That’s a title and a half isn’t it? I haven’t even finished writing Ada’s birth story. I’ve gotten to the bit where she’s taken away. The fact that I seem to be avoiding writing what comes next is very telling.
Anxiety is not a new thing in my life. I’ve had anxiety for most of my life (which is understandable given the trauma I went through at various points in my life) but this is a different animal with a new symptom. I basically feel like an elephant is sat on my chest/neck for most of the day. Heart palpitations that bring on tears when particularly bad. Even without the palpitations, my eyes leak if my thoughts take me anywhere. For example I was cuddling with Ethan on our first day back and I said “I missed you when I was away” normally that would’ve been it, instead I just started crying. I could be sat watching tv, I think about the fact that the first time I saw my daughter was via a Polaroid photo - I start crying. I also just don’t want her away from me like ever. Saying goodnight is enough to send me over. It’s exhausting and I would like it to stop.
But we’re still living in weird circumstances and life is so wonky right now. Trying to navigate postpartum bullshit with Covid is a Herculean task.
I might actually contact my therapist just so I’m being active about sorting myself out. I know I’m going to be processing birth for a while and processing the consequences of having Ada early for a while but I also know that I will be ok once more. It just takes time.