Sunday, Crappy Sunday

Thanks to Amy @ Dwelling on Dreams for giving me the courage to post this after I read her post. I don't like to admit weaknesses (darn perfectionist personality) and for that reason, I think I've hesitated to write about the not-so-fun happenings in my brain, or whatever part of us houses our emotions and ability to rationalize between heart and head.


I've been struggling with anxiety. Back in 2005, after college, starting a new teaching career, and the dissolution of my 6 year relationship, I started having full-blown panic attacks. My doctor put me on a low-grade anti-depressant which I stayed on until summer 2009 when I started seeing a therapist so that I could go off the meds. I've therefore been off anxiety meds for over three years. I've had a few minor panic attacks here and there, but my therapist gave me coping mechanisms and helped me deal with the underlying issues of those attacks.

Fast forward to second trimester. I have between five and ten minor panic attacks A DAY right now. They come on randomly. I can't control them and I can't even tell you what initiates them. I get anxious before I eat every meal. Honestly, I can get anxious just watching TV. These aren't full blown attacks, just a tightening of my chest and a feeling of general unease and anxiety. Anyone who's ever had a panic attack knows this feeling.

Well, Sunday seemed to be the pinnacle of these attacks. I had grad school work, grading, and house cleaning to do. DH had people over to watch football. I was making dinner for SIL to help out with the baby. And I lost it. I broke down sobbing uncontrollably, unable to breathe. I had a sharp pain in my lower-left pelvic area which of course freaked me out. DH calmed me down, brought me a fan, and generally took care of me. And then it happened again Sunday night. I got back from a walk which I thought would've calmed me down (no such luck). DH lost his wedding ring playing football in the backyard, and one of his friends had sat on my gorgeous leather couch with a wet bathing suit, leaving a cushion-sized mark on the couch. Of course, in my state, I was convinced the couch was ruined. (The couch, however, has turned out just fine after some conditioning and intensive fan-drying, but the wedding ring has not yet been found). Cue sobbing, and worse, sobbing in the shower.

I was ashamed of the way I was feeling. Ashamed that I--of all people--couldn't control my emotions. I'm supposed to be strong, positive, glowing. Instead, I'm this heaping, sobbing mess crying on the shower wall. I love Baby Boy so much, and what made this whole situation worse is I kept thinking that I was hurting him. If he feels what I feel, is he upset? Am I hurting his emotional state? Is he going to come out and be this anxiety-filled terror because of me? Is he feeling all of my stress? I guilted myself into believing the worst. And of course, because I was so hysterical, I couldn't feel him moving as much. Panic and anxiety took hold.

Again, DH is amazing and wonderful (despite the lost ring). He just held me. He did use tough love, telling me I have to stop and I do have to think about Daniel, but he helped. I wanted to eat yogurt for dinner; he made me eat real food. I had two nice sips of wine, and I did eventually calm down. My principal let me come into work late on Monday so that maybe I could get some sleep. The whole anxiety situation is compounded by the fact that I can't sleep through the night anymore so I'm overtired and mentally exhausted.

Honestly, I don't know how to handle these little chest-tightening anxiety issues. I don't want to be on meds because really I don't feel these instances are enough to warrant meds. I don't want to hurt Baby Boy. I desperately want to sleep. I want to be in control of my emotions and my anxiety again and I feel powerless. How can I gain back my positive emotional state? I'm petrified that DH is going to get fed up with me and stop being so wonderful and understanding. I don't want to push him away.

Baby Boy seems to be doing great. I feel him all the time, but I can't help but worry about (please don't judge) him being strangled by his umbilical cord. WHY WHY WHY is this in my head? Do normal people worry about this? I'm petrified that because he's so active he's going to hurt himself.

I go see Dr. N today for my 24 week checkup. I will be asking her about the anxiety, and hopefully she can tell me I can take something to help me sleep, but no anxiety meds.

Not the happy-go-lucky post expected of a prego who's thrilled to be prego, but it's nice to write these things down. Thanks for listening, blog friends.