, and I can pay it forward in a way that benefits other preemie moms in my community. Then again, my husband thinks it's unhealthy to be doing so much related to the NICU (like writing this blog,) and maybe that's why I feel so stuck. I just don't know how to get back to normal and move past to everything that has happened this year.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Saturday, September 15, 2018
Moving On
Today, I had a moment where I felt like I just couldn't do the NICU anymore. I think it's because today is NICU Nurse's Day, so my normal social media news feed was full of preemie baby pictures and (much deserved!) notes of gratitude for Nick's nurses that I am friends with. One of the reasons why I started an Instagram account to coincide with my blog was so that I could keep my NICU related accounts/activities separate from my "normal" social media, so I think seeing so much preemie talk on my personal Facebook made today a little more emotionally tiring (even if it was for the best cause!)
It's funny how our minds work. One of the things I am working on in therapy is the fact that I literally never stop thinking about my pregnancy and the NICU. I replay images, conversations, sensations, etc, on repeat all day in my head. It's like listening to the same song over and over again, except instead of a song, it's the same thoughts and memories over and over and over…and then the more I dwell on certain memories, the more anxious I become, and before long I'm totally wrapped up in my own head. Staying home with my kids this year makes it especially challenging, because on most days I have little to no adult interaction (besides my husband,) and, since I'm around Nick 24/7, it's so hard to stop myself from thinking about his birth.
I also know I'm not helping myself by choosing to write this blog and run this account, because I'm willingly bringing myself back to the NICU every day. I could just delete this account, erase my blog, stop writing, and totally block out everything that reminds me of our time in the hospital. On some days I think this would help-to make a clean break and just acknowledge that I had a difficult pregnancy, and that Nick was born 10 weeks prematurely and spent eight weeks in the NICU, and leave it at that. It was just something that happened to us, and there's no reason to keep dwelling and dwelling and talking and writing about it. I have to eventually get over it, and it's tempting just to make up my mind that the NICU is in the past and close the emotional door on it completely. Thousands of babies around the world get admitted to the NICU every year, and we certainly aren't unique. And yet.
There's memories that pop into my head, like the one I was thinking of today: On the day after Nick was born, I remember asking one of his nurses when I would be able to take him home. She responded that he was at least five weeks away from being able to eat on his own, so it would be a minimum of five weeks until he could leave, but I should plan on Nick staying until his due date, ten weeks away. I remember not being able to breathe and thinking that was the worst thing anyone has ever said to me. It's memories like that, that are still so fresh and still make me cry, that I feel like I need to talk about. I've also always been a big believer in the idea that everything we experience in life is for a reason. I've thought about doing this-writing and advocating for NICU families-for a living, and am in the process of applying to some graduate programs in social work to potentially pursue a career as a perinatal social worker. Starting a brand new career would be a good explanation as to why I had a pregnancy complication that only 1% of all pregnant women experience. It's a lot easier to try and read meaning into a totally random, out of the blue health complication than to accept that the NICU was just something that happened and move on with my life. But still, it's me willingly inserting myself back into the NICU world, and I don't know if I could handle living the NICU day in and day out for the rest of my professional career.
I'm sorry this post is rambling, but that's how I feel my mind is these days. I keep telling my husband that I'm having an almost-30-year-old life crisis, but it's true. I went through this incredible, life changing experience less than a year ago, and I don't know how to just put it all in my pocket and move on.
It's funny how our minds work. One of the things I am working on in therapy is the fact that I literally never stop thinking about my pregnancy and the NICU. I replay images, conversations, sensations, etc, on repeat all day in my head. It's like listening to the same song over and over again, except instead of a song, it's the same thoughts and memories over and over and over…and then the more I dwell on certain memories, the more anxious I become, and before long I'm totally wrapped up in my own head. Staying home with my kids this year makes it especially challenging, because on most days I have little to no adult interaction (besides my husband,) and, since I'm around Nick 24/7, it's so hard to stop myself from thinking about his birth.
I also know I'm not helping myself by choosing to write this blog and run this account, because I'm willingly bringing myself back to the NICU every day. I could just delete this account, erase my blog, stop writing, and totally block out everything that reminds me of our time in the hospital. On some days I think this would help-to make a clean break and just acknowledge that I had a difficult pregnancy, and that Nick was born 10 weeks prematurely and spent eight weeks in the NICU, and leave it at that. It was just something that happened to us, and there's no reason to keep dwelling and dwelling and talking and writing about it. I have to eventually get over it, and it's tempting just to make up my mind that the NICU is in the past and close the emotional door on it completely. Thousands of babies around the world get admitted to the NICU every year, and we certainly aren't unique. And yet.
There's memories that pop into my head, like the one I was thinking of today: On the day after Nick was born, I remember asking one of his nurses when I would be able to take him home. She responded that he was at least five weeks away from being able to eat on his own, so it would be a minimum of five weeks until he could leave, but I should plan on Nick staying until his due date, ten weeks away. I remember not being able to breathe and thinking that was the worst thing anyone has ever said to me. It's memories like that, that are still so fresh and still make me cry, that I feel like I need to talk about. I've also always been a big believer in the idea that everything we experience in life is for a reason. I've thought about doing this-writing and advocating for NICU families-for a living, and am in the process of applying to some graduate programs in social work to potentially pursue a career as a perinatal social worker. Starting a brand new career would be a good explanation as to why I had a pregnancy complication that only 1% of all pregnant women experience. It's a lot easier to try and read meaning into a totally random, out of the blue health complication than to accept that the NICU was just something that happened and move on with my life. But still, it's me willingly inserting myself back into the NICU world, and I don't know if I could handle living the NICU day in and day out for the rest of my professional career.
I'm sorry this post is rambling, but that's how I feel my mind is these days. I keep telling my husband that I'm having an almost-30-year-old life crisis, but it's true. I went through this incredible, life changing experience less than a year ago, and I don't know how to just put it all in my pocket and move on.
Monday, September 3, 2018
Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts
The most frustrating part of recovering from my high-risk pregnancy and our experience in the NICU has been that I can't stop thinking about it. Literally. When I wake up in the morning, I tell myself that I'm not going to think about the NICU today, that I will catch myself when my brain starts to wander and change my thinking to focus on something more productive, and I will take measures to help myself move past the NICU (such as exercise, cleaning, new projects, etc.) But, it's hard. During the day when I am minding my own business, I will suddenly start thinking about the moments before my c-section. I hate that my mind has been doing this, because 1.I am so tired of thinking the same thoughts again and again, 2. It gives me anxiety to relive all these traumatic events, and 3. I know I need and want to move on with my life
I replay the same thing over and over in my mind-ultrasounds, appointments when we found out bad news, waking up and finding out I had had another bleed, the c-section, etc, and it's exhausting and frustrating and harder to stop thinking about than it might seem. At first, I didn't realize how obsessed with my pregnancy I had become, and it wasn't until recently (see my post about Christmas!) that thinking about these thoughts started giving me anxiety. Now that it is getting closer to the anniversary of my first bleed, I know the anxiety around these days it only going to increase. I have started training for a half marathon, doing yoga when I can, I applied to grad school, have started volunteering at my daughter's school, and am considering finding a maternity leave position for after Christmas,all in part because they are activities that will keep my brain occupied. I'm one of those people that has an obsessive need to stay busy and I like having a full schedule, and it's almost a relief to have something to focus on because it gives my brain a break from thinking about my pregnancy.
I have written a lot about guilt on my blog, and experiencing these obsessive and intrusive thoughts is one more thing for me to feel guilty about, which brings about it's own set of negative feelings. I know it is a legitimate miracle that Nick survived my pregnancy, and that I was able to hang in there until 30 weeks, when he was no longer at risk for the serious consequences of prematurity. I know we are unbelievably lucky that his stay in the NICU was so smooth, that he is healthy and thriving, and that whenever it seems like we are encountering a setback (like his gastro problems or temporary developmental delays,) he has always been able to overcome it. I am almost 30, and the older I get, the more aware I am of women who have lost a child, either through stillbirth or miscarriage, women who have been trying for years to conceive on their own, and women who have babies born weeks earlier than Nick. Compared to what so many women go through, I feel embarrassed to be having such a hard time emotionally recovering from my pregnancy. As crazy and horrible as my pregnancy was with Nick, it ultimately ended in a healthy baby, so what do I really have to complain about?
I am a big believer in the idea that things happen for a reason. I believe the hardships we encounter in life are all part of a greater plan, and I absolutely believe everything that has happened throughout the past year was meant to happen, for whatever the reason. I started this blog originally to share updates with my family when Nick was still in the hospital, but it morphed into a platform to share my writing with a large audience, which led to four of my articles being published. I became active in the March of Dimes because I wanted to help other moms like me, and led to me having the opportunity to advocate for preemie families on Capitol Hill. All of these "successes" have made me even more confident that my pregnancy happened for a reason, but now I'm worried that everything that has come from my pregnancy is a product of my obsession/preoccupation/PTSD, which makes everything I am doing unhealthy in a way. I am trying to take a step back from the NICU emotionally, but it is a challenge that I am trying to find a way to work through. Any tips or advice is appreciated!
I replay the same thing over and over in my mind-ultrasounds, appointments when we found out bad news, waking up and finding out I had had another bleed, the c-section, etc, and it's exhausting and frustrating and harder to stop thinking about than it might seem. At first, I didn't realize how obsessed with my pregnancy I had become, and it wasn't until recently (see my post about Christmas!) that thinking about these thoughts started giving me anxiety. Now that it is getting closer to the anniversary of my first bleed, I know the anxiety around these days it only going to increase. I have started training for a half marathon, doing yoga when I can, I applied to grad school, have started volunteering at my daughter's school, and am considering finding a maternity leave position for after Christmas,all in part because they are activities that will keep my brain occupied. I'm one of those people that has an obsessive need to stay busy and I like having a full schedule, and it's almost a relief to have something to focus on because it gives my brain a break from thinking about my pregnancy.
I have written a lot about guilt on my blog, and experiencing these obsessive and intrusive thoughts is one more thing for me to feel guilty about, which brings about it's own set of negative feelings. I know it is a legitimate miracle that Nick survived my pregnancy, and that I was able to hang in there until 30 weeks, when he was no longer at risk for the serious consequences of prematurity. I know we are unbelievably lucky that his stay in the NICU was so smooth, that he is healthy and thriving, and that whenever it seems like we are encountering a setback (like his gastro problems or temporary developmental delays,) he has always been able to overcome it. I am almost 30, and the older I get, the more aware I am of women who have lost a child, either through stillbirth or miscarriage, women who have been trying for years to conceive on their own, and women who have babies born weeks earlier than Nick. Compared to what so many women go through, I feel embarrassed to be having such a hard time emotionally recovering from my pregnancy. As crazy and horrible as my pregnancy was with Nick, it ultimately ended in a healthy baby, so what do I really have to complain about?
I am a big believer in the idea that things happen for a reason. I believe the hardships we encounter in life are all part of a greater plan, and I absolutely believe everything that has happened throughout the past year was meant to happen, for whatever the reason. I started this blog originally to share updates with my family when Nick was still in the hospital, but it morphed into a platform to share my writing with a large audience, which led to four of my articles being published. I became active in the March of Dimes because I wanted to help other moms like me, and led to me having the opportunity to advocate for preemie families on Capitol Hill. All of these "successes" have made me even more confident that my pregnancy happened for a reason, but now I'm worried that everything that has come from my pregnancy is a product of my obsession/preoccupation/PTSD, which makes everything I am doing unhealthy in a way. I am trying to take a step back from the NICU emotionally, but it is a challenge that I am trying to find a way to work through. Any tips or advice is appreciated!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)