I Wish I Knew: What Nobody Tells You About Prenatal Depression.

These days I am taking life one step at a time. I seem to be more familiar with anxiety and a lot of fear as of late. Sometimes it feels as if the isolation is drowning out so much it is hard to tell what is reality and what is the result of the hormones surging inside of me. I feel inadequate and like a complete failure a lot of the time. Instead of feeling feminine and glowing, I feel the extra weight I carried before pregnancy pushing its way out in places too visible for my own comfort. As a result I look further along than I am and people tell me I am huge. I feel self conscious about that. I am tired and winded with each step up my stairs. I am told often that it will only get harder the bigger I get. A claustrophobic's worst fear. I read people's birth and postpartum stories and I squirm in my seat, dreading what is to come with all of my being. I don't recognize myself, my body, my spirit. I wish someone had told me how hard pregnancy was. How motherhood starts from the minute that the second line appears. Despite the tiny heart beating just inches away from my own I feel incredibly alone. Scared and sad.... and so very guilty for feeling so. very. sad.

Last week, I was out with Chris running errands and the entire time I held back tears. A blank stare on my face and this hollow, soulless feeling lurking inside. When we got home, he climbed the stairs to his office and I stood in our kitchen and cried. No... I sobbed. Partially relieved to let it out but mostly devastated that I feel so alone and empty even around the ones that I love so much.

Right now I am battling a horrible case of Influenza A H1N1 coupled with a nasty rhinovirus. When we were driving into the ER last night I saw my life slowly spiraling away. My lungs tightening up and the wheezing growing so loud it almost drowned out the pounding of my rapidly beating heart. I panicked, gripping the seat belt... trying to will myself to breathe. "Just breathe. You are okay. Just breathe, Andi" I said out loud. I pictured myself collapsing and being intubated in the waiting room of the ER, ending up on a ventilator for weeks. Oddly enough, being in the hospital was incredibly comforting, heading home afterwards was again horrifying. During discharge my heart rate shot up to the 120's and they had to double check that I didn't need more fluid before leaving. The anxiety is slowly taking over and it is debilitating and depressing. 

The saddest part about struggling with prenatal depression is this tension between the life that is forming inside of you and the deep despair you feel about the whole process.  I have never loved anyone or anything so much in my entire life. The moment I knew this life was growing inside of me was a moment I will never forget. It was euphoric and terrifying and life changing. There are moments where I feel those flutters and I can't help but think that I am the luckiest woman in the world to have my son moving inside of me. To be his mother. To love that deeply... seeing those little hands waving across the screen and little feet curled up so small and yet so defined. To hear that quick heartbeat so loud and so strong, growing every day. It brings tears to my eyes... good tears. Tears of deep gratitude and awe, filled with a desire to be better than I have ever been... all for this sweet baby boy who is already redefining my entire existence. Yesterday, in the hospital I was telling Chris how scared I was that our little boy would be harmed by my virus. He told me, "He is in the eye of the storm, babe. He is just fine." What truth. Sure enough, there he was on the ultrasound swimmin' around like a champ. His heart rate truckin' along at his usual 150 beats a minute. He is my peace. My joy in all of this. My eye in the midst of the storm. My sweet Bentley.

I find myself crying out in prayer every day... begging God to make me worthy of this responsibility... of this gift. Praying that I would be enough for my child. That I could give him everything and love him in all the ways he deserves. To be strong enough to overcome my own crap and to believe in myself enough... to trust that in the midst of my mess I could be a good mom... the best mom for my precious boy.

I wish someone had told me that being pregnant isn't always joyous and wonderful and filled with that glittery glow I expected to have. Maybe they did... but I didn't hear it or understand it the way that I do now. People say rude things and your body is unkind to you and yet that same body is miraculously creating another human being all in one breath. Everything is foreign and feels scarily out of control. Pregnancy is hard. Motherhood is hard... even at this stage it is so challenging. I know I will be okay... but I really wish I was better prepared for this... that this is what making a baby turns out to be for some.

Miraculous. Frightening. Life-changing. Sad. Hard. Undoubtedly worth it... but still so very hard.

To my sweet June Bug.

We recently discovered the most wonderful news about our munchkin. Come June 2014, we will be welcoming a sweet baby boy into the Heggem household!

He waves hello to you all!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and holiday season!

Here is to a healthy, hopeful, joyous, and safe New Year.

Happy 2014 Friends!

Life Lately

I think I am allergic to my Christmas tree. Either that or I have a yucky on the verge of becoming a horrible cold that just refuses to go away. Seriously... my nose is raw from blowing it so much. It's 1:30am right now and my husband is happily talking in his sleep while I've been desperately hoping my benadryl will kick in so I can go back to bed. On a happy note my tree is real for the first time in years and it smells wonderful and looks so happy! I even got to decorate my very own Starbucks ornament this year! My whole tree is covered with the many Starbucks ornaments I have collected over the years. Literally, I have enough to cover almost my whole tree.

This month has been interesting. Right now I am in my 15th week of pregnancy (yay for the second trimester!) and I am starting to feel huge already. It hasn't helped that people have literally told me that very thing, "You're huge! You aren't that far along. By the end you're gonna be huge!" No joke someone said that to me on Thanksgiving.     >__<     I don't know what it is about being pregnant but seriously everyone seems to think that you are like an open door to being touched or commented on... appropriate or not people will give you their opinion freely and most of the time it is with very little tact... if any at all.

This was me on Thanksgiving. Baby is definitely popping out and I guess considering that I'm barely 5'1" I don't really have anywhere to grow but out. Last week we got to do our nuchal translucency ultrasound which was so fun. Baby was probably sleeping because he/she wouldn't stretch out for us or move... except for one time when the tech was really pressing on my belly so baby got annoyed and turned his/her back to us. The fun thing was that we got a great wave during that moment. 

How cute is that?! Seriously I'm obsessed with my little June bug already. Sometimes when I stop and think about it I am in awe. I have a HUMAN growing inside of me. I'm a real life babushka doll!

The past two weeks or so have been nice because the morning sickness and throwing up has subsided. At this point I'm only puking a few times a week.... I'll take it... as compared to throwing up literally multiple times a day, every day. Also for a while I had to be on a liquid diet because all I could tolerate were foods like soup, yogurt, jello, pudding.... seriously if I never have to eat another pudding snack in my lifetime I'll be fine. 

What else? Work... oh yeah, work. Hmm a lot to say on that front but also not the energy to say it. I also feel like work needs its own post... or many. Either way I'm on vacation until Monday so I'm trying to not think about it and just enjoy the time off I have. Getting ready for Christmas is always an endeavor in this family. I spent the entire day wrapping presents yesterday!

Happy Holidays friends! I hope you are all well and joyful this season. :)

Veteran's Day

Last week I had a patient who was in the air force and was deployed to Vietnam during the war. He couldn't sleep that night in the hospital so we sat and talked for hours about life and the military and his experience overseas. He told me a story of a day when he wasn't feeling well and had to skip on a mission with the six guys he had been with the entire time he was in Vietnam. He was older when he went into the war and so he kind of took these guys under his wings over there. He loved 'em like family he said and when he woke up the next morning he discovered that the plane had crashed and every single one of them had been killed. To this day he wakes up with nightmares or dreams about them and he told me that every day he lives with guilt for not being with them on that plane. 

Today, I met up with a girl I happened to meet on a "what to expect" forum where expectant moms meet up online to share due dates and pregnancy joys and woes along this crazy journey. She happened to mention that she lived in my town and had just moved here cause her husband was stationed here with the navy for the next few years. We exchanged info and we had coffee today and walked around downtown. Her husband is currently gone for six weeks and she told me about all the moves they've had to make and the times he was gone for six months twice. How she is away from family and the support system she had built in their last base. I can't imagine. Sometimes we forget that the families of our soldiers have sacrificed so much too.

Life at the VA has been hard for me these past few years and I've actually been on the hunt for another job. Deciding whether I should leave or not has kept me up at night and has been the source of so much stress for me lately. I'm under appreciated and under paid where I work... my job is always exhausting and hard. The moments where I feel like I actually get to connect with these guys is rare and if I am really honest I feel like a lot of the work I do in the ICU is futile... often times these guys wait so long to get help that the chances of getting better are truly bleak. It's disheartening to say the least. 

Still, there is this place deep in me that continues to tug at my heart strings. I was telling my FIL yesterday about a new job opportunity and asking for advice on what to do. When I was explaining to him why I had always loved the VA I felt that familiar lump in my throat start to well up. What our soldiers do is incredibly difficult and what we offer is so very special. A place to be understood. A place where you can share about your time in Vietnam... and an ear to listen from someone who really knows just how PTSD impacts the lives of our service men and women. Some of these guys (and gals) haven't shared some of these stories with their own family even... and yet here I am at 2am hearing the heart of a man so burdened with guilt and sorrow over the loss he experienced decades ago. It is special indeed and I feel so very honored to be the recipient of that kind of trust... and a vessel for healing not only physically but emotionally too. 

I don't know where I will end up in the future but for now I want to thank you. Those of you who have given so much of yourself and the families who have sacrificed just the same. Thank you for being brave for us. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve you. If you know a veteran please thank them today... or tomorrow... or the day after that. Their sacrifice never really ends and I hope that our thanks never does as well. 

Happy Veteran's Day

Hope

When I was a little girl I very distinctly remember that I loved playing with baby dolls. Up until maybe even 11 or 12 years old I have those memories of cradling and feeding and changing the little dolls that would creepily close their eyes when you laid them flat. What is even more amusing is knowing that the thought of actually being a mother or actually having children of my own someday never even occurred to me.  I never wanted to be a mother. I never had that picture in my mind of what my children might look like or be like. I never longed for the day I would be able to hold my child for the first time. Witness the first breath, first words, first step. I also never really knew why. The sacrifice just seemed so great and the desire so small.

It wasn't until recently when I was hovering over a pregnancy test desperately praying for it to be negative that I even began to think of the real possibility of having children. It was such a fearful feeling... that sense that a train is headed at you while your car is stuck on the tracks. Knowing that if I were to have a child... things really would be okay... but they would not be at all what I expected. Not at all what I had wanted or even hoped for.

And then... only one blue line appeared... and suddenly I felt this overwhelming sorrow... a sense of loss so great it brought me to tears. Indeed the train had hit, but the impact was much different than I expected. Motherhood was now something I very much wanted and the desire terrified and confused me. I didn't know what to do with it all. This strong sense that I was not ready to be a mom... that the timing was not right.... but the overwhelming wish that I could be.

Over time there was this deep searching that took place. Discovering the root of those intense fears I had about one day raising a little person. Everyone I spoke with would tell me, "Oh don't worry you won't be like your mom"  and I got it... I understood why they would say that.

But it didn't help... the fears only grew and began filling every space left unattended in my thoughts. It wasn't until I spent the day with my mom that it dawned on me just what it was.  We were talking about something as mundane as personality tests. I mentioned myers briggs and how much I loved that one... how it had helped me figure myself out. When instantly I was met with such strong resistance. Proclamations about how worthless that one was compared to my mom's favorite numerology system. And it only continued from there... bikram yoga is better than ashtanga... running isn't good for me... etc.

Every single thing I did had a flaw... something that needed to be corrected or trumped and when I made it home that evening I felt completely deflated... emotionally exhausted from the battle it was to just simply exist with my mother. It dawned on me that day that my fears about becoming a mother had nothing to do with being afraid of being like my mother... I was afraid of becoming the person that she always made me feel that I was.

A failure.... stupid... worthless... not good enough... a burden...

These are the words that have spun in my mind for so long and despite the nice birthday cards and the backhanded compliments I never really got over it. I never really believed that what my mother said... how she made me feel was completely invalid. That maybe her words and her actions were more about her and where she is in life than about me and my value. Maybe... just maybe... my fears about being a mother were rooted in completely unfounded proclamations... and not in the ability I have to love and raise another human being. That maybe the deep, deep desire I had for my mother to tell me, "YES, you can do this!" wasn't going to come but that it would still be okay.

And maybe... just maybe... someday I can have the ability... the chance to raise a little person. To love them and protect them in the ways that I wasn't... and in the ways that I was. To give this longing in my heart a voice. To believe in my worth and teach my children their worth too. And at the very least... to know that I am not living out of fear but out of hope instead.

The road so far has been incredibly bumpy and the sacrifices are much greater than I expected. Even at this stage of the journey there has been so much emotional, physical, and mental tenacity required. I have had to be more brave now than I think I ever have and I feel this shift inside of my being. This raw fierceness of protection and love and fear.... and yes, most definitely hope. Knowing that from here on out my life will never be the same... but that it will most definitely be richer and fuller because of it. And despite being terrified still every day that I might not be able to protect enough or love enough, I at least know that I am brave enough to take that first step. And soon... it will all be worth it.

I love you my little munchkin. I'm so excited to be your mama :)

The Letter

The other day I was cleaning out the boxes in my office closet that had been with me since I was 15 years old. Years of moving, transferred from house to house and box to box. I had over a decade worth of letters and cards that had chronicled my life through the eyes of those around me. As I sifted through and tossed the generic "Happy Birthday! Love, Aunt Sue" cards into the trash I came across an open envelope. 

It had unfamiliar writing all over it and it wasn't a letter I had remembered even owning let alone reading. It was from my dad and it was addressed from jail, dated in 1991... I was 6 years old.  There was this moment as I opened the letter where everything else went blank. Almost as if I forgot what I had been doing up until that second. The wind had left my lungs and I felt that clenching in my chest. I slowly sat down on the floor and began reading the words on the pages. The apologies and the desperate pleas to not be afraid. The six places he told me I love you and the three where he said not be afraid. I counted each one... soaking it in just as desperately as he had written the words.  The few memories I had were all there... even the swans he had taught me to draw as a little girl. 

 There I was.... just a few days before my 29th birthday as I sat on the floor of my office, sobbing over the words. Tear drops staining the page, blurring the ink into incomprehensible puddles. The questions that had always been in the deepest parts of my being were right there in a box, on a shelf... in my office... all along. Did my dad love me... or more poignantly 

Am I lovable?

Most of my life has been lived with the desperate desire to be captivating, pursued and longed for. A hope that one day the void of not having my father's love would be filled. The wound of being abandoned somehow healed over. It never ceases to amaze me just how much that father wound has managed to impact every part of my identity. Just when I think I have overcome the breath of it... there it is. I know I have come so far and I know I am not alone in this struggle. It doesn't take a broken home to struggle with issues of worth but a broken home and an abusive father only magnifies the hurt. 

“We desire to possess a beauty that is worth pursuing, worth fighting for, a beauty that is core to who we truly are. We want beauty that can be seen; beauty that can be felt; beauty that affects others; a beauty all our own to unveil.” 
― Stasi Eldredge, Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul

So today, I am reflecting on that desire, that hurt, that loss, that wound. I am praying that somehow it will heal enough to not sting so much. I am praying for the strength to believe in my own worth... and I mourn the ways in which I have not loved myself enough. 

And maybe along the way... in sharing the journey... others can be healed too. 

Life Lately in Photos

yummy smoothies :)

First time my hand was free from the cast after surgery!

Crocheted blanket for the little bundle of love below

love her 

Trip to a cabin in the Sierra's with my favorite people and husband

 Capitola

My favorite beach with my awesome sister in law

 A trip down memory lane... I was a funny kid

 Best Birthday Breakfast ever

Best Birthday Cupcakes ever