Personal Experience: Motherhood & Anxiety

When I was in third grade, I danced in a recital to the song "Joy and Pain." Maybe you remember it? The refrain goes, "joy and pain/like sunshine and rain". Well, we celebrated Lilianna's first birthday this weekend and I as sat down to write about this past year, those are the words that popped into my head: joy and pain.

I've alluded to the challenges I've faced since Lilianna was born, but I haven't shared all of the details as I needed some time to process things myself. While most people assume that my difficulties have been related to gastroparesis, that's actually been the least of my challenges.

I gave birth to Lilianna in the most supportive, empowering environment I could have imagined. She was born naturally, after just seven hours of unmedicated labor. It was an amazing experience and the greatest surprise of my life when my husband announced, "it's a girl!" Holding her in those first few moments... joy. Pure joy.

Less than an hour later, I was in more pain than I'd ever known. I was literally begging the doctor to put me to sleep. I had an extensive hematoma, which ruptured on the way to the O.R. An unsuccessful first surgery led to a loss of 1.5 liters of a blood, a second surgery, and 3 blood transfusions over the next 24 hours. It might sound a bit dramatic, but at least once, I truly thought I was going to die.

And so went the next several days, weeks, months. Joy... and pain.

The day we left the hospital, four days after Lilianna was born, I could not stop crying. Having had no time to process the trauma I'd just experienced or the life-changing miracle we'd just received, I was a ball of emotions… gratitude, anxiety, overwhelm.

Three weeks later, my blood pressure repeatedly spiked to 210/110. I was sent to the ER day after day, told that I was at risk of having a stroke, but nobody could figure out what was happening. I was tested for all kinds of horrible things, each time being away from my baby for hours or, worse, having to bring her to the ER with us so I could breastfeed her. (Eventually I was the one who figured out that I was overhydrating after being diagnosed with mild pancreatitis and put on a liquid diet. Each time I went to the ER, they suggested I was dehydrated, so I kept drinking more and more, making the problem worse and worse.)

Speaking of breastfeeding, I had planned to nurse exclusively for six months and then continue for at least one year. I hadn't even considered alternatives. But all of the blood loss, ER visits, hospital stays, medication, and Lily's undiagnosed dairy allergy led to difficulty for both of us. Then I started having panic attacks when I breastfed or pumped. The day I found myself parked in front of the ER, crying uncontrollably, with the baby screaming in the back seat, I called my doctor and told her that I thought I was going crazy. After talking with my doctor, I made the decision to stop nursing.

I should mention that Lily has never been a "good sleeper." To this day, we're still up multiple times a night, which I am sure exacerbated all of these things, especially what happened next.

When Lily was six months old, I began experiencing tingling and numbness on my right side, combined with vision changes, difficulty finding the right words, and other frightening symptoms. During one particularly bad episode, my husband took me to the ER where I was diagnosed with an atypical migraine (in hindsight, it was more likely anxiety/panic related).I was given a migraine medicine by IV. I had a gut feeling that I should question the decision, but I was so exhausted and overwhelmed that I did not. We soon learned that it was related to the drug that caused the severe reaction I had in 2000, which resulted in intubation and a 4-day stay in the ICU.

The next day, in the middle of an Office Hours call for one of my coaching programs, I found myself unable to speak. As my tongue swelled and my jaw locked, it didn't take long for my husband to realize we needed to go to the hospital. Fortunately some IV Benadryl reversed the reaction I was having to the migraine medicine, and I was sent home. Five hours later, as I was rocking to Lily to sleep, it happened again. We rushed back to the hospital. I was put on oral Benadryl every 4-6 hours for the next 36 hours.

At this point, I was utterly overwhelmed with anxiety and, not surprisingly, I was back at the hospital a day later after a severe panic attack. Somehow, just days later, we celebrated Lilianna with a beautiful Blessing Ceremony. And it was a day full of love, promise, and joy.

Fortunately, all of those symptoms have been gradually subsiding ever since. Of course, through all of this, I have also been managing the gastroparesis. My commitment to my management plan has waxed and waned. The stress has taken a toll on my digestion. Emotional eating has wreaked havoc on my symptoms. Learning to balance my needs with the needs of my baby has been a challenge. But thanks to my well-established management plan before and during pregnancy, GP has not been anywhere near my greatest challenge. Even when my gastric neurostimulator turned itself off earlier this year, I managed quite well on my own for several months.

With all of that said, there were still more wonderful moments than difficult ones over the past year. Seeing Lily smile for the first time, making her laugh, watching her learn to sit up and then crawl and then stand. Hearing her say "mama." Celebrating her first Christmas, my first Mother's Day, and now her first birthday. She has brought so much joy into my life.

What I've learned over the last 12 months is that joy and pain are indeed like sunshine and rain. They are each a part of life, and they each serve a purpose. Experiencing the rain makes us appreciate the sunshine a little more. The promise of sunshine makes the rainy days more bearable.

More important, though, are the times when sunshine and rain co-exist... that is when magic happens. That's when beautiful colors arch across the sky. Sunshine in the absence of rain will never give us rainbows. Neither will rain without the glimmer of the Sun.

I believe that in the midst of pain, if we can also embrace joy, our own beautiful colors will shine bright.

As I reflect, I'm proud of how I've handled this past year and I'm incredibly proud of Lilianna. She is a loving, curious, funny, and perceptive little girl. I think all that we have already been through together has strengthened our connection. I tell her everyday how grateful I am to be her mama and I mean it with every ounce of my being.

I also consider it a blessing that this year has shown me without a shadow of a doubt that unmitigated stress and anxiety can cause very real, physical symptoms and impact overall health. A message I've been resisting for years. I'm convinced that if I hadn't realized this after the "migraine episodes," I would have continued along a downward spiral of physical and emotional health.

Instead, this realization led me to discover Dr. Lissa Rankin and then Brene Brown. What I've learned has changed my perspective personally and shifted my focus professionally. It's made me reassess my own self-care, my priorities, and my habits. I've had to become more comfortable asking for help, take an honest look at what I really need, be more accepting of my imperfections, and show myself more compassion. Though I'm still working through this process of reevaluation (transformation?), I'm not sure I would yet be on the path without the joy and pain of this past year, both of which encouraged me to find a better way.

I've also seen others' colors shine bright through it all. My husband, my parents, my brother and sister-in-law. My heart overflows with gratitude when I think of the help, support, and unconditional love I've received from my family this past year.

And the overwhelming support from those who read this blog or follow me on Facebook. People whom I have never met, but who have sent gifts for Lily and notes of encouragement for me. I'm so appreciative and it's incredibly heartening to see how much goodness and love there is in this world.

These are my rainbows. Seeing the light in myself and in others. Having the opportunity to learn and grow, to make changes toward a more meaningful life. Being an example for my daughter. Teaching her that we can be both brave and scared. We can find gratitude in the midst of struggles. That there will be joy and pain. Like sunshine and rain.