I’m back!
Wow, the last few months have been totally crazy for me, and I didn’t plan on taking two months off, but it sort of happened when deadlines came and went without me noticing. And let me tell you, that isn’t me.
I was pregnant. Really pregnant. Our third daughter arrived on October 21, weighing 8 lbs. 1 oz. and was 20 ½ inches long. Addy has been quite a blessing to our family already. Her big sisters just dote on her.
But this pregnancy wasn’t a time of excitement and glowing for me like how most people make pregnancy out to be. It was anything but. I wish it was just physical ailments that got me down, but it wasn’t.
Emotionally, I was an absolute wreck for this pregnancy. And it totally took me by surprise when it happened too. I had two older children andtheir pregnancies didn’t set me on edge or cause the anxiety this one did for some reason. Ok, let me rephrase that, I don’t know why in the world the older two girls’ pregnancies didn’t trigger the anxiety that the third pregnancy did.
You see, I am a statistic. I grew up in a family that grew more dysfunctional by the year. By the time I was in Jr. High and High School, my family had gotten to all forms of abuse except for physical. My years in high school were pure torture. And it was a slow descent to that point. One where I should have stood up for myself and reported it, but years of being taught that no one would believe you, that you are just over sensitive, build to the point (like a frog getting boiled). You don’t realize the damage that is being done until it is too late.
For some reason, baby three triggered the memories of what was done to me, especially the sexual aspect of it, and it caused a lot of issues for the duration of this pregnancy. I was hardly functioning at all. I couldn’t let anyone touch me. If someone did, I would start to have a panic attack. Even normal, innocent touching would set me off. The day in July when I took the girls out to eat at their favorite chicken sandwich restaurant and an employee came up behind me and touched me on the shoulder to let me know he was there before asking if I needed a refill of my tea was the breaking point. I started in on a panic attack and I had to hurry the girls up to finish eating so we could go home, where I spent the next three hours locked in my room waiting for the panic to stop so I could get the grocery shopping done for the month.
I hadn’t realized how bad I had gotten until that day. I should have, since I refused to be touched by even a medical professional or my husband. I ended up getting what is termed “late maternity care,” after searching locally for a care provider who wouldn’t be scared off with the situation. The hospital system I had used before flat out refused to accept me as a patient over it. Which, in the long run, turned out to be quite a blessing as I did get introduced to a wonderful OB/GYN who was patient and kind and didn’t force anything on me. And the birth of Addy was incredible with the other hospital system in town.
I write this to say that, statistically, no matter how alone you feel in dealing with being abused as a child, you aren’t. Depending on where you find your statistics, 1 in 3 or 1 in 4 woman have been abused sexually. And the memories of the abuse can be triggered at any time afterwards and not always by the same things.
In late summer, I finally got good maternity care, found a book written for pregnant survivors and their medical care givers (Survivor Moms by Mickey Sperlich), returned to counseling after being out for nearly a decade, and, after much struggle, accepted a prescription for a mild anti-anxiety medication for the duration of the pregnancy. It was the help I needed to get through such a horrible time in my life. A horrible time that was supposed to be full of joy and excitement. And while I wish it could have been different, it is what it is.
I’m a lot better than I was a few months ago now. I know that this is something I will always have to deal with but, with the right tools and support from my husband and others who love me, I know that, in the end, I will thrive and not be bound to the haunting from my past.
Please, if you are a survivor, know you are not alone. And please know that pregnancy can trigger memories of the abuse (even if the abuse never resulted in you getting pregnant and it isn’t always the first pregnancy to do it, for me it was my technically my fourth). Please don’t do what I did and let it get so bad that you are not able to live life in a functional way. It is ok to seek help for yourself. You can thrive and overcome the past so that it doesn’t control you.
You can’t control the past, but you are in control of your future. And remember, you are not alone in this. You are beautiful and you are brave and you can be fierce. Fiercely seek out the resources you need. You can do it!