The beginning of the end of my sanity (or so it feels that way). We got pregnant about a year ago. It was actually Halloween when I felt my first symptoms. I wanted to throw up from the smell of the boys carving pumpkins. I knew right then I was pregnant. We didn’t officially find out for another week, after an entire weekend of me throwing up non-stop.
I had a high-risk pregnancy. I had 2 prior pre-term babies. I had hyperemesis, anyone that has kids knows “hyper” anything is just bad news. I was also 35…the magic number that says you are way to fucking old to be having another baby. Then came the placenta previa.
There were so many doctor’s appointments and ultrasounds and tests. It didn’t help that I had, what felt like, the worst clinic ever. At 18 weeks they told me if I went in to labor, they would let me lose the baby, that he wasn’t viable, so they wouldn’t attempt to stop labor. They seemed so cold and unconcerned about my health and our baby’s well being. I left every appointment in tears.
Did you know that high risk pregnancies are a risk factor for Postpartum depression/anxiety?
So, that was the beginning to the end…