Down Came the Rain

I have decided I need to get some things off my chest, something I feel compelled to write in light of many things that have happened to me or friends and because I feel like it isn't talked at all. Something that is spoken about quickly and just as quickly dismissed. Somethings in case you are looking for someone that feels the same as you do or did. And so you know, you are NOT alone!

My friend Lyzz gave me a book, well an audio book (we have twins, we don't have time to read a book, let alone go to the bathroom alone) called Down Came the Rain by Brooke Shields. It is Shield's account of her postpartum depression after treatments to become pregnant. As I listened, I thought about me and my girls, and my struggle after they were born and my guilt and all that came with the birth of my girls. I thought alot....

I have said a few things, but I have only been slightly truthful and forthcoming with information. I have only been 100% openly honest with Lyzz. She has twins, she had PPD too, we have some sort of kindred spiritual connection. I have said a few things to others, but I felt like they judged me and although they meant well, I didn't think anyone could completely understand.

So if you read this part of my story and feel the need to be rude or leave a nasty comment, please keep it to yourself and don't feel the need to return to my blog. Thanks bye!

After deciding to have a baby, I thought, life will be great. I would be this excellent mother that I had heard that I would be from my mom and friends and others. My mom has said over and over that I should "have a dozen". I on the other hand, envisioned a sweet little baby, nestled all snug in my arms, swaddled and staring at me sweetly and babbling. I never once envisioned that baby would cry and scream and turn red. I imagined myself standing over the crib and looking down and drinking in the smell and sight of my little baby... this little baby that Bobby and I lovingly created.

Then it all faded... it started with miscarriage number 1. My innocence was taken. Some part of my naivety died that horrid day in October 3 years ago. I wondered why me? Why us? Crackheads have babies all the time, people neglected and abuse their kids and they have 6. Why us? I was mad, angry, sad and devastated. Then I pulled up my boot straps and I was going to get pregnant. After having the D&C, the dr told us we could try again. So we did. Then...

Miscarriage #2 less than 8 weeks from the first one. After waiting for 2 weeks, I had to have another D&C. Then dr told us we had "bad luck". Again, I was angry and hurt and grieving the loss of 2 babies I would never hold, see, or feel that soft baby cheek against mine.

Then after a few more cycles of trying, I got diagnosed with PCOS. That explained some. But with the diagnosis, came a wave of sadness. After the initial shock, I was going to get pregnant, damn it. I did everything the dr told me to do. I went on a diet and I was exercising and if I did that, I could have some Clomid. Ok. Done. After going through that, month after month, I started to get down. The anniversary of what should have been the due date of my first m/c came and went. Still not pregnant. Then the due date came of the 2nd m/c. Still not pregnant. Then I started feeling sadder and sadder. But I WAS going to get pregnant.

After going to the Jones Inst., and having some more treatments and surgery and feeling worse and worse about myself. Every month getting my hopes up for over 2 years now only to have myself knocked down back into reality with a pregnancy test that only had 1 line on it.

Then one beautiful cold Sunday morning, I peed. And since I had become so use to seeing 1 line of the pregnancy test, I walked off and started cleaning the house. I knew I wasn't pregnant, so why bother. I don't even know how much later, I came back to the bathroom and there lying on the counter was a faint second blue line on the pregnancy test. And my world went crazy. I realized, I wasn't sure if that was really a line. I mean was it really, or was I seeing it. Then OMG I don't have to pee. But I had to. I mean was this real? So I got a paper cup and squeezed out as much pee as I could so I could dip the 1 digital pregnancy test I have been saving for months to pee on once I knew I was pregnant. But this was an emergency... was it a second blue line or not? After that 2 minutes of the little sand timer spinning on the CBE digital... "pregnant".

I cried and prayed and cried and sang Christmas carols as I drove to the fire station to tell Bobby. Getting pulled over for speeding on the way (luckily I whipped out my freshly peed on HPT and showed it to the cop, who let me off with a talking to). I was happy, scared, ecstatic, scared....

Then after a few scary weeks of HCG levels not doubling and spotting and all. 7 weeks and 3 days pregnant, TWINS! Yes we won the baby lotto! Not only was I pregnant, but now it was twins, we would never have to go through all of this again. Life was going to be good!

I had a seemingly unexciting pregnancy, minus the carpal tunnel and possible 1 placenta that the u/s tech decided to scare me with. So all should be good, my wish was coming true.

Then August 8, 2009, I walked into the hospital to be induced at 37 weeks 5 days. After a pretty boring labor, I had my girls. I should have known something was wrong with me from the moment Kristin was born. Dr M put her on my stomach and I cringed. OMG she was bloody and had some nasty stuff on her and they told me to touch her. Ughhhh... I just wanted her off of me. Then when Lara was born, Dr M put her up on my belly too. OMG stop! After I was grossed out the first time, you would have thought he wouldn't have done it again. But I was just as grossed out on round 2! Please wash these babies up.

So here I was... mommy to twins. I felt like I was having an outer body experience. I didn't feel like myself. I just wanted to be alone. I just remember the nurse and Bobby smiling from ear to ear with my mom and his parents in tow rolling in the bassinets with the girls into my PP room. And right then and there I could have run. I was scared shitless. Didn't they know I wasn't old enough or something to have a baby, let alone two? Something was wrong here. But they handed them to me, feed them. WHAT? Oh yeah. I am going to breastfeed. And I sat there feeling weird and looking at this babies. And wondering why they were so foreign to me.

I didn't see this:



And I felt like this:



I wasn't myself. I felt like a fraud. I didn't know what I was doing. I wondered what the hell Bobby and I were thinking, why did we decide to have a baby? Why is he so in love with them? What's wrong with me? I was upset. I felt nothing. Nothing. I didn't have this overwhelming love that everyone said I would have. I didn't have a desire to sit there and stare at them. In fact, I was actually a little pissed at Bobby for not letting me send them to the nursery so we could get some rest. Instead, I sat there, listening to him snore and these creatures that made all kinds of noises and I felt... weird. They were alien to me. I didn't know them. I was fascinated that they came out of my body, that they had grown in there, but I had no attachment to them. Nothing.

I sat there and cried. This wasn't the motherhood I had planned for. This wasn't what I envisioned. Nothing like I imagined.

The hospital stay was a whirlwind. People coming and going. 2 babies constantly crying at night. Daytime, people were visiting and kissing all over these babies. And then there was me, sitting there in my bed, having this outer body experience. This wasn't real. And no one seemed to notice. Thank God, no one was paying attention to me.

36 hours after they were born, I was in tears yelling at Bobby in the middle of the night. Saying wtf had we done? Why couldn't we get them quiet? What else could we do? Bobby went and got the nurse, she said she could take them to the nursery but bring them back when they needed to be fed and Bobby was all "hell no or I will have to go be with them, we can't let them be down there". I wanted them to go, but with tears, I agreed to let them stay. I resented him. I resented them. I was tired. I needed sleep. I felt nothing... for anyone.

Then Lyzz came. She said to me "if you don't feel an overwhelming love right now, it's ok". But I couldn't say anything, she would think I was weird, besides, it is cause I am so tired, right? I told her about Bobby going home to take a nap... you know cause he was tired and all. And she knew something was going wrong, I was angry at him. Little did she know.

Dr M came to see me and do his check before I could leave. And I wanted to leave. Just no one knew I wanted to go alone. I just wanted to be alone. But then I felt so guilty for feeling like I needed to escape. Guilt. Sadness. No overwhelming love. And a flabby ruined body.

We came home and then it began....

That's all I can do tonight. This is hard. This is hard for me to admit. Makes me feel guilty. I am reliving this nightmare, this nightmare that I want to close the door on and not relive, let alone talk about or admit to.

So I will leave you with my sweet girls:




To be continued....