Trigger Warning: Postpartum anxiety & infant death
After Jade was born, I developed postpartum anxiety, which I did not have a word for until over a year later. Every night I put her to bed, I wondered if I would ever see her alive again. I would check on her before I went to sleep and confirm that she was still breathing, always holding my own breath in case this was the night that my fears would come true. It was torture, which I endured alone because (I thought) people don’t talk about things like this.
Throughout the first year of Jade’s life, I became connected with many wonderful resources for new parents with babies with Down syndrome. One of my most valued resources was a group of women who I was connected to through a DSDN Facebook group. I had never really been in a “support group,” but I immediately felt like these women were wonderfully close friends.
When Jade was 11 months old, I went to a DSDN retreat for moms of kids with Down syndrome under the age of four. That retreat was absolutely wonderful. I connected with so many of the women in the Facebook group who were walking a similar path to mine. We laughed so much that weekend, and cried a lot, too. So many feelings that I had not previously allowed myself to feel bubbled to the surface, unwilling to let me suppress them any longer. As much as I absolutely loved my time with my Down syndrome tribe, I left with so many questions about my own feelings and thoughts. A few weeks later, I told Peter that I thought I should go to therapy because I didn’t think some of my thoughts and feelings were “normal.” He listened and supported me, but I didn’t put any more effort into finding a therapist.
Within my DSDN tribe, we share everything about our journeys with Down syndrome– our ups, downs, good days, bad days, fears, tears, joys, achievements, “not yet”s, worries, prayers, and losses. I loved these women and I still do today. If I could go back and do it all over, I would once again read each of their stories and stay as connected as I possibly could. But, in a community of hundreds of babies with Down syndrome, there are heartbreaking stories and deaths. There were so many stories of trouble breathing, terrifying viruses, and infant heart surgeries. There were babies who died and my heart shattered each time. It is a loss that I cannot comprehend.
When a baby died, our community would rally around that family as much as we could from each of our own tiny blips on the map. We are spread all around the United States and the world, but we tried to show each mama how much we loved her. “You’ve got this and we’ve got you” is DSDN’s saying. We tried, but there is only so much you can do when a family is experiencing the unimaginable.
With each loss, my silent fears multiplied. I was scared to put Jade down for a nap and would apprehensively check on her often. On mornings she slept in, I would wake up and slowly get ready for the day, telling myself that this was likely my last few minutes of happiness because when I went into her room, she would be dead. It was horrible and lonely, but to me, these feelings and fears were SO real.
One night, Lysee woke up around 2 am from a bad dream and came into our room. After I put her back to bed, I instinctively checked on Jade. I put my finger under her nose and didn’t feel anything. My anxiety rose. I put my hand on her back to see if I felt movement. I didn’t. More anxiety. I whispered “Jade… Jade!” Nothing. My body filled with fear and adrenaline. “Please don’t let this be real, God. Please don’t let this be real,” I prayed. I shook her gently and her body moved under my hand like a rag doll. I lost it. I yelled for Peter and he ran in. I think he could hear the urgency and fear in my voice. “What?! What happened?” I couldn’t say the words. All I said was “I don’t know! I don’t know!” And gestured to Jade.
“Jade!” He said loudly, and shook her little body. She sighed and squirmed.
I crumbled.
I fell to my knees and started sobbing. “She’s okay, Heath… she’s okay.” I think I was in shock. My anxiety told me that my fears had come true and I really believed it. “Do you want to hold her?” He asked. I nodded. He picked up a very sleepy and confused Jadey out of her crib and handed her to me, still on the floor, on my knees. I held her and rocked back and forth, thanking God for answered prayers and trying to calm my body from the overwhelming and completely unnecessary panic coursing through it.
The next morning, Peter brought up therapy again. “I think you need to talk to someone.” It was all he needed to say. I found a wonderful therapist, and at my first appointment, she put a name to what I was feeling.
“Postpartum Anxiety”
I had never heard those two words used together before, but the past year finally made so much sense.
Postpartum anxiety is different than postpartum depression, but like postpartum depression, it is not uncommon. I am sharing my story today because I think it is important for all women to know that they are not alone in their feelings, thoughts, or fears. No matter how terrifying or “weird” or “crazy” your thoughts feel, don’t suffer them alone. I can tell you from experience that simply talking about them to someone who will truly listen makes a world of different. More likely than not, you are not alone in whatever you are thinking or feeling.
Postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression are REAL and no one should ever feel ashamed talking about them or seeking help. Ever.
For anyone who needs to see this today, I am here to listen with an open heart and zero judgment. ❤️
Star-Eyed Girl 