Keep that doctor away!

It’s more than white coat syndrome… I’m a fucking mess when I have to go to the doctor ever since Taylor’s delivery.

When I met Russ, he had Logan, and then we had Mason… and in planning our family, we knew Taylor would be our last child. I was so sentimental throughout my pregnancy with her, trying to engrave the feeling of her little kicks in my memory, knowing I would never feel that again.

Then came her birth, or the black hole of her birth. I have no good memories, only bad. I was terrified and panicked and alone. I never heard her cry. She was born alone. And I don’t remember meeting or holding her for the first time. I look at that two ways:

First, I’m sad that I’ll never experience another birth. I’ve heard people talk about a “healing birth” after a traumatic one. I want a re-do. But I can’t redo HER birth, and for this mama, there will be no do overs at all. I don’t know if a “healing birth” even exists… I still think I would have the same bundle of emotions and regret about TAYLOR’S birth. It’s something I can never have.

But second, I’m GLAD she was our last child, because I cannot imagine another pregnancy and BIRTH again. I would be an anxious disaster the entire pregnancy. I have a hard enough time going to ANY doctor for ANYTHING now, forget about for prenatal appointments and an eventual birth. I read a quote recently, shared by @hellomytribe “Having another child would have been catastrophic for me. I’m so thankful that my son now has a healthy, happy, thriving mother instead.” This quote touched my heart because I honestly believe it. I am strong, but I do not think my mental health could handle this whole ride again.

My nightmare birth (you know those crazy pregnancy dreams)… was me alone in our bathtub pushing her out while Russ raced home from work, or in the back of our local volunteer ambulance. But that became my dream. I started wishing I just stayed home and pushed her out in my bathtub alone. I would have missed all the interventions that ruined my beautiful baby’s entrance into this world. (She was breech… so I wouldn’t have actually stayed home and pushed her out in my bathtub lol) I had NEVER thought about a home birth. I’m a nurse… medically trained and minded… and I never feared medical interventions before this.

But now a visit to ANY doctor provokes a completely physical and very sweaty response, along with a few ugly cries.

When I realized I needed help, I couldn’t even get through my conversation with (a brand new lol) PCP because I was ugly crying so hard. I had an ear infection in between my last OB appointment and my first therapy appointment. The OB had prescribed me a medication for anxiety that was making me puke… I was so nauseous all the time that I actually feared I was pregnant again. My PCP had recently moved groups… so I called the office and set up a “quick” appointment for my ear with a different doctor. He was really nice and had recently had a baby, too… he starts talking to me, all smiles, about new baby stuff… and I just started crying. I said “That’s the other thing that’s going on… I’m not okay.” I told him about her delivery, how the medication that my OB had prescribed was making me puke, and how I had an appointment to see a therapist but didn’t know how I was going to manage until that day came. He was real quick to throw me some Xanax… and I needed it!

Going to therapy was stressful too, at first, knowing I was going to have to talk about it. But it became kind of freeing. My therapist & APRN became the two medical professionals I actually felt comfortable seeing.

I really have no medical history besides this, so it seems to come up at any type of appointment.. whether it be PCP, the ortho/spine I saw when the paresthesia down my leg never went away, the doctor who did the nerve conduction study… everyone has been really supportive and understanding when I do tell my story, but just the fact that I have to tell it stresses me out enough to avoid doctors at all cost. Maybe TMI, but I actually have a pretty big lipoma on my hip that I want to have taken off, but I think it’ll require anesthesia, so I wont do it. I wont even go to see someone as a consult. Its just not going to happen. The day I actually need surgery, (hopefully never, but realistically.. eventually) they’re going to have to throw K-darts at me in the parking garage and drag me inside lol.

When my birth control ran out a month ago, I needed to make an appointment. I could have gone back to my PCP, but I had started this blog and was starting to feel pretty strong. I decided there was one doctor at my OB/GYN who I did want to talk to, to vent to about the whole thing. To share how unsupported I felt… during and after her birth. I don’t want to talk to the OB who delivered her (although I have to talk to her at work sometimes, but she has no idea she ever took care of me… cool… lol) So, I made the appointment with the doctor who I trust the most, the one who actually delivered Mason. I panicked for days leading up to the appointment. I cried and sweat and gagged on the drive there.

He walked into the room and said “Hi, how is everything?” and I just started to cry. He said “I know, I read your chart”… and the look of empathy told me he cared. I vented and cried and it actually felt good. I felt heard. I don’t know that I’ll ever go back again, but I’m glad I made myself do it.