Let's have a baby!

Part Four.

It's the beginning of December 2014, I'm on my way to the hospital because I'm severely suicidal. There's also a small (actually big) thing I've forgotten to mention...

I'm PREGNANT.

From just about the day we conceived, I was sure I felt pregnant. I could just tell. I was nauseous and felt like crap. Anxiety manifests itself in so many different ways and can be different for each individual. I've had stomach pains so severe I had to lay down, I've been so nauseous I've actually thrown up and I've had migraines like I'm going through the worst hangover, all from my daily anxiety. A lot of these symptoms I was experiencing are also pregnancy symptoms. I was also exhausted, which could be from my depression..only this time I knew I was pregnant.

When a friend has mentioned they think they could be pregnant, they always say to me, "Oh I think I'm pregnant, I'll wait a couple more days or a week and then take a test" and then there's me; OMG I"M PREGNANT. I know I am. I need to test ASAP! I go and buy 4 tests. Not the dollar store kind, because for some reason I feel they are inadequate. 4 tests were negative. I would be less then 2 weeks along...but that's soon enough, my HCG levels MUST be sufficient to detect on a test. I was sure of it. The test is wrong. I called my doctor and had them order me a blood test. Negative. I waited a couple days and tested again. Negative. I was nauseous, anxious, depressed, exhausted, suicidal and cramping with daily migraines. I was just the person people wanted to be around. I told my best friend that I either had cancer or I was pregnant. Either way, something was going on with me. I took 3 more tests, all negative. I ordered another blood test, negative. My husband actually told me I was losing it. "Anastasia, you've got to pull yourself together. You're clearly not pregnant." I didn't believe him. It was a Monday when I took my 13th test, which was once again negative. I took another test on Tuesday...POSITIVE. Holy shit. I KNEW it.

Now let me tell you, when I'm pregnant, I become a monster bitch. I really think that one of these pregnancies I'm going to wind up in jail or dead because I was out of line with someone who was apparently in the Mexican mafia. I glare at strangers at the store. I criticize everybody for everything. bah, look at that chick. who does she think she is, smiling at me. I wish I had lasers in my eyes. Kyle took an extra 30 seconds to shower, what the hell is his problem. Doesn't he know I'm waiting for him! This ruins everything. My life is ruined. He is so selfish. My whole day is ruined and I murder anybody who is in my way. I don't know why Kyle stays with me, it's like he forgets he wants to kill me when I'm pregnant and we think YEAH! Let's have a baby! and not even 2 weeks after I'm pregnant, he's wishing I would move out for the next 9 months. It's a good thing my boobs get bigger.

So let's look at my life at this point. Everything actually makes sense to me. My skyrocketing anxiety, my sudden severe depression and suicidal thoughts, my nausea and exhaustion only increasing my inability to be human and my extreme moodiness. It's a great combination. I cried for probably 3 weeks strait when I found out I was pregnant. If there is a God, which is my own personal debate, why the hell does he hate me so much? and then I try to think like a mormon, God only gives me these trials because he knows I can handle them. I will come out a stronger person because of this. Oh good hell. What's gonna happen, is I'm gonna be 6 feet under because I clearly am NOT strong enough for this. Maybe then I'll find out if God truly exists. This was my hatred talking. I was pissed. I felt like I couldn't even take care of my children that were living outside my body...I was in no way, shape or form able to take care of myself physically enough to grow a healthy baby! Let's not even get started on my meds! Every medication I am on is a category C or category D, uncertain and definite risks to baby. Yet, if I stopped taking my meds, I would withdraw severely.

I didn't feel sorry for myself, I was just pissed. Yeah I wanted a baby, but I'm so impulsive and I always say I want a baby. I didn't expect to be so fertile. All Kyle has to do is look at me and BAM! we're pregnant. I guess it's a good thing it isn't cancer...

Despite me finding out I was pregnant, I was still in the midst of the hurricane of anxiety and depression. The pregnancy only seemed to worsen it.

So here I am, a pregnant, depressed, suicidal, anxious, pissed off person having a severe panic attack at the hospital. They refuse to give me anything for my anxiety because I'm pregnant. That just pissed me off. Could they not tell that my panic attacks were immensely stressful and the amount of stress I was putting this poor baby through could not compare in dangers to whatever meds they were withholding from me. We tried two doses of something I can't even remember. It wasn't working. The nurse and doctor came in and saw my panic attack. They immediately left the room. The nurse came back and said "We've GOT to calm you down. We are going to try something we've never done before, but it's a lot safer for you since you're pregnant. We are going to give you Ketamine." I started laughing, well the best a person who can't catch their breath and is contorting can... "Ketamine?!" I said "Oh boy, I must really be out of control if you're using ketamine to control my anxiety." My daughter Madelyn had been given Ketamine once when she got stitches. It was hilarious. It completely knocked her out, yet her eyes were open and she would move like she was hallucinating.

I don't remember much after that. I was swept to an Alice in Wonderland world. I remember everything was black and white. When suddenly a strange thought would pop into my head This is not real and I'd try to focus with my eyes and all the sudden I would see a hospital room. Then the beautiful people of Wonderland would flash back into focus. It was such a trip. I was utterly confused about what was going on in my life. What a disappointment when I finally came to and realized I wasn't in Wonderland, but in a hospital, on suicide watch.

The Ketamine "worked". It's a tranquilizer. Which is honestly exactly what I needed. I needed my brain to slow the freak down. Is that what my thoughts revert to when they aren't over stimulated? Wonderland? How delightful. Kyle recorded me when I was out and took pictures. If I ever figure out how to use this blog thing...I'll post them. After the Ketamine had mostly worn off, I was transferred to the psych unit at UVRMC, again. I slept great that night and awoke before any of the other prisoners the next morning.

I was numb. My anxiety was minimal. It was something about being in that hospital, having all my choices taken away from me. It's like I really didn't have to think about anything. They say that if you want to get discharged quickly, you need to do what the team supervising your care needs you to do and participate in the daily activities. I no longer wanted to hurt myself, but at this moment, I wanted to punch the other prisoners in the face. They were so happy and fake and doing their stupid puzzles and coloring pictures of horses like mental patients, it drove me crazy. A girl was in there after a failed suicide attempt. She just bothered me. She would cry on the phone to her family and I just wanted to slap her and say "You did this! Grow up and move on!". Like I said folks, royal bitch. I told my therapist I was no longer suicidal, and I really wasn't. Being at the hospital is like you are just transported to another world. You forget who you are because you are suddenly surrounded by a new fascinating environment. I was discharged that night.

I was terrified to leave the hospital, but I knew I couldn't stay there. It was driving me crazy watching those lunatics and keeping my mouth shut. I devised a suicide prevention plan and talked with my inpatient therapist a little more about me being suicidal. I really had the opportunity to explore why I was really suicidal. It was all because of my anxiety. I truly did not want to die. I did not want to hurt myself. I just was desperate for some relief, anything to give me hope.

Kyle was terrified to go to work after I came home. He would constantly call me and check up on me. I still had those suicidal thoughts running through my head and my anxiety was once again unbearable but I knew I wasn't going to kill myself. It made me sad that I now realized I wasn't going to kill myself. Suicide was the easy way out and now I had to take the hard path. I HAD to work through this. I didn't have a choice. I am so impulsive that I knew that if I had a single moment of weakness, it could end in death, but now I was too sad to even be impulsive. I would be anxious and sad, two conflicting emotions that seemed to control me.

I couldn't do anything. I laid on the couch while my children played in the living room in front of me and watched TV during the day. I waited for Kyle to get home so I could go to sleep. Kyle would make dinner, clean the house, put the kids to bed and come into bed, to give me a back tickle, hoping to ease my troublesome mind.

I had been telling my therapist I thought I was pregnant for weeks now, it just added to my craziness. It shocked him when I told him I really was pregnant. He actually laughed and said something along the lines of "another thing we will work through" and "not the greatest timing." In a sense, it was comical. Let's add pregnancy hormones to someone who already can't keep their shit together! Now I had to think about someone besides myself. I had to make conscious decisions about my health and my body. I was growing a human. I made an appointment at my midwife office. They told me I needed to see a high risk OBGYN because of my meds and I needed to be seen ASAP.

At the OBGYN office I'm in the waiting room. I hate doctor's offices. I hate going places. I have to schedule everything at a time Kyle is home so he can watch the kids. I've taken the kids to a doctors appointment once before. That day I had a panic attack, while trying to take care of my two minions. That was the day we started Klonopin. I would have preferred Kyle to be with me at my appointments, but my family and Kyle's family had been helping out with the kids so much lately that I didn't feel it was right to ask them for yet another favor. It was just another doctors appointment. I'm sure I'll be fine. Wrong, yet again! The entire day had been a horrible day. My anxiety was around 8-9 on that scale of 1-10. I was anticipating this appointment. Are they going to tell me I need to stop taking my meds? What's going to happen then?! My meds barely even touch my anxiety now! What's it going to be like with no assistance?! But what are my meds doing to the baby? I can't stop cramping either... is it because of my stress? or my meds??

I started to hyperventilate in the waiting room. My hands started to shake and I felt very lightheaded. I started to silently cry. They moved me back to the patient room and I go into full blown panic attack mode. I can't catch my breath and tears are streaming down my face. My entire body is shaking and my chest sporadically feels like I'm having a heart attack. This panic attack was one of the worst ones I've ever experienced. It lasted for a good 40 minutes. The nurses laid me down and turned off the light, trying to get me to relax. The OBGYN came in and just started at me. She took ahold of my hand and said she was so sorry I was going through this. She said it was imperative I continue my medications, despite the seriousness of them. The risk to me stopping my meds is greater then the risk to baby if I stay on my meds. I still couldn't calm down. My brain could not find some point of relaxation. I was tense and no matter how hard I tried to take a deep breath or just relax, my brain and body didn't care. I couldn't stop crying. I honestly couldn't even tell you what I was so anxious about. At this point I feel my anxiety had attached itself to every cell in my body. It was a subconscious response. I felt like my brain and body acted on anxiety without me even doing a damn thing.

The OBGYN asked if I was eating and drinking enough. I told her the truth. I hadn't eaten anything and drank close to nothing for 3 days. No wonder I was cramping. She told me she was sending me to the ER. I needed to get a better plan figured out for my anxiety. I needed to meet with a Perinatologist as well as a Genetics Counselor to discuss my meds, but it was certain. I needed either a significant change in my meds or a significant increase in my meds. My anxiety HAD to be more controlled. This stress is dangerous to the baby. The OBGYN looked at me for a while and was very careful when she said these next words, I could sense the compassion and worry in her voice and she said "Have you considered not keeping this baby?" I started crying harder, feeling the guilt burning up inside me. "Yes, I've thought about an abortion. This pregnancy is going to be the hardest 9 months of my life and I honestly don't know how I'm going to get through it, but I know for a fact I could never live with myself if I had an abortion. Yes I've considered it, but it is not an option." It really hit me hard that she asked me that. This was serious. My anxiety was so out of control, it could be safer for my own health to abort the baby. I immediately became anxious about my baby's health. What was I doing to this baby? I couldn't stop my meds and my anxiety was so high, I was sure this poor baby could sense it. I HAD to figure out a way to get through this. My OBGYN was concerned about my mental and physical health...

Once again I was sent to the hospital. They would not give me anything for anxiety because I was pregnant, didn't give me fluids or any type of nutrition. They told me they wanted to admit me to the psych ward to figure out my anxiety. WTF! Why does everybody think locking me up in the hospital is the greatest idea?! I am already seeing a therapist. I am already seeing a psychiatrist. I'm already seeing all the people that I would see in the hospital, I'm just doing it outpatient. I was pissed. I refused the psych ward and was discharged.

At my Psychiatrist appointment I told her about the pregnancy, my OBGYN appointment and what my OBGYN said. She then tells me "I no longer feel comfortable prescribing you your medications while you are pregnant. If your OBGYN feels you should continue your meds, she can prescribe them." WTF. Is this bitch TRYING to kill me? Who the hell am I going to get my meds from? My OBGYN?? Is my OBGYN going to manage my mental health now? Yeah, that makes sense. 

I left my appointment in tears, once again. Why do I keep getting kicked when I'm already beaten, bleeding and down? There is no way I can get through this. I have no hope. All the doors are slamming in my face. I would just lay in bed or on the couch; nauseous, shaking, heart pounding and crying. I wasn't going to kill myself, but if I didn't wake up one morning, I wouldn't have cared.