Finding Me: Not the mom-me or the wife-me
This is part one of my story: Finding Me. I am sharing my story in the hopes of letting moms out there, that might be struggling with their birth or other things, know that they are not alone. Sometimes life is hard and kicks us right in the butt. Sometimes we loose ourselves in being the best mom, the best daughter, the besets friend, the best wife... the woman that can juggle it all. We fail to take care of ourselves though, we forget who we really are and what we enjoy. And this is the story of how I began to find myself.
In a previous post I shared my birth story and in it I shared, that my doctor called it a "traumatic event." I was diagnosed with Preeclampsia around 30 weeks, and during my birth, my left lung was collapsing, the nerves on my left leg were damaged, and I was left with a gap in my hips called Symphysis Pubis Disfunction. For months I couldn't get out of bed unassisted, I needed physical therapy to be able to walk again, and left the hospital with 7 different types of medication to take daily. All of that not only did it leave me unable to take care of myself, it left me unable to take care of my newborn baby. Only 6 months later, my husband and I separated and 2 months before that, I started working again full-time and going to school full-time. A lot right?
Life went on and things didn't get any easier, things got worst. So what did I naturally do? I pushed on and never dealt with this, so called traumatic event. I had to be strong for everyone else, I was not going to break down. I was going to be the mom that juggled it all and accomplished all she put her mind to flawlessly. I pushed it waaay in the back of my mind and for years did not understand, why it was called a "traumatic event."
Fast forward April 2015, my younger cousin died of similar birth complications to the ones I had. I was in the middle of one my company's biggest launch during that time. She was 25 and left behind her husband, and two beautiful daughters, one was a newborn. I have great memories of us growing up in Puerto Rico and my whole family was deeply affected by her sudden death. I took a plane to her funeral service and a flight right back to make it in time to deal with the launch of a new product at work. I begged my boss to not take me off the project, I assured him I could handle it all. And I did, my project was a success. And I was relieved to be able to attend my cousins funeral and be there with my family.
Soon after this I started experiencing anxiety attacks and my anxiety was to a level that I struggled managing. I remember vividly in July or August of that same year, getting an anxiety attack while driving. I had a thought that let me to sort of black out for a second. I was driving thinking about my cousin and asked myself what I would do, if I got pregnant again?
This is the part where it gets tricky. It was like I went into a trance, I was no longer driving. I was told I was pregnant and began to immediately panic and ask "what if I die? What if I die?" over and over again. No one was listening, no one understood. Just silence as I screamed for help, screaming "I'm dying!". The thought of being pregnant made me feel like I was dying. I couldn't breathe, I started to hyper ventilate, my heart was racing, my chest was tightening. I was in a room getting a C-section and I was dying. I began sobbing as I watched myself dying. "Panic is an intense wave of fear characterized by its unexpectedness and debilitating, immobilizing intensity."(https://www.helpguide.org/articles/anxiety/panic-attacks-and-panic-disorders.htm) Best way I can describe a panic attack is feeling like someone put a pillow on your face and is smothering you with it and you are struggling to take each breath.
I opened my eyes and I was on the road driving again. I began to truly sob, my chest still tight, feeling the weigh of the world on top of me.
I needed help, I couldn't do this anymore.
