The past few weeks, well months to be honest have been literally the old cliché of a rollercoaster ride. This whole experience of parenthood has been overwhelming; a pick ‘n’ mix of emotions and a whole load of constant paranoia. It is enough to send anyone do-lally. It creeps up on you like an overdue dentist’s appointment (speaking of which, I need to seriously book one) There is no handbook for how to cope; the only thing you can trust is your instincts.
So, what am I getting at? Well, stuff I suppose. Things that I have long needed to get off my chest. Stuff that no-one can really understand unless they have been through it themselves. Since giving birth to my son my state of my mind has been a little, well wonky. I have not yet fully recovered from the whole emergency C-Section. My mind has well and truly been traumatized by the whole thing and I have struggled silently (apart from confiding in my husband) trying to forget about it and move forward. However, in doing so, I have suppressed the emotional and physical trauma I feel and only made things ten times worse. I can’t even touch my scar without freaking out and it saddens me because I should wear it as a badge of honour as my son is alive and well and it is the proof of that. But that’s not the point; it has nothing to do with my wonderful Cabbit. It’s me. My being inability to process what has happened and that I do need to think about it so I can move forward. If only it was that easy.
Since the whole fiasco happened I have not been able to recognize simple things that are normal such as muscle pain. I no longer remember what it feels like to get the odd twinge now and then because my body was pregnant for nine months and is now recovering after a major abdominal surgery. My stomach is completely numb and it sucks. I hate it. It doesn’t feel like me at all, but I am told by my GP that in time I will feel something there. Because I no longer know what is normal and what isn’t, I have gotten extremely paranoid over the smallest twinge or wonder why all of a sudden my foot feels like it needs to pop. It’s crazy but I can’t help but think the worst. I keep getting myself into fits of depression, finding myself on the floor crying. But I have been lucky; I have had my loving husband to pick me up and carry me to the safety of our burrow. I have no idea how I would have coped so far without my husband, he has been my panda and I am so lucky to have found someone who understands, supports and loves me throughout this nightmare that hopefully I will soon wake from.
It’s hard to speak out when you worry that others will judge or start to give you pity rather than understanding. It’s also a lot harder to seek help when you’re looking after your son full-time and you don’t want to burden anyone with babysitter duties. We haven’t had an entire night off since he was born (not a major complaint, but it would be nice to have a night for my husband and I is all). For reasons I will not go into as its personal family stuff. No-one has the time to help us out with babysitting. Which is no-one’s fault; it’s just the way the situation is at the moment. We desperately need some time together and away from our son for a few hours and it’s just finding the time and people to do so. Hopefully in the near future we will be granted this wish, fingers crossed.
The breaking point came last week; I had to get myself sorted. I no longer wanted to live in fear and I needed to talk openly to a professional about my worries. I have become nervous around hospitals; I can’t even watch a hospital scene anymore without freaking out. I went to my appointment and finally opened up to a GP who actually took me seriously and told me that I wasn’t being paranoid, that it is normal to experience all these emotions after what I have been through. It felt good to finally be able to hear that they were going to do some tests on me and do an ultrasound to see if everything is ok. I am hoping it’s just me being traumatized and a worrier but at least something is finally being done about it.
I could add a lot more but I won’t bore you, dear reader and it is late. I should retire to my burrow with my panda and sink into a blissful sleep. Well, that is if Cabbit doesn’t decide he wants to wake up and needs attention.