Where's my cloud nine?!

As I mentioned earlier, I am suffering from PCOS. This translates into an irregular menstruation cycle, which makes it difficult to determine ovulation or in some cases, ovulation does not occur at all. 

“My cycles are now quite long at a time.” “Will my menstruation cease simply because I am so concerned with it?” I was feeling emotional, even though I had been feeling quite strong of late.

“Should I take a pregnancy test after all?” Just to give myself peace of mind, to confirm that I have a long cycle.

Indeed, duh!  I obviously don’t need to explain how a woman conceives a baby. But I truly didn’t see this coming.

I had taken the test that very morning. And wham bam – two thick stripes! I screamed in joy and ran to the bedroom, where Roy was still asleep. Sure it was 6 o’clock in the morning and both of us were free that day. “I am pregnant, Roy!” Roy was just as incredulous as I was. We enjoyed this special moment and then started our day. I called the hospital that afternoon (where I had still been for an examination in the previous week) to tell them that I had a done a positive test. I also called the obstetrician, and all the wheels were set in motion.

On the same day, we decided to tell our parents. Roy and I were on the same page in this regard: it was still early days, but if anything would go wrong, we wanted to be able to share that pain with them as well. What a joy it is to be able to share such news, especially if you are both incredibly close to your parents and in-laws. The word was out, and we were overjoyed about it!

The days went by, and I noticed myself withdrawing more and more into my shell. I no longer felt “happy” and was increasingly beset by anxiety. I discussed this with Roy. I can talk to him about anything and anyway, he tries to understand me even though that is sometimes quite a challenge. Things seemed to be going okay until one particular morning when Roy left for work, and I panicked completely. I am familiar with panic attacks, but where was this one coming from right now? I should be overjoyed, and I haven’t even had my first ultrasound yet. I do have symptoms, but they are easy to treat. The panic, I’m experiencing makes me vomit. I called Roy to tell him that I couldn’t handle it anymore. “If it’s going to be this way, I don’t want any of it.” Roy calmed me down over the phone as best he could and decided to call my parents. Thank God they were on our doorstep within 10 minutes and helped me through that terrible day. 

I am an open book, and no matter how difficult, I try to share with the people closest to me what is going on inside me. Fortunately, I received a lot of support from my loved ones. Going to work has become very difficult for me. How am I supposed to care for vulnerable older people if I can’t even take care of myself? Panic attacks come and go, and the pregnancy often leaves me light-headed and weak on my legs. Because my mind was working against me and the panic attacks continued, I decided to inform my team coach as a first step to start working on myself. The company doctor was called in and I felt very well looked after.

A lot of women look forward to the ultrasounds. Not me. It didn’t mean anything to me. Due to the rising panic attacks I experienced during pregnancy, I began developing adverse feelings about my baby. The moment I realized this, I decided after a few days to ask the obstetrician to refer me back to the POP polyclinic (for psychological support). Even before I had my first ultrasound, I already told people that I did not feel okay at all. 

The days felt like I was on survival mode. My head was spinning in overdrive, I lost weight, and yet my belly became more and more pronounced. I was ashamed to succumb to so much panic and fear. I was filled with negative thoughts. The situation deteriorated to such an extent that I even hoped for a miscarriage to help me find my way back to myself.

I got the help I needed and was soon able to go to the POP polyclinic, where discussions with the physicians quickly made it clear that I was suffering from prenatal depression. About 14 weeks into my pregnancy, I went to the POP polyclinic. I insisted that I didn’t want to take anti-depressants anymore. I joined group of women, who were experiencing the same feelings as I did. I also took part in a weekly CBT group. CBT means Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy; this is a group with one or two psychologists and people who are also suffering from anxiety and/or depression disorders. That’s where I learned to cope with my fears.

I hardly slept at all. In the evenings, I would go to bed exhausted, fall asleep for a short while, then wake up again after 1.5 hours of sleep. My head was running on overtime. I came up with all sorts of different scenarios in which I couldn’t bond with my baby. I slept poorly throughout the entire pregnancy. Sometimes I would give myself some rest and take Oxazepam to get some sleep.

More than anything, I was deeply saddened because of the guilt I felt vis-à-vise Roy for the way I felt about our baby.

Whenever we had an argument, it felt extremely intense to me. I leaned so much on Roy during my pregnancy that even during an argument, I was immediately afraid that Roy would leave me. It was such a tense feeling that I once even thought about ending my life. Fortunately, that remained an abstract thought.

I wrote down my feelings and fears in a notebook.t. Looking back at my notes now, I can’t stop crying because somehow, I can still sense a little bit how I felt during my pregnancy.

I really wanted to do whatever it took to make the most of my pregnancy – like a gender reveal party, which was one of the things I’d always wanted to do. It cost me a lot of energy, but I’m so happy that we managed to do that event. I also have loads and loads of photos from my entire pregnancy. I love photos and just knew that I would regret not taking them. I also had a lovely baby shower. Fortunately, there were those moments which I could wholeheartedly enjoy.

During the pregnancy, I told my obstetrician that I was extremely concerned about the idea that the birth might have to be artificially induced. Studies show that women are at an increased risk of postpartum depression when their delivery is artificially induced. Prenatal depression also increases the chance of postpartum depression, so in my head I was exposed to a double jeopardy. No way was I going to allow myself to wallow in postpartum depression. As if I had any say in that, but such was my mindset at the time.

My pregnancy has now come full term and I have been striped three times, from 39+6 to 40. Three times turned out to be my lucky charm, because I had already been having mock labor contractions since week 37, but then eventually the final countdown started.

At exactly 41 weeks, our beautiful son Shane was born on November 11, 2023. I ultimately had a very pleasant home birth for which I am extremely grateful. Shane was born within 5.5 hours after my active contractions set in.

When I finally held Shane in my own arms with the help of the obstetrician, I was immediately overwhelmed by relief. Naturally, because I had just given birth, but the moment I saw my son for the first time, it felt so good. The anxiety I had been feeling vanished into thin air. I was no longer afraid of negative feelings for my baby because I was immediately sold when I saw Shane. Day by day, my love for him grew.

I always had certain expectations of being pregnant. That was wrong, because no two pregnancies are the same. Partly due to social media, I had a completely different view of being pregnant.

Because I worked so hard on myself during my pregnancy and because of the good help I received, I feel good. Shane is now 7 months old, and I feel a little more like myself every month. I enjoy Shane far more than I ever dreamed possible.

I want to tell every woman that it’s okay if you don’t feel great during or after your pregnancy. That is quite normal. If these feelings are driving you down too hard, remember that you are not alone. However, try to seek help in a timely manner, no matter how difficult. Partly by seeking help, I was able to prevent succumbing to postpartum depression.

By sharing my story, I hope that more women hear about prenatal depression and help me break down the taboo surrounding it.