I’m not even sure where to start. With my first, I had a pretty freaking normal pregnancy. I had anxiety (obviously if you’ve read my first book), so I panicked about every little thing. Outside of my general panic, I really didn’t have any issues. I was hospitalized at 36 weeks for a weird infection that spiked her heartrate, but IV antibiotics cleared that shit up real fast. I went home until 39 weeks, and I had an uneventful scheduled c-section. Everything was so normal. It seems so strange to me now.
This pregnancy started out normal enough, I guess. Well, spina bifida generally develops in the first 3-4 weeks, so nothing started out normal. We didn’t receive our diagnosis until 20 weeks, so we lived a good chunk of the pregnancy in ignorant bliss. It all hit the fan on diagnosis day, and that’s where the pregnancy trauma began. After diagnosis, I cried off and on for a solid week. I couldn’t work. I could barely even function. My life turned into an SB research paper. I dove into every piece of information I could find on the condition and how it would possibly impact our son.
Guilt, Blame, & Decisions to Make
Unfortunately, I blamed myself. I’ve combed through every single memory of every single event in those first few weeks before I took a positive test. I tried to remember if I took a bath at scorching temperatures. Did I have too much to drink? What medications did I take? I was sick right after I found out we were pregnant. Did the antibiotics cause this to happen? I went over and over everything in my head. I know that I didn’t do anything to cause this, but there will always be a part of me that wonders if? I’m not sure if this particular pregnancy trauma will ever go away.
After the initial trauma of diagnosis wore off, we decided to pursue fetal surgery as the best course of treatment for our boy. That decision in and of itself was traumatic. At every consultation, we had to listen to the risks of prematurity. We even had to talk about signing a DNR for Noah in case something went wrong during surgery. I’m still not sure exactly how we got through all this. Those were definitely some of the scariest conversations that I’ve ever heard. From all the (not-so-pretty) statistics to the thought of going home without a baby, it was awful. I’m so thankful for the procedure, but the preparation is no walk in the park. Pregnancy trauma can definitely be amplified by these types of situations.
Once the decision was made and we were ready to go, I got a call on a Friday that our surgery was being scheduled for the next Wednesday. I almost threw up as soon as I heard those words. I thought I would have more time. At least a week. No. I had to pack up everything and be ready to relocate for the next 3-4 months in just a few days. Thinking about it now still makes me sick to my stomach. Luckily, we had a lot of fantastic people working to help us figure out all the details. We figured it out and got packed up to go.
Medical Trauma
Then came fetal surgery. There’s no way for the surgery itself to not be traumatic. At least, I can’t imagine it being any other way. I got exactly 0 hours of sleep the night before surgery. I laid awake, crying most of the time. I watched some tv, but I didn’t sleep at all. I already have some past trauma around IVs. I basically have a massive panic attack (and probably need to be sedated) anytime an IV is started. And, of course, it never works on the first try. One or more usually end up blowing before it actually works out. Luckily, we only blew one this time. After the insanity of starting an IV, I thought maybe I was through the worst part of it all. They’d be able to give me something to calm me down for the rest. That’s not exactly how it worked.
I had another even more intense panic attack while they were trying to place my epidural. We had to stop halfway through for them to make me breathe. Fortunately, I was out shortly after that, so I had a few hours of not knowing what was going on. Waking up from that surgery was probably the single most traumatic event that I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know how I didn’t immediately go into labor with this pregnancy trauma. Apparently, my epidural decided not to work, and that was supposed to be the main source of post-op pain control. I remember waking up to them trying to put the monitors on my belly. They were trying to get the straps underneath me and place them over my belly, pushing and moving me around. I felt every tug on my fresh incision. I don’t even really know how to describe that feeling. Pain, but it was so much more than that. Finally, a nurse realized my legs were moving and asked me if I could feel anything. When I nodded, my husband said they moved pretty damn quick to get it under control. He said I was just lying there moaning, unable to form words.
The next few days of recovery were hard, but at least the hardest part was over. I only had one scare where my blood pressure and oxygen levels randomly dropped in the middle of the night. It was around the same time I thought my bladder was exploding because my catheter was draining right. They took my epidural out shortly after surgery because they realized it wasn’t doing the job, so they managed the pain with oral pain meds. I was also on medication to keep my uterus from contracting. The side effects from all the meds kept me pretty uncomfortable for a while. But for the most part, I feel like my pregnancy trauma is over.
What Happens Now?
Now I’m recovering, and most of my days are good. Pregnancy trauma doesn’t just magically disappear. I have random breakdowns because I miss my family and my house. I’m just so ready to have our sweet boy home, but he also needs to stay in my belly as close to term as we can get! The trauma of this pregnancy hasn’t been lost on me. I continue to thank God every day for all the blessings that we have in our life. Just because there happens to be some bad, I can’t let myself forget about all the good that we have. I’m terrified about what these experiences will mean when it’s time to have a c-section, but I’m working with my therapist. We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it. Whatever happens, it’ll be worth it because we will get to meet our incredible warrior boy.
