A Missing Woman
I delivered my second baby on December 19, 2022! He weighed less than my firstborn, Oliver, and cried way more. I worried he would have jaundice because Oliver did and stayed in the NICU for a week. After two days of Charlie latching, I was told he’d have to stay in the hospital for jaundice and hypothermia. I was allowed to keep my room as a discharged mother to breastfeed and take care of Charlie, and he slept under blue lights and often had his blood drawn. Every 3 hours the nurses brought Charlie to my room to breastfeed and pump.
An arctic blast hit Austin and temperatures were in the 20s during our hospital stay. I was concerned about Oliver and my husband stepping out in freezing weather for Charlie and me, so I easily convinced my husband to stay at home. I did not want them getting sick or driving on ice. For an entire week, the nurses walked into my room every 3 hours to breastfeed, breast pump, and robotically wash the breast pump supplies. After a week I felt dead, and alone, and cried every day. I’ve always tended to go into a slight depression, but I was alone in my room unless a nurse, pediatrician, or lactation consultant visited. I know this sounds like I’m complaining, but I’ve never had the chance to tell anyone about my experience. Not that this is some type of traumatic experience, but ever since then, I’ve felt like I’ve been away somewhere. I feel like a part of my conscience has been stored somewhere in my brain and is being held prisoner and this kept me away.
This is most likely depression, postpartum depression, or a deeper depression of my existing depression, so it’s depression- depression?
Every time Charlie’s blood was drawn, I was told that he’d have to remain in the hospital. Charlie was finally released on Christmas evening. I know I should look on the bright side and say, “Wow, what a Christmas miracle! We went home on Christmas evening. God bless, everyone!”, but the emo part of me thinks it sucks. We had bought matching pajamas and I wanted to cook a special Christmas meal even though I had just given labor, but I didn’t get to.
Our pipes burst outside, and water was steadily pouring on the right side of our house. My husband and Oliver didn’t even open their gifts yet. Also, our hot water wasn’t working. Luckily, we were able to boil water on the stove to clean Charlie’s bottles and my breast pump supplies. My husband had taken off work for a week to help me on maternity leave; however, this was the week Charlie stayed in the NICU. I was on my own taking care of Charlie starting Monday.
I want to say that the female body is amazing because it can birth a baby and provide milk, but there is a dark side to having a baby. Every day after giving birth, I’ve had intrusive thoughts that make me cry. Whenever I’m walking down the stairs or overlooking our den balcony an image of me tripping over the steps or accidentally fumbling Charlie over the balcony occurs. In my mind’s eye, I can see him hurt badly and I’m in an ambulance sadly crying while the paramedics attempt to fervently save his life. Images like this always force themselves into my brain and I cry about two times daily from it. I tell myself it’s a biological protection mechanism to keep me highly alert and fast-acting in case the real danger is after my child. This has kept me away.
It’s important to seek help during these times, except that I’m such an introvert I don’t even want to talk to or see anyone, so I stay home. I don’t want another person to look at me sometimes. I don’t say anything or make faces when a human does, but all the while I’m pleading, “Please, don’t look at me. Please, don’t look at me. Please, don’t look at me.”
Depression also compounded my social anxiety. I hate talking out loud now to friends. I get so shy, and I don’t want to say anything. I’m okay if someone talks to me, but what I express comes off as being nonchalant or bored with “okay”, “yeah”, and “alright”. There’s a lot of head nodding too, and this has kept me away from social functions.
Also, just the act of taking care of the baby leaves me with less time to do anything, especially since my baby is a crier. Some babies can lie down and be happy as an armadillo, but other babies will cry like Hurricane Ida, and Charlie is Ida. My husband told me his mom said, “Is everything okay with Bekah? She used to post on Facebook all the time and now she never does.”
Now that I’m back at work and I’ve missed learning new skills and need to catch up, I’m finding that we need more money too, so I’m taking on side hustles. This has kept me away too.
There’s a part of me that loves the change resulting from kids. There’s another part that wishes it was very easy. When I tell you that having a baby can be mentally traumatic for a woman, believe me, it is, especially, if she has already had depression. Many people think that it’s easy for a woman to have a baby because she is biologically innate for it, but it can come with mental trauma. Honestly, many women including me are away right now. We’ve disappeared. We’re missing. We may never come back. I don’t know.
