Originally uploaded by MogosMama
I suppose it is a given that Mogo & Charlie are so different. I am not really sure why that surprises me. Their personalities are as different as their pregnancies were. I did not post often when I was PG with Charlie. This was mainly because I was trying not to dwell on the fear, I was trying to put only positive energy into the universe where pregnancy was involved but also because I knew that the thoughts floating in my brain were not the type to say out loud until well after the fact. Now that Charlie is 7 months old and passed the point where my PPD reared its ugly head with Mogo, I feel I can talk a little about it. I think I have escaped without falling into a black hole.
With Morrigan, my pregnancy was long. After multiple pregnancy losses and some complications requiring 5 months of bed rest, I was filled with anxiety but the post partum was far worse. In the beginning, all was well but slowly I developed a severe case of PPD. Wow, those were some of the darkest days of my life. It took over a year after giving birth to Mogo for me to feel somewhat “normal” again. Now, with Charlie, the pregnancy was normal with the exception of a little thing called Gestational Diabetes. Depression and anxiety showed up much earlier for Charlie’s pregnancy though, those very dark days were met with instant relief the minute she entered the world. Toward the end, I was going absolutely mad. The insomnia, the nightmares about dead babies, all were just so hard to handle. It was a 1 day at a time sort of thing, sometimes it was 1 minute at a time to get through it. I was so scared. I lived at the Labor & Delivery Triage – seriously the nurses knew me and tried hard not to roll their eyes. I had an open invitation to have Charlie’s heartbeat checked any hour of the day. Eventually, Charlie was taken early… for my sake, not hers. I simply could not last another day of not knowing if she would live. Despite the fact that she was perfect and growing beautifully, I was certain the longer she stayed in there the more danger she was in. I simply had to have that baby out – she would be safer in a NICU than in my belly as far as I was concerned. It was so irrational and I knew it was irrational, but it did not stop being true… in my mind anyways. My OB/GYN was awesome. She humored me, she understood, but she also helped to encourage me to hang in there as long as possible. In the end, she agreed that my mental state was not helping Charlie or my blood pressure and she agreed to take her early. I actually showed up at L&D and told them I intended to have my baby that day. No, I was not in labor but I was done and I was not leaving there without a baby. One look at my Old Man confirmed that no, I was not kidding.
You know… I am grateful Charlie was ok and that the only consequences of my impatience were a lazy suck and some formula supplementation. I got off easy. I can only imagine the guilt that would follow had she experienced any complications as a result of my insistence that she make her birth date 3 weeks too soon.
Since her birth, there has been no depression, no horrifying thoughts. The only pictures in my mind have been of bouncing babies and not babies bouncing (as in down the stairs). Charlie has been able to have a Mom that is present; a mom that is clear-headed and sane. She seems so innocent and so new to the world unlike her sister, who always seemed to have this very old soul. I am grateful that I am not experiencing PPD this time but I can’t help but feel like Mogo was cheated. When Mogo was born, I was elated. I had so much joy about her entry into this place that the love seemed to physically hurt. The fear was debilitating. It went so far beyond waking up and checking to see if she was breathing. My jaw would not unclench, my hands shook, and I became concerned that I would neglect her or hurt her. I did not think I was safe to be alone with my own daughter. I knew something was wrong but I thought if I told anyone, they would take her from me. It wasn’t until I decided I was nuts enough that maybe someone should take her from me that I spoke up. I avoided inpatient treatment by the skin of my arse. I was determined to nurse. The only reason they let me go home was because I had a good support system. Matt would leave for work and wonder what he would be coming home to. Sometimes I wonder if he will ever forgive me for that. I am not sure I could forgive it.
Granted, I got the help I needed. Mogo has continued to develop normally and we are bonded; I just can’t help but think that she was cheated out of something very important because her mom went crazy for the first year of her life. I wonder if when she is a woman and starting to think about having her own children, if she will understand when I tell her about what PPD looks like. I wonder if she will be angry with me or feel somehow less loved that I did not have the same problem with Charlie. It just doesn’t seem fair that Mogo has not been able to experience a carefree childhood. She has experienced so much in her little life. She is wise beyond her years. I don’t know if that is because of her experiences or if she arrived in the womb that way. I would like to think that perhaps she chose us because her spirit knew she could handle it. I’d like to think that I am not the reason my 6 year old talks to me like she is 40.
Nuff said.
