Saturday, June 28, 2008

Postpartum Depression/birth story

I really haven't talked about this to anyone I know, so this is going to be my "letting it all out." For the record, there is a birth story included (not detailed partially for lack of space, and also because I really don't remember much).

When I first went to the hospital when I was in labor, I was excited. I woke up around 8:30 am and my water broke almost immediately. I was feeling no pain and no contractions, so all i felt was excitement. For most of the day I didn't feel any pain at all, then all of a sudden it hit. I was given IV drugs that put me to sleep immediately.

I didn't want to do an epidural, but I really don't know why. Later on (I have no idea of the time frame at this point) I decided to go ahead and get it. After the epidural was put in place, I felt NO relief. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew something wasn't right. The nurse didn't believe me at all though. Still later (probably midnight by now?) I had no relief, and my blood pressure was going up. The anesthesiologist came back, and realized that they had missed my spine by an inch. Apparently I have a very slight case of scoliosis that had gone undetected. They fixed my epidural (and did a spinal, unsure why), and all was well again. I became human, and even got some sleep. The nurse had to wake me up to tell me that it was time to push. I felt NOTHING at all.

I don't remember much about the pushing and about her actual birth. I think it was all the pain drugs (the reason I didn't want them to begin with), but the only thing I remember thinking was that I couldn't see anything because someone took my glasses off. I had a horrible time recovering (episiotomy) and barely got out of bed the entire time I was in the hospital. Once again I thought something was wrong, but was told that its normal, and some women take birth harder than others.

We were released from the hospital (I could barely walk, dunno why I was released), and the next morning I woke up with a 104.1 degree fever. Went straight back to the doctor to find out I had an infection in my uterus, and that I would be hospitalized if the shot of antibiotics didn't take effect immediately. I spent the entire first full day of my daughter being home in bed, throwing up because of the intense medication, and shivering because of the fever. I was given 3 weeks worth of antibiotics in pill form.

The entire point of the birth story was to show how much I don't like doctors. I have a pretty good idea about what I'm supposed to feel (although I had never experienced childbirth, so I tried to just trust them). Every doctor (my own, and the one who delivered K. because mine was on vacation) along with the multiple nurses told me I was just fine, when in reality something serious was wrong.

Fast forward a few months. I loved being a mom. I was a little stressed (she was born in the beginning of Aug, at the end of Aug I started a new job, plus I was taking 12 hours of classes, although they were all online), but everything about her made me happy. I got super excited when she did something new, to the point of annoying people around me. I was/am a very proud mama. I am still not sure if I had/have PPD. All of my problems/negative feelings were toward H. I love him, and knew it then, but I would get extremely mad at all of the little things he did. They were so stupid and un important that I can't even think of an example now.

I didn't go talk to my doctor, which was probably a mistake, because of the way they thought I was wrong before. I didn't go because we don't have health insurance, and I couldn't justify the expense to anyone. At the time we were barely getting by, living paycheck to paycheck.

Things are so much better now. I am more patient with K. than I have ever been with anything in my life. Things with H. are better too, but I'm still not the person I was before I got pregnant. Just today I got really upset with him. We were just talking about our high electric bill, and he had mentioned that leaving the doors open when we go out, even just for a min, needs to stop. During the next hour or so after he said that I started pointing out that he was the one to do it all the time - he did it 4 times. He told me I was being annoying, and I jumped all over him. Its stupid little things like that that make me extremely mad.

Could this still be postpartum depression? I mean, its been almost 2 years, and while its gotten better its definitely not gone. I'm worried that if I go talk to my doctor he will laugh at me (not literally), but possibly blow me off again. We still don't have health insurance, but are in a much better place financially then we were 2 years ago.

1 comment:

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