One simple question- one kind and thoughtful question- was enough to gather a mountain of self doubt in me. “How are you feeling?” Pregnant women get asked this everyday. And the further along you are, the more the question comes up. In the last days of my pregnancy with Addie, I was asked in every encounter. How am I feeling? I would even ask myself. It shouldn’t be a hard question. But when I pondered this question, I could feel my blood pressure rise.
Because of my personality (Enneagram 9 if you are into that), this question is naturally hard for me. My answer is usually dependent on the moods of those around me. When it comes to deciphering your own emotions, that’s challenging for a lot of people. But most people could easily tell you how they are physically feeling. Not me. Not in the last days of pregnancy and early days of postpartum. And that’s a bad time not to know how you feel.
I think my trouble stems from how much I didn’t feel during the end of Ginny’s pregnancy. Shouldn’t I have felt that something was wrong? Shouldn’t I have known Ginny was struggling? Shouldn’t my body or my motherly instincts have given me a signal? Did I ignore something? Did I fail to notice red flags? Or do I lack motherly instincts? Can I be trusted with this?
On top of that, during the last month of pregnancy with both Chet and Addie I suffered from prodromal labor. That means I had strong contractions frequent enough to warrant going to the hospital without much, if any, significant progress. I would have hours of painful contractions every 3-5 minutes, and then they would go away to come back in a day or two. So many times I felt I was going in labor to only feel crazy at the next appointment when my cervix hadn’t dilated more. I remember crying to a labor and delivery nurse after being sent home the 2nd time when I was pregnant with Chet. She said, “You aren’t going to miss an 8+lb baby coming out.” But she didn’t understand; I needed my baby to be monitored! How would I know that he is handling the contractions well? My last baby died without me knowing! How would I know if this baby was dying too? I learned to lean on God and to basically ignore how my body was feeling. I would monitor the baby’s movements, but try to ignore my pain. In those moments, how was I supposed to answer “How are you feeling?” When I answered honestly, family and friends would get excited, believing that the baby was coming soon. I had to explain that my contractions don’t mean much, and I would feel so frustrated. I wished everyone would just stop asking me, but I knew they were just being thoughtful.
I was so relieved when Addie was born. But little did I know that answering about how I was feeling wouldn’t get easier. In fact, it would become a lot harder.
Besides the normal but excruciating post-birth contractions, the first few days after delivering Addie I felt fine. We came home from the hospital, and breastfeeding was going relatively smoothly and Addie was gaining weight back. My milk came in with the bitter-sweet reminder of postpartum with Ginny. All was well. But slowly I noticed my chest feeling funny. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what felt off. I felt sort of anxious, and I felt very aware of my heart and my breaths. I took my vitals. My blood pressure was slightly elevated and my pulse was lower than it had ever been. I didn’t feel right. But then again, I just had a baby. Was I supposed to feel “right”? I called the doctor. They were most concerned about postpartum preeclampsia. The only symptom I had was high blood pressure, and that was only borderline. I continued to monitor my vitals. I became worried and so anxious that I couldn’t sleep, even when Addie slept. Being anxious wasn’t helping my blood pressure. I tried to calm myself before taking my blood pressure, but the numbers were slowly rising. What helped the most was holding Addie to my chest. But it was the last day my in-laws and my sister would visit, so I had to share the cuddles. The next day family hesitantly left. As the day went on, I felt worse. My blood pressure got up to 170/94, and my doctor sent me to the hospital. Since family had already left, we had to rely on our amazing friends to care for Chet. Daniel and my hearts broke to leave him during an already uncertain time for him. Thankfully Daniel and I could bring Addie to the hospital with us.
When we arrived at the hospital, I was again faced with the question “How are you feeling?” from every nurse and doctor I encountered. I hated using phrases like “my chest feels weird” or “I just feel really off”. Nothing felt concrete enough. And I was only 4 days postpartum, so I knew it was normal to not feel myself yet. I kept doubting myself. Am I giving myself high blood pressure by needlessly worrying so much? Do I feel weird because I haven’t slept? Is this just anxiety? But my blood pressure was high, and I have two kids who need me. It’s better to be safe than sorry. They checked my levels for other indicators of preeclampsia. The doctor came in and made it seem like he wasn’t concerned with the results. He asked one last question, “Do you have a headache?” I froze. Do I have a headache? This is a yes or no question. It shouldn’t be hard, but my head felt really fuzzy. I couldn’t tell if I was manifesting a headache by thinking about it so much or if I truly had a headache. I explained my disclaimers to the doctor, “I have a newborn so I haven’t really slept in 4 days. It’s really hard to tell. I do have a slight headache when I shake my head, but honestly I wouldn’t even take a Tylenol for it.” His response felt like something that would happen in a nightmare. “Well since you answered my question wrong, I’m going to have to admit you.” I said, “Uh ok. Are you going to just monitor me or treat me.” He said, “I’m treating you with magnesium.” I asked, “Are there side effects?” He said, “You’re not going to like it.” Then he left, and the nurse proceeded to recite a long laundry list of horrible side effects from feeling really hot, to stomach flu-like symptoms, to inability to move, to trouble breathing, to not being able to nurse your baby. She left me to change into a hospital gown, and I started to panic. What have I done?! Why couldn’t I just chill the hell out and enjoy being home with my two beautiful babies? Why oh why did I answer that question “wrong”?!
The first night of magnesium treatment wasn’t too bad. And thankfully my sister was able to come back to Auburn the next morning to take care of Addie in the hospital with me while Daniel was able to give Chet a little bit of normalcy. My blood pressure had come down. But then as the morning proceeded, side effects started ramping up. I had trouble holding my head up. I had to focus a lot to breath. I couldn’t sleep for fear I would stop breathing. I could barely lift my arms. Eventually my eyes could no longer move in coordination with each other, and I could hardly see. I was so grateful the wonderful OB who delivered Addie was the next doctor on call. The nurses explained how I was having an awful reaction to the magnesium, and thankfully she decided to pause my treatment. It didn’t take long for the magnesium to leave my system and for me to feel much better. Since my case was borderline, I was able to go home once my bloodwork came back good.
The nurses had such a hard time drawing my blood. After being poked by the nearby nurses, the charge nurse, the “vein whisperer”, the one who trains everyone else to draw blood, and finally “the big guns”, I was stabbed 20 times. But honestly God gave me so much grace for that. It was amazing to get to meet all those incredible nurses. One of the last attempts, there were multiple nurses in the room. The one trying was praying out loud, “In the name of Jesus!” I said, “Yes!” in agreement. She got it! The results came in, and my calcium levels were critically low. I was given a couple bags of calcium, and then was finally able to go back home after two nights.
When I got home, I hid my blood pressure cuff. I didn’t even want to look at it. I would be seen for a follow-up in a few days. I was going to just focus on resting, recovering, and snuggling my babies. Thankfully my blood pressure went back to normal after a few weeks. And when I saw my primary care doctor a couple months later, she told me that my labs did look like I had preeclampsia. I felt validated. I finally felt like what I was feeling was not in my head and that I went through wasn’t for nothing. In the first few weeks when I thought back on that experience, I felt so much self doubt and shame. But when I take a step back and think about how I recognized when I felt something wasn’t right, spoke up about it, and got treatment to protect myself from something much worse, I am proud of how I handled it. It was awful, but it was better to be safe than sorry. And I am so grateful that both Addie and I are safe and healthy.
I still struggle to know how I feel and whether what I feel is fear, instinct, or the Holy Spirit. I pray that God gives me wisdom and discernment in my feelings, especially in parenting after loss.
Be-Still-and-Know 