I’m taking the rest of the night off, Gorgeouses…. I hope these women don’t mind my sharing, but I just had two really intense phone calls. I won’t go into detail, but I spoke to two wonderful, brave women just now — one after the other — who are both going through exactly what I went through in my pregnancies: prenatal depression and anxiety (if you want to read about it, go to my “prenatal depression / anxiety” category — and feel free to laugh at me because I can fully laugh now at how COMPLETELY INSANE I was).

I could feel THE THING in their voices. I started to shake and get chills. I felt for them IN THE THICK of it, but I know they’ll be fine. I want to help them and be there for them because NOBODY ELSE CAN — aside from the doctors, nurses and psychiatrists, but even THEY can’t fully get at THE THING.

Nobody can possibly understand what it’s like to be paralyzed with FEAR while you’re pregnant. I can’t imagine much could be worse. It’s hell on earth. But, as I explained to the women, it’s a gift. They’ll be better mothers for it. They’ll learn to live with fear and uncertainty. To cope with it and accept it as the mind’s way of saying “WHAT ABOUT MEEEEE? WHAT ABOUT MEEEEE?”

GRATUITOUS ANALOGY: It’s like Minden not wanting to make room for the Rascal and showering me with wet sloppy kisses all night long (AND RIGHT NOW…excuse me, Minden!!)!

Like Minden, the mind (or “ego,” as we yogis call it) needs to make room for the baby. We just have to let it know we still love it — like, with a hot bath, a manicure, a FACIAL, healthy food, yoga, walking outside, etc..

Maybe this sounds crazy. But, I think, for people who’ve gone through what I — and these woman — have, it makes a lot of sense, and thinking this way may just help us heal.

I know, even now, as a mother of two, when I don’t take care of myself I get depressed and irritable and anxious. Those are gifts — my mind’s saying “HEYYYYY, TAKE CARE OF MEEEE!” And, making time for MOI, I’ve learned, is one of the best things I can do for me AND my kids.

Anyway. I could go on forever. There’s so much to say.

I’m so grateful my psychiatrist asked me to call these women. This is yet another wonderful thing that came out of the hell I went through in pregnancy: I can help other women through it. I can tell them they’re normal. That it’s NOT THEM. That they are not their thoughts. That their baby’s FINE and happy and thriving in its own little home, safe from their anguish. I can tell them to be grateful for the experience because it will make them better mothers, better people. I can tell them they’ll get through it and that I’m here for them. Sometimes all you need to feel better is the knowledge that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. That others have walked the same path and come out alive and happy and better for it.

I can tell them this is their initiation into motherhood….

And, I can tell them that it’s all worth it….

All of it……..

“Don’t cry over spilled milk” — my daily mantra….

Sigh…. I wish I could make them better….

HAND!!!!!

HAPPY 1st BIRTHDAY, LITTLE RASCAL! I CAN’T EVEN TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU! AND, YOUR HAIRCUT IS STILL DRIVING ME CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAZY! LOVE! MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH!

Sigh. In love!

xo Haley-O

P.S.: Send some good healing vibes out to these two moms-to-be, if you think of it, Gorgeouses! They need it….

The rascal’s almost one month old. Well, he’s 3.5 weeks. And, I STILL haven’t posted that birth story I promised. So, today’s the day. Hopefully, I won’t get interrupted by a little grunter too much while I write — it’s hard enough to concentrate on the virtually NO sleep that I’m on. Anyway, let’s give it a shot.

September 22, 2007

10pm: I’ve just STUFFED myself at the Yom Kippur breaking-of-the-fast table. I think I’ve eaten EVERYTHING in sight. I’m burping like a MAN, and my feet and hands are swollen BEYOND. “Bye mom, bye dad! Oh, wait, let me just grab one more cookie for the [3-minute] drive home! Bye everyone! Shannah Tova! Happy New Year! C’mon Monkey! Let’s go home! Burrrrp!”

Patting my tummy, I think to myself, “Thank you, little fetus, for making it through the High Holidays! You can come out now!”

September 23, 2007

5:30am: Waking up from a relatively deep sleep, I say to myself, “Oh no, I better get up. Ugh. I think I really have to pee.” I SLOWLY lift and roll my whale of a self off the bed. I slooowly stand up, and… tinkle tinkle tinkle…! Huh? Wha? Who? Water? BROKE? JOOOOOSSSSHHHHHH!! “JOSH! JOSH! WAAAAKE UP!!! My water! It broke! I’m standing here! And, I’m peeing! But, I’m not peeing! It’s just wooshing! It’s WOOSHING! Grab a towel! I can’t move! TOOOOWWWELLL!”

Calmly. I call triage. “Yup! Come on in,” they tell me.

So, I call my mom to come stay with the monkey, get my stuff together (while Josh does I-don’t-know-what around the house — something about cleaning the cupboard out? A-ny-way…), and run downstairs to announce the water-breakage on all three of my blogs. I couldn’t leave my readers in the dark when they’ve been SO SUPPORTIVE throughout the pregnancy! MWAH!

6am: Enter triage, get set up. Freak out about intravenous tubes and insist that the nurses wear latex gloves to protect themselves when they puncture the patients! Apparently, I’m only, like, 1cm dilated, so they’re sending me out for a 4-hour walk. Greaaaat.

I start putting my clothes back on and realize there’s GREEN! THERE’S GREEN STUFF in my water! Is my baby okay?

“Let me see that,” the nurse says, as she grabs my underwear from me. “Yes, there’s green,” she confirms.

“And, LOOK,” I say, “It’s on the bed, too!” Why didn’t they check this before? Isn’t this, like, a serious thing? I ask myself. “AHEM.”

“Okay! Haley-O’s staying put,” the nurse yells out, “We’ve got meconium. Wheel her into delivery and keep a close eye on the baby.”

Omigosh. Did I just save my baby?!? Thank UNIVERSE I have anxiety and, therefore, know everything that could possibly go wrong in pregnancy and labour! Otherwise, I’d be walking around with my baby possibly at risk! Anxiety can be a good thing sometimes, see…!

7am: We wait.

8am: And, we wait.

11am: Still waiting. The whole family’s here now. The parents, the in laws, the sister, brother.

12pm: “Anna” arrives to give me my epidural. Actually, his name is “Anesthesia.” Well, that’s the nickname I give him. Because when he came to the door, he said, “Hi, I’m Anesthesia!” So, I called him Anna the whole time. We are having SUCH a ball, exchanging jokes, etc.. LOVE! No, seriously!

I LOVE Anna! And, I’m ECSTATIC when he tells me he’s married because he’s SUCH a good guy — I want him to be happy.

1pm: Still, waiting for things to happen.

We interrupt this Birth Story to announce: THE MONKEY IS NOT IN HER BED. It’s 10:17pm, and she’s apparently in The Rascal’s room doing I-know-not-what. Josh-O just went upstairs and found her there. The Rascal is actually in his crib…actually sleeping…with the monkey doing I-know-not-what in his room.

2pm: Still waiting.

3pm (or something — the times here are TOTALLY guesses because LIKE I knew what time it was, but you get the picture): The OB FARREAKS out at the nurses: “WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ME! Look at that heart rate! How long has the baby’s heart rate been dipping like that!? WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ME! Do what you can to regularize it. Haley, don’t worry. It’s going to be fine. I’m right outside watching.”

Okayyyyy!

In the next few hours, nothing changes. The OB runs frantically in and out of the room: “Haley, I can’t believe how calm you are. Huff Puff. You’re amazing!”

“Ummm, is it too late to tell you I have prenatal anxiety and depression, Doctor????” I think to myself….

“What a trooper,” she continues, “Keep it up. Keep it up. We need you to stay calm…. GET HER AN OXYGEN MASK! Stay calm, Haley. You’re doing great. How do you DO IT!?”

“Well,” I say, “I’ve learned to trust my resources………ahem.”

4pm: “Okay,” says the OB, “We need to test the baby’s blood oxygen level — the cord is around the neck.”

“Oh freaking crap,” I think to myself.

“Okay, we’ve got the blood sample!” yells the OB. “Take it to the lab, NOW — RUN RUN RUN!”

4:15: “YES!” OB exclaims, as the nurse presents the results, “We’re all good, Haley. Now we need to speed up the labour and get the baby out of there STAT. We need you to push like last time: wait for that RECTAL pressure and push him out in 11 minutes — like you did with your daughter! You can do it!”

6pm: Still waiting. Praying for no C-section….

7pm: Rectal pressure has arrived! YES! Let the Olympic-caliber pushing begin!!!

7:37pm: He’s out. I pushed him out in 3 minutes! Record time! To top everything off, the little guy was posterior — facing the wrong way. But, smartie-pants that he is, he turned himself around in the nick of time. LOVE! The pushing was, of course, dramatic — in keeping with the entire birth process…. One of the nurses even jumped over my shoulder and on top of me to help with the pushing because the rascal’s shoulder was caught. But, we made it! He was super blue and in shock, but he was amazingly alert; just look how he’s gazing RIGHT at his mama!

I love this picture….

And, now look these CREEPY pics of him! LOVE!

My BIG BOY! I’m in love…clearly!

Oh, and, it’sgrandma and papa’shere bought the monkey a new coat, and she LOVES IT!

Sooo much CUTENESS!!!

That’s my story. Back to the rascal now — diapy needs ANOTHER change!

Want gossip? Check it — at CHEATY’S CELEBRITY GOSSIP!

I read your gossip column every week as emailed from the Urban Moms weekly mailer. I look forward to it every week. I am a 30 something mother of a 4 year old who has been trying to get pregnant again for the last two years. In my journey to get pregnant I have met a ton of woman along the way who have no children, and have been unsuccessfully trying for years. One thing this experience has made me realize is that we are blessed with one beautiful child and it would be really insensitive and selfish for me to complain about not having a second. Why am I saying this? I am tired of reading about how sick you are from being pregnant. Do you know how many women would love to have that problem just once in their lifetime? Many of these woman suffer in silence with their pain. I can only imagine the number of woman who read your blog and close the screen in tears after reading about how sick you are. Please think about how your comments make other women feel. I too was severely sick when I was pregnant so much so that I did not gain any weight throughout my pregnancy. I took the drugs and never complained about it. I was just so happy to be pregnant. Pregnancy is a gift. Its not a given. If you are really that sick, take the Diclectin and get over it already.

– Asquared, comment on today’s Will Ferrell post.

Dear Asquared,

I’m truly sorry that my blog has affected you in this way. And, I’m troubled that my writing about my pregnancy symptoms has struck you as insensitive and as a sign of ungratefulness.

Are you aware that I suffer from PREpartum depression? That I suffered from it in my first pregnancy, as well? Have you read those posts in which I try to bring awareness to this very painful condition? (Please see the posts in the category “Anxiety / Depression.”) Because, as extremely grateful as I am to be pregnant, pregnancy is a bigger challenge for me — both physically and emotionally — than most people can even imagine. And, as I always say, it’s all so worth it.

In the midst of this prepartum depression, from which I suffer painfully every single day, I have actually challenged myself to reflect in writing on the joys of pregnancy, and I have emphasized the fact that my complaints about my symptoms on this blog in no way relate to my gratitude. I urge you to read this post, in particular.

My kind and supportive commenters are also very right when they say (in response to your comment) that “this is my blog,” and that I should not feel the need to censor myself. Although I want to be as raw and real on BOTH blogs as I can be, I am aware that I have a responsibility — to choose my words carefully and to be as compassionate a writer and person as possible. And, I don’t take that responsibility for granted.

Of course, I don’t want anyone, as you put it, to “close the screen in tears after reading about how sick [I am]“! People are only allowed to cry with laughter from reading this blog! In any case, I do try to make light of my symptoms most of the time because, Asquared, they are DARKER than you could ever want to know. I have shielded my readers from some of the grosser realities of my daily life right now. And, now I’M crying.

Remaining light-hearted about my symptoms helps me deal with those grosser realities. It also helps other women who are going through the same thing — there are many of them out there, too. Yes, there are many pregnant women going through what I’m going through. I have received many emails thanking me for being so open about my struggle. This site has received countless hits from google searches for “pregnancy and anxiety,” “depression in pregnancy,” and the like.

You also got me thinking….There are single mothers out there. Is it insensitive of me to complain about how difficult my toddler can be when I’m privileged enough to stay home with her AND to have a husband help me raise her? I cannot please everyone. I cannot write for everyone.

No, I cannot please everyone, Asquared. All I can do is be as honest as possible — without being as dark and anxious as I could be given what I experience from the moment I wake up in the morning.

Prepartum depression, also known as antenatal depression, affects 10-15 percent of pregnant women — and perhaps more, since most women do not come forward with it. Because of my condition, no, I cannot take diclectin; it makes my symptoms of depression (i.e., panic attacks) worse. Thank you for the recommendation, though.

Seriously? I do NOT like talking about the same symptoms every single day on this blog. But, unless I close this blog down until they pass, there’s no way around it. It’s my reality (a lightened up version of my reality). And, as I said, many people relate deeply to what I’m going through.

I also don’t like to complain about my pregnancy symptoms because this SEEMS to suggest that I’m ungrateful for what I know is such a blessing, such a gift. I am CONSTANTLY reflecting on how blessed I am to be pregnant, constantly THANKING THE UNIVERSE for granting me this miraculous gift. (This is starting to feel a little too personal even for me, but….) Every night I devote time to being thankful for this pregnancy.

I have friends who are having great difficulty conceiving both first and second children. I have friends going through infertility treatments…for years — some with success and some without. I have friends trying to adopt. I am aware. I am sensitive. I am sorry. I am so sorry that you are having difficulty conceiving. So very very sorry.

I have tried to minimize discussion of my symptoms on both my blogs. One of the reasons for this is that I don’t feel like people want to hear about it — especially on the gossip blog (and, I’ve next to eliminated all discussion of myself on that blog because there’s nothing else I want to say about me). But, when I sit down to write on this, my personal blog, it’s what comes out. It’s what HAS to come out. It’s a release that you’re reading, my friend. It’s the way I help heal myself so that I can better take care of my child (my cheaty monkey who, thankfully, is too young to understand what I go through) and take care of my pregnant body and mind.

Pregnancy is very painful for me. But, it’s also an opportunity. An opportunity to release and to cleanse. This releasing and cleansing involves a disturbing and debilitating manifestation of major anxieties. This is what you’re reading on my blog. A process. An honest (but light-hearted) cleansing, releasing and preparation for another beautiful miracle.

Of course, this blog is not my only therapy. I have lots of professionals working with me, and lots of loved ones (and loved readers!) supporting me.

Thank you very much for sharing your point of view and your experience. I can’t promise I’ll stop writing about my symptoms, but know that I’m an extremely empathetic person, and I write largely because I HAVE to. Although I joke about my symptoms, they are very serious and very debilitating. But, they are worth it. Thank you for bringing to my attention, yet again, how grateful I should be even to have these symptoms — as painful as they are on so many levels.

I hope you understand a little better where I’m coming from. I certainly appreciate where you’re coming from. I wish you all the best in your efforts to conceive. And, I hope to bring you more laughter in the future — no more tears.

xo Haley-O