The Worst Day

I've briefly mentioned that we had some early struggles. Abigail had a poor latch, causing some damage and resulting in our using nipple shields for six or so weeks. I also ended up having a terrible time with postpartum depression and anxiety. The icing on the cake was a horrific accident at our house when Abigail was 3.5 weeks old. 

Everything compounded and we needed rescuing. Abigail and I flew across the country when she was four weeks old and stayed with my parents for several weeks to rest and recover. I've drafted this post many many times. I keep putting it off because it's hard to face. It's time, though.

Abigail's birth was incredibly beautiful and powerful. I loved every moment of labor and delivery, as you'll remember if you read this. It was the best day of my life - bar none.

Then we went home.

Things were going well for a week or so. My parents were staying with us, Jesse's parents arrived, Abigail was incredible, and I was beginning to get my sea legs. Nursing was a challenge - we were using nipple shields after an improper latch in the hospital caused some damage. The shields were a pain in the ass - but they saved us. We ended up using them for six weeks -- but that's another post.

As the days went by, I wasn't feeling quite right. At first I thought it was the hormone dump that was occurring within my body and I tried to ride it out. My parents returned home and Jesse's parents returned home a few days later. Abigail was about two weeks old.

It's hard to describe how I was feeling and what I was thinking at that time because it doesn't seem real. What mother could possible think and feel those things? Especially after the perfect pregnancy culminating in the perfect birth experience? After wanting her so desperately for so long? After trying to get pregnant and trying to be patient month after month after month, then finally getting that positive test? After waiting and anticipating and loving every moment of every day that I was pregnant? Well - I did. I was the kind of mother who thought and felt those horrible things about her precious daughter. I felt incapable, trapped, and afraid. Every moment was constant dread. I couldn't sleep. When she slept I sat there dreading the moment she'd wake up. I begged Jesse not to leave me alone with her.

I wrote this email the day his parents left, but never sent it. I was afraid of what he would think of me:

She won't sleep

My nipples are destroyed

I don't know how to breastfeed

She won't stay swaddled

She's had more dirty diapers today than ever before

I can't get a nap or go outside

I don't want any of our friends to see me

I feel like a failure

I need help.

We were having a heat wave. We couldn't go outside, we couldn't open windows. It was over 100 degrees at our house.

I couldn't tell anyone how I was feeling but one person knew. She came and saw me and knew. I told her I wanted to call Liz and ask her to come back but I was afraid she'd say no. She told me to call. She told me I needed help.

At first Liz wasn't sure if it was a good idea. She said she'd think about it. I called back the next day crying and said I'd just buy her the ticket and she could change her mind if she wanted to. But I had to buy the ticket because otherwise the only thing that my brain was capable of thinking was, "there's no help coming." Constant dread. It was Tuesday when she told me I could buy the ticket. In one week she would be in San Diego and we would be saved. I just had to make it one week. One week.

Jesse took a half day on Wednesday, Thursday I was on my own, on Friday my friend Emi took a half day and held Abigail while I slept, Saturday Jesse was home with us. Three more days until Liz arrived.

The day was okay - I was able to sleep when Abigail slept because Jesse was in the house. The heat wave was relentless. It was supposed to only last a week and it had been more than two weeks already. We noticed a leak coming from the attic - we had central heat and air installed the previous year by a licensed contractor (one of the few things that we didn't do ourselves in the house...). It was around 10 PM - I was nursing Abigail on Jesse's side of the bed for some strange reason (we're usually next to her co-sleeper, which was on my side of the bed). Jesse had gone up into the attic to see what was going on with the A/C. Abigail and I dozed off in the bed. All of the sudden I was in hell. I heard a sudden noise and looked up. The ceiling and all of the blown-in insulation came down. I instinctively tried to cover Abigail. She was closer to the destruction. We were completely covered in insulation. It was in her eyes, nose, mouth and ears. Jesse heard the noise from the attic and jumped down - he had no idea what had happened. I screamed "TAKE THE BABY!" I handed her to him and he took her outside to try to get the insulation off her. I jumped up and ran into the other room glancing up to see a 4 foot by 7 foot section of our ceiling gone. The heavy plaster and insulation covered the floor, Abigail's bassinet, and my side of the bed. Because we were on Jesse's side of the bed the large pieces missed us. I took my clothes off and cast them aside, grabbed Abigail from Jesse when he brought her back in and began nursing her and looking her over - all the while looking up at the ceiling, waiting for it to collapse in that room, too.

Abigail had marks on her head where plaster had hit her. We called our nurse advice line and they told us to go to the ER immediately. Jesse snapped some quick photos of the damage while I put some clothes on. I was visibly shaking. What does a baby concussion look like? What if Abigail had been in her bassinet? What if we had been on my side of the bed? What were we going to do? Would insurance cover our expenses? How did this happen? My head was spinning. 

Jesse called his friend Tanner and asked if he and his fiancée would be willing to come and pick up the bulk of the mess while we were at the ER -- it was after 11 PM. They came, they spent hours cleaning up - it was a disaster.

Looking into the bedroom from the hall -- the blue thing on the left is Abigail's bassinet.

The white stuff on the bed is 1" thick plaster.
The relatively far side of the bed is insulation-free because it all landed on Abigail and I.
Her bassinet is full of plaster and insulation.

Again, looking into the room from the hall. You can see Jesse taking the photo in the mirror.
All of our clothes - even the clothes in the drawers - were covered

.This is the ceiling hole - approximately 4 feet x 7 feet. 

  

Abigail and I were cleared at the ER - she had been hit in the head but seemed to be okay. I couldn't bring myself to go back to the house so we checked into a hotel for the night. Once we got settled in Jesse went to the house to pack up our supplies - nipple shields, diapers, wipes, clothes, toiletries, nursing pillow, snacks, and on and on. We stayed there the following day while Jesse went back to the house to make it safe (the insurance company couldn't come for more than a week). He screwed plywood to the entire ceiling - just in case there were more weak spots. He bagged up all of our clothes and took them to a fluff-n-fold. Abigail was less than three and a half weeks old.

Sunday passed at the hotel. I got a late checkout and came home with Jesse. The entire house smelled like blown-in insulation. It was everywhere and nowhere. Every sound I heard made me look up in fear. I had talked to Liz on the phone a day or two before the ceiling fell down and she mentioned that maybe it would be best if she took Abigail and I back to New York so I could recover. Once the ceiling fell, it was nearly a given. We all knew it was for the best. It would give me a chance to heal and breathe and it would give Jesse time to coordinate the repair work. My sister's wedding was about a month away. It was settled that Liz would come to San Diego for a week then Abigail and I would return to NY with her. Jesse would come and join us for the wedding and, if all went well, would bring us back with him to San Diego. 

Abigail, two days after the collapse: 

New York was healing. I slowly got into a rhythm with Abigail. When I was ready, we began trying to push my boundaries each day. At first Liz was always with us. After several days she went golfing for a couple of hours so Abigail and I could be on our own. I took Abigail out of the house. We went shopping. These seem like such easy things -- but at the time it felt as though I were climbing Mount Everest without oxygen. Abigail was sleeping through the night. I was able to nap when she napped. And, after a few weeks, we weaned off the nipple shields. [That was like taking the chains off!!] I wasn't back to normal, but I was on my way. Jesse flew in for my sister's wedding and brought me back to a [nearly] finished house.

I knew I was predisposed to postpartum depression but I didn't believe it would happen. I thought that I was immune because of my amazing pregnancy and birth. In a matter of days I went from the highest high of my life to my lowest low. The awful thing was that I didn't realize that I was in it. I didn't know that I had PPD and PPA - it took someone telling me that I did for it to dawn on me and say, "of course." Giving it a name gave me an enemy to defeat. Once I had that I was on my way to clawing out of it. I was lucky - I didn't have to go on any medications - but I would have without a second thought if I got back to where I had been. Sometimes, even six months later, the dread comes back. It's usually fleeting and I'm able to acknowledge it and let it go. 

I don't know what would have happened if it weren't for Liz saving us. And I don't know if we would have gone back to NY had the ceiling not collapsed. It was the worst day of my life. But it marked the beginning of my healing. It snapped me back to reality and served as a terrifying reminder that I have one job now. 

I'm here to protect and raise Abigail. And I can't do that unless I'm whole.