A Writing Assignment from my English1020 Class

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                                                            Worry

 

   I grew up in a tumultuous home.  My mother was a single mom, raising three kids on her own, trying to do the best she could.  I have vivid memories of her sitting at the dining room table, crying over her checkbook.  I didn’t understand what that meant then, all I knew was that she was hurting - so I’d run to her, put my head down in her lap, and ask if she was okay.   She’d always reassure me that she was okay - shielding me from any understanding over her financial struggles.

  I don’t think of myself as having grown up always being an anxious child.  I don’t remember ever having to worry about shelter, clothing, or where my next meal would come from - we were poor, but very fortunate in that sense. 

  We moved a few times from the time I was in Kindergarten till I was in 2^nd grade.  - From Arizona, to California, then finally settling in Florida.  I will venture out and guess that’s when the worry and anxiousness started.  My mom and stepdad had separated.  I started 2^nd grade at a new school, in a new state. 

  I recall struggling a lot in school that year.  - Never wanting to do homework, or classwork.  - Having to keep a daily reporting notebook that went home to my mom every day with either a smiley face or sad face depending on my behavior that day.  I don’t remember ever having that much trouble in school after that year though. 

  My mom had a ridiculously bad temper, and an extremely abusive, hurtful tongue.  Her words hit much harder than her fists did.  She and my brother fought so much.  He was 4 years older than me, very stubborn, and very strong willed.  He was just like my mom in so many ways - which is probably much of why they fought so often.

  Middle school was a turning point for me.  My stepdad and my mom had tried to work things out several times over those 3 years but finally separated for good after my 6^th grade year.  I had experienced a lot of personal trauma during middle school that I wasn’t dealing with - nor was I allowed to speak about.   

  By high school, my brother had landed himself in prison.  I was barely speaking to my mom, and she was blaming me for everything that was going wrong in our lives on a daily rotation.

  I was told every day that I was a failure, the biggest disappointment of her life - and if I failed anymore, she threatened that she would kill me.  After hearing that every day of my life over a couple of years' time - I eventually started to believe I was as big a mess up as she proclaimed me to be and thought that I might just be better off dead. 

  I’m pretty confident that’s when my worry and anxiety manifested itself into actual signs any healthy individual could pinpoint and seek help for.  With the close of my freshman year approaching, I attempted suicide.  I was institutionalized for several months.  - I received a lot of therapy and counseling but I remember spending the whole time worrying about how my mom was going to treat me after I was released and free to go home. 

  From then on, I think I managed to survive the rest of high school purely by flying under the radar. - Speaking only when asked specific things.  - Respectful, but short answers.  I never offered up any other conversation.  I quietly refused to share any personal thoughts or feelings with her.  I didn’t trust her to receive them without judgement.

 Still to this day, I believe my inability to communicate effectively when I’m emotional - or in a fight with someone - spurs directly from never being able to say what I was feeling to my mother when I was hurting.  As an adult in my early forties, I still have difficulty articulating what I want to say when the conversations are emotionally charged topics.  I get tongue-tied and completely frustrated to the point of crying because I can’t find the words that I want to say.

 

  Looking back on my time at home with my mother, I can see now how my anxieties were manifesting themselves.  I struggled with constipation all throughout middle and high school.  It wasn’t till I moved out that I realized people were supposed to poop at least every other day - if not every day.

  I struggled with patches of red raised bumps on my tummy.  My family physician called them “stress bumps”.  I had no idea things like that - a product of stress - could physically show up on your body. 

  My sleep schedule was erratic.  I barely slept for weeks at a time.  - Then all I’d want to do for several weeks was sleep. 

 

  Shortly after I had my daughter, I began a long journey of self-work.  I dove head-first into therapy.  I had always known I struggled with depression, but the thought of suffering with anxiety never registered on my radar until later in my adult life. 

  I remember worrying over driving, accidents, dying myself, or my kid dying in a car accident.  - Vivid pictures in my head of those things happening.  - Of my daughter being abducted.  - Held hostage in someone’s house.  - Being forced into doing things no child should be doing.  - Again, vivid, disturbing images in my head. 

  Worry - anxiety specifically - this was how it was all manifesting itself in my life as an adult.  I decided to speak to my doctor about it.  I was prescribed an anti-depressant with an anti-anxiety medication combined.  It’s helped but I still struggle with incessant worry.

  I now have 2 kids.  - And I’ll be the first to admit, that I have worried over the same things with my son that I worried over with my daughter.  - Accidents, death, abduction, sex trafficking.  - The whole gambit of twisted and gory details no parent wants to see of their kids.

  In addition to all those crazy things, I worry like crazy over the normal stuff too.  -  Bills, money, finances, Covid, how Covid is going to affect the world - my job - my career - my kids - our town - our legacy.  I worry every day about my son’s nutrition - his disability - my shortcomings as a mom to a son with special needs.  The only visual I can give someone of what my worrisome thoughts look like in my head is this:  Picture the biggest plate of spaghetti you can imagine - Extra saucy and piled high.  - That is my brain full of unhelpful worrisome thoughts - all day long. 

 

  It’s a struggle to say the very least.  A few things that help me are as follows:

  I meditate a lot.  I have several meditation apps on my phone that help me redirect my anxiousness when I need to, so I don’t spiral myself into a full-blown panic attack. 

  I pray a lot too.  I do bible studies geared toward anxiousness and worry every week.  One of my recent bible studies had this to say, “Worry is our inability or unwillingness to trust God.”  Ooof.  That felt like a sucker punch in my gut when I read that.  It affected me so deeply that I had to share it with my friends on Facebook AND write it down on a sticky note to have on my vanity mirror as a daily reminder.

  I grew up in church.  I was extremely active in my church youth group.  I’m still very close to my youth director.  I consider her my other mom.  I remember having conversations with her in high school about worry.  She basically said the same thing back then about worry being your lack of trust in God.

  A little sidebar discussion for any readers: 

  I know I’m not the only person who struggles with trusting God.  I was taught - or told - that I should think of God as a Dad.  - As my Heavenly Father - My Dad in Heaven - Daddy God, If you will. 

  - I was also told in the same breath that it’d be hard to trust “Daddy God” because I didn’t have the greatest examples of what a dad or father should be here on Earth.  - But I was never given the skills, knowledge, or instruction on how to close that gap either.

  If you don’t have the experience of trusting your Earthly father, then how do you trust in a God you’ve never seen?  This is something I still struggle with daily.  If you have any pointers on this, please find me on socials and let’s discuss.   

 

I believe in God. 

I believe in the power of meditation and prayer. 

I believe in medicine.

- All of which have helped me live with the incessant worry and debilitating anxiety I have lived with for most of my life. 

 There isn’t any one cure all.  Different things will work for some and not work for others. 

Healing and becoming a healthier version of yourself is a lifelong journey. 

What I’ve learned is that it’s okay to misstep, backtrack, start over, or even try something completely new. 

It’s okay to fall flat on your face - I’ve done this so many times - but if you just get up and keep moving forward - it's all considered progress.  If you learned something from it, then it counts as a win, and it all should be applauded.  One foot in front of the other, Friends. 

Written on 12/7/2020

Stuff No One Tells You About Labor, Delivery & the Aftermath of Raising A Newborn.

1) Birthing a child is major trauma to your body.

I delivered Xander at 2pm, got to spend all of 20 minutes -- if that -- with my newborn before they took him away to the nursery - along with my husband.

I was alone, covered in blood from the waist down and had yet to be cleaned and re-dressed after delivery. -- If you opt for an epidural, you have to wait for it to wear off before you can walk (escorted by nurses) to the bathroom for clean up.

Our family and friends started arriving at 4pm.

If I had it to do all over again, I would have opted for everyone to come the next day rather than 2 hours after I delivered. - Not that I'm ungrateful about everyone coming out, but like I said, birthing a human being is some serious trauma to your body.

- We had 11 people in our room at one point (not including the Husband & myself) all waiting to see the baby - who wasn't even back from the nursery yet -- and everyone had to be shooed out of the room so the nurses could help me get cleaned up.

Once I was presentable, everyone was allowed back in the room and the passing around of the baby officially began. - But shortly after that, the nursery nurse came in to shoo everyone out - yet again - so I could try to breastfeed since it had been several hours since Xander was born and we literally had no chance to have some one-on-one time.

All in all, it was just a crazy time to have so many visitors on top of being completely exhausted and in so much pain from labor and delivery (I wasn't given any post-delivery pain meds yet).


2) You will get absolutely ZERO rest during your stay at the hospital.

We had hospital staff in and out of our room every couple hours. It was super ridiculous.


3) If you opt to have your baby boy circumcised and you're breastfeeding, DON'T get discouraged when he is completely inconsolable the evening after the procedure.

Xander screamed & cried all night and into the morning. He just could not settle and he refused to nurse from me. - This caused me to worry and stress because I had so many breastfeeding issues with Emily and I didn't want a repeat of that with this baby, plus I was feeling pressured by the evil nursery nurses to be sure he was nursing every 3 hours. He was totally inconsolable and cried so hard that his little voice went hoarse. We got absolutely no sleep that night / morning until the nurses came at 5am to take him for lab work. - But apparently, that is completely normal behavior for a newly circumcised newborn -- which they failed to tell me till the next morning. So don't let those nursery nurses stress you out by coming in every few hours asking how long your baby nursed and if he had any dirty diapers while he's screaming so loudly that you can't hear what they're asking you. - It's their job to ask and chart. Be strong and resist the urge to punch them in the face. I did. Barely.

-- Oh, and the nurses won't OFFER to take your baby for you that last night... But you can most definitely request that they take the baby for a few hours so you can get some rest. I didn't find this out until I was ready to go completely ballistic on my doctor who came in at 5:30am to ask me how that night went.


4) You will cry over anything and everything... for a while.

Xander is a month old and I still find myself crying over the littlest things - though it's not as bad as it was during the first few weeks post-delivery.

Chalk it up to hormones, sleep deprivation and just an overwhelming sense of constant worry about trying to do everything right.

This is my 2nd child and every day I wonder (and worry) about how we're going to make this all work. How I'm going to be able to handle going back to work with TWO kids' schedules to manage now.

I have to constantly remind myself that it WILL get easier. This tiny baby stage goes by super fast (even though it doesn't feel like it right now). The craziness, the sleep-deprivation and the colic will all be over before we know it and we'll find a new sense of "normal" that works specifically for our family.


5) Breastfeeding is SUPER hard!

Despite it being natural and what our bodies are ultimately designed for, nursing an infant isn't easy by any means. For a lot of women, it doesn't come naturally and is super difficult, stressful and exhausting... But NO ONE ever tells you that!

I had major issues with Emily and completely abandoned breastfeeding when she was 8 weeks. But I am super determined to stick with it this time around for Xander (and for our pocketbook -- because formula is STUPID expensive). I'm hoping to do it for a year but at the very least, for 6 months.

Nursing is a serious commitment, especially the first few months, and it's not easy by any means. - You're exhausted, your nipples are sore and your boobs are achy.

Everyone is offering to come "help" with the baby, but the reality of it is they can't really do much. Breastfed babies nurse every 2-3 hours. (There have been days here lately where Xander has nursed almost every hour during his growth spurts.) So even if you opt to introduce bottle feeding before the recommended 4-6 weeks and have someone else do a feeding to give you a "break", guess what, you still have to get up and pump.

Xander is currently going through a colicky phase where most feedings he will eat from me just fine, but for at least one feeding during his colicky spell he will only take a bottle. So every time, I have to hand him off to dad and go spend 10 minutes pumping to ensure that my milk supply won't diminish by him missing a feeding. It's a royal pain to be locked away in your bedroom connected to a pump while your fussy, inconsolable baby is giving your significant other a run for his money and you not being able to help. But it has to be done.

I still worry and stress over my milk supply every day. - And I'm still waiting for the breastfeeding thing to get "easy" -- but I have a feeling it will be another month or so... Especially if Xander's colicky phase doesn't go away sooner rather than later.

It's a constant worry for me. I google stuff every single day... Like what foods to avoid that might contribute to his fussiness / gassiness. I feel guilty if I drink coffee or have a pop and eat junk food.

I find myself stressing over time more now too... Like there's a sense of urgency to get outings done right after he's been fed because that gives us a good 2-3 hours before he'll need to eat again. - And I still have yet to master gracefully (and modestly) breastfeeding in public -- so I try to not have to do it as often as I can.

It's hard... That's all I can say. - But it's best for Xander and ultimately what's best for our family budget right now too. So I'm trying my best to trudge on, despite my wanting to quit every single day and will continue to do little victory dances in my head at every pediatric check up when they tell me how much he weighs and that he's gained a substantial amount of weight since his last appointment.


All that being said, I feel the need to share some of the things I did that have helped me be successful (thus far) at breastfeeding this time around:

* Rent a pump from the hospital for the first 2 weeks -- even if you already have a pump at home. A hospital grade pump is more efficient at emptying your breast than any other pump you can buy at the store and will help jump start your milk supply. (Furthermore, when shopping for a breast pump, always opt for an electric pump rather than a hand-held manual pump -- I speak from experience here. Manual pumping with a newborn baby was insanity.)

* Don't forget to eat! I find that I am hungrier now than I was when I was pregnant. Breastfeeding burns MAJOR calories and you need to nourish your body so you can feed and nourish your baby.

Those first 2 weeks I was so tired, I slept every time the baby would and just wouldn't eat. Big no-no! Enlist help! Have your partner bring you a snack every time you are feeding baby. Prep healthy snacks you can grab before a feeding and easily eat during a feeding for those days your partner has to go into work and you're flying solo with baby.

* Stay hydrated. I drink a TON of water. It's ridiculous. The good thing is you won't have to pee every 3 minutes because your body is absorbing it, plus there's not a baby dancing on your bladder anymore. Try to incorporate juice and milk too -- you need the Calcium and the Vitamin C to stay healthy so you can continue to take care of that little one.

* Keep taking your Pre-Natal Vitamins... I've found that if I take mine with dinner, Xander doesn't have issue with it... But if I take it on an emptier stomach, like before bed, like I did when I was pregnant, feedings were more difficult. Also, a common complaint amongst breastfeeding moms is that iron can cause increased fussiness. I have to agree, as I started a vitamin based anti-depressant with iron and noticed he was super fussy the few days I took it. So ditch the iron supplements unless your doctor tells you to keep taking them.

* I've had the worst luck with washable / reusable nursing pads. I always soak through. I found the disposable nursing pads have worked best for me. They keep you drier too - which means less chance of bacteria & infection. You can buy a box of 100 at Walmart for $12. Either way, which ever ones you choose, change your nursing pads often to reduce your risk of infection -- because mastitis sucks -- again, I speak from experience.


It seems a lot of my friends are expecting their first babies very soon. I hope this helps some of you prep for the reality of becoming parents.

It's not glamorous... It's scary, difficult and very frustrating a lot of the time. I guarantee at some point or another, you'll get angry with your partner, you'll be jealous of the amount of sleep they're getting, you'll feel like you're doing everything, you'll be surrounded by people wanting to help but feel completely alone and you'll most definitely wonder to yourself during those hours of incessant, inconsolable crying from your fussy baby "How in the world did I convince myself that this was a good idea?" - But in those moments, just try to take a deep breath, remind yourself that it DOES get easier, it IS a good idea and it WILL all be SO worth it. Repeating those things every day seems to be working for me.

Much love, Friends.

Loss

Last week seems like such a blur - that's probably due in part to the heavy meds I've been on, but all in all, I don't feel like I missed too much.  I was able to take several days off from work and I'm really thankful for that.

I broke the news of the miscarriage to Em on Monday night while she was helping make dinner.  I wanted to wait till she was home for the week to tell her so she'd have all the opportunities for questions and much-needed comfort.

I think having to tell her made things seem much more real.  It's almost like I wasn't allowing myself to feel anything, except when I was alone in my bed, waiting for the medications to sweep me off to sleep each night.  - But that afternoon was different, I gave myself permission to cry in front of her...  and it wasn't really by choice...  It just happened - as soon as I started telling her the results of the final ultrasound, I choked up and it all came out.

She just stood there, staring at me.  I saw genuine concern in her face and tears began to well up in her big brown eyes, but she didn't cry.  She just maintained eye contact, and nodded her head in response to the things I said.

I assured her that I was okay.  - That it wasn't because of anything I did or anyone did to me.  - That sometimes these things happen.  I told her it was okay to be sad and that she could ask as many questions as she needed to.  - I told her the doctor said we needed to wait a couple of months and then we could try again.  - And to that she asked, "But will you try again, Mommy?"  - How does she do that?  She knows me so well, it's scary.

It's no secret that I've been very unsure about the whole having another baby thing.  I've been so wishy-washy.  Even after I found out I was pregnant again there were days I was super happy and excited about it.  - And then there were days where I wondered if it was such a great idea after all.

This was the first time in my life where the fact that I was late getting my period wasn't an "Oh, shit" moment.  I'm a grown, responsible adult.  I've managed to raise one amazing child already.  I'm married.  My husband has always wanted children.  We have a roof over our heads.  - And we are both gainfully employed.  It all adds up in the positive, right?  I mean, that's a Grade A spawning situation, right?  - But there I was second-guessing every little thing.

I'm beginning to wonder if it's just me.  Am I non-committal about the things most women my age aren't non-committal about?

With all the complications I had with this pregnancy from the get-go, I can honestly say I was half expecting this outcome.  I had been mentally preparing myself for this loss since my last spotting episode about 3 weeks prior.  Even the morning before I went for my last ultrasound, I told a friend that I wouldn't be completely devastated or surprised if I miscarried.

After my ultrasound, I knew the bad news even before my doctor came to deliver it.  I watched the tech take measurements and scan for the heartbeat several times, unsuccessfully.  I recognized how my doctor assessed my demeanor and emotional state when he entered.  - Despite the news, I managed to remain pretty well-composed as we discussed the pros & cons of having a D&C procedure and our options in regards to spawning post-surgery.  I didn't allow myself to cry until I was in my car, calling my husband on the phone. 

There it was.  No more baby.  The heartbreak was real and much deeper than I could have ever imagined.  - And surprisingly, I was devastated despite my earlier proclamation to my friend.

When you're the one trying to process all of this, it's easy to believe that you'll be the only one affected.  But as soon as I heard Alan's voice, I quickly realized how wrong I was.  My heart was breaking not only for me and the loss of the baby, but for my husband and my daughter too.

My only regret is that I didn't realize how much I really wanted that baby until my choice in the matter was completely taken away from me.  I wish I had been more present and less worrisome.

Emily has handled everything like the champ that she is.  She sporadically asks me questions when it's just her and me - and if she thinks of a question when the husband is around, she politely shoos him away.

As of now, our intention is to try again.  - Like I said before, I am giving myself all of next year to indulge in the idea of becoming a parent all over again.  - If it happens, it happens.  - If it doesn't, hey, at least we tried and we still have one amazing daughter to keep us plenty occupied.

We're going to take our time healing from this heartbreak.  - Start living healthier and trying to be more active.  - Get through the holidays.  - And we'll probably officially start trying again in February or March.

Yikes

I had a series of doctors appointments over the course of 2 weeks and for the most part all my labs came back fairly normal.  There were a few things my doctor said we would watch over the next few months, but also said if I get my diet and exercise habits in order those things should remedy themselves.

I am officially off all medications - excluding Zyrtec for my ridiculous allergies.  I stopped taking my anti-depressant (Celexa) about 2 months ago and seem to be doing fine emotionally -- at least for now.  My doctor mentioned there is a new medication out that has none of the side effects that concern me most and since I've tried so many other anti-depressants over the course of my adult life, if we -- as in my family -- started to notice signs of depression creeping back in it would be a good fit for me.  I also opted to take Melatonin to help me sleep instead of a sleep-aid and that seems to be helping with my erratic sleep schedule.

Last Wednesday I had to have a minor out-patient surgical procedure to have my IUD removed.  Typically, surgery isn't necessary to have them removed, however, my device had traveled a bit into my cervical canal.  The procedure wasn't too horrible.  They gave me local anesthesia so I didn't feel too much.  - Though I've been quite crampy since - today being no exception.

I almost called to cancel the removal 3 times that morning.  I think I was more scared of the fact that I am now able to get pregnant than of the procedure itself.

I don't get it.  I have no idea what I'm so afraid of.  I'm in the ideal situation to add to my family.  I have a husband and he's a great step-dad to my daughter and will no doubt be a great father to his own child.  I have a sweet, intuitive daughter who will be an amazing big sister.  We have a home and I am gainfully employed.  All situations are right for spawning.

- So why then am I so freaking scared?  What's got me so completely spooked?  -- I don't exactly know nor can I put my finger specifically on just one thing.

I worry about:  - My business.  - My family's finances and overall security.  - The strain a new baby can put on a new marriage.  - Providing for a baby.  - Being that girl who has 2 kids from 2 different dads. (Have I been watching too much Maury?)

I've been so pensive over the last few days -- trying to pinpoint where all this anxiety is coming from.

I think deep down I'm still so pessimistic when it comes to what I believe about relationships and commitment.  I was programmed from a very young age by my own mother to always be prepared for the bottom to fallout of whatever seemingly perfect relationship I put myself into.  It's hard to undo that kind of thinking.  - Especially if you personally haven't experienced anything different in your own life experiences.  I have always had a very difficult time seeing me with one person for the rest of my life -- not because I have any desire to leave -- but rather I have this unrealistic expectation that he will ultimately leave me alone in the end.  There are no 100% guarantees in life or in love and that scares me to death.

Wanting to get married again really was a big thing for me.  I honestly didn't see myself finding someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with in my cards - especially after the horrible breakup of 2009.  - And the husband often jokes that we got married so quickly because he didn't want to give me the chance to run away -- sometimes I can't help but wonder how much truth to that there really is. 

So to consider bringing another child into this world is an even BIGGER thing for me...  and actually acting upon it by ceasing all forms of birth control is HUGE - super-duper-ridiculous huge. Three years ago, I would have hysterically laughed in your face had you told me I would be planning to have another child.  It just wasn't something I wanted to do again at all. 
  
Even now, I'm unsure.  The idea of it is nice.  I really would love to have a little boy to dork out with since Emily is sooooo super girly.  But the reality is that I'm just so unsure and so scared of the unknown.

Ideally -- with me being the over-planner that I am -- I'd like to wait till the end of the year to even start thinking about actively trying.  I'd like to get a few more things around our house completed.  I'd also like get my body to a healthier state so I can house a growing fetus and remain fairly active throughout the pregnancy -- that was something I didn't do with Emily and I remember regretting it after she came.

Once my cycles regulate, I know I will be frantically tracking them.  - But I figured the longer the IUD stayed in, the more excuses as to why we should wait for a more "convenient time" I would make - and let's be completely honest here -- there is no good time to have a baby.  -- Time is of the essence and I am no spring chicken anymore. 

If it happens, it happens and we will deal the best way we know how.

But for now, all I can do is take it one day at a time.  - Pray for peace and clarity often.  - Breathe and have faith that God knows exactly what He's doing.