Not being able to sleep has to be one of the most annoying things I've ever dealt with. It has been going on for far far too long. The first couple weeks I didn't really think much of it. I've never really been a great sleeper. I have never been one to fall right to sleep. My husband, however, falls asleep minutes after closing his eyes. I so wish that were me! I have always needed a tv to fall asleep. Which is a horrible crutch. I hope to avoid it with my kids, if possible. I don't remember a time that I didn't use a tv to help me fall asleep. I hate the dark...absolutely hate it. The unknown factor of it just totally creeps me out. I hate my creeky house and that it only makes noises in the middle of the night. I hate that I'm 27 years old and still have these irrational fears!
Seriously, I should be the one able to comfort my girls when they are older and afraid of the dark or the monster under the bed. But, I would be huddled on the bed with them, hiding under the covers.
Really, I just need to suck it up and keep calling the doctors office until I get an appointment or some answers. All of it stems from my postpartum depression/anxiety. When I had my check-up after having Brynna I talked to the doctor about my postpartum and she referred me to a place...maybe you could call it a clinic or something. Well, I called to get an appointment and the man that answered the phone was incredibly rude and condescending. He told me that I would need to talk to him on the phone for 15 minutes and then he would decide if he should refer me to see a doctor...and that I wouldn't be able to see a doctor for at least 3 months. Oh and to top it off he told me the only way he could speak to me and set up a possible appointment would be to give him my social security number. Ummm, no. So that was a dead end. I told myself I would just wait it out and if I didn't feel better I would call my doctor back and get a different reference. Well, it stayed the same...got a little worse...got a little better and then came back full force and has now resulted in me pretty much never sleeping and if I do happen to dose off I wake up in a terror/panic multiple times a night. So on Friday I finally sucked it up and decided to call my doctor to get an appointment. I waited to call during Alana's nap, so there wouldn't be a screaming toddler in the background while I'm trying to talk to them. So, of course on Fridays the office closes at 2:00. Go figure.
I should have called back today....I so wish I would have. I keep trying to convince myself that I'm fine and don't really have the depression or anxiety anymore. I mean, I don't lay around the house in a funk or feel overwhelmingly sad. It's just like a switch goes off. If Alana is being really bad and throwing a tantrum...which happens more often than I wish to admit these days....I totally lose it. I just can't handle it. I feel like I'm having a complete nervous break down and collapse into a puddle of tears. It makes me feel like a horrible mom, and feel like my life is completely over. I know that's probably a little dramatic, but in the moment all I can think about is that it will always be like this...she will always be a brat...she will always kick and scream because she doesn't want to eat lunch or some other random thing. Alan and I will never be able to go out and leave her with a babysitter b/c I would be so embarrassed and feel horrible to make someone else deal with that.
The other switch that goes off is just immense sadness. I was in the car with just Alana the other day and a song came on the radio...I don't even remember what song it was....but it for some reason made me think of having another baby. This then spun me into a spiral of thinking how I will never, no matter how many children I have get to experience the type of birth I want. I will never get a baby placed on my chest after birth . I will always be strapped down and cut open. I will never get to go into labor on my own. And it all just made me sit at a red light and cry. I know, I know...big pity party for me. I know I should be (and I am) incredibly grateful that I am able to have healthy, beautiful children. But it's not how I pictured it. It's not what I wanted. I don't know anyone that dreams of having a c-section some day....if they do, that's strange.
The anxiety is just hard to explain. If you've ever imagined something bad happening....just imagine doing that all day, everyday. I can't sleep because every noise I hear I think is someone trying to break in or that someone is already in the house. I worry that maybe someone followed me home from the store and is just waiting for the wee hours of the morning to break in and kill us all. I worry about the house catching on fire. I worry about something horrible happening to my girls....choking, falling....really anything horrible that could happen to a person...I've worried about it happening to my girls.
This is really the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with. I try to act like it's not happening and go on with life. I don't even think my husband knows the half of what I'm dealing with in this head of mine. Not because he's not supportive or caring....but b/c I hide it from him. I'm embarrassed...ashamed...disappointed and feel like a failure because I can't get over this.
I know the solution will be counseling and medicine...but then the worrier in me doesn't want to take any medicine because I'm breastfeeding, and I don't want to give that up. It's really just a viscous cycle.
A cycle of no sleep and taking care of kids.
