Erica on being afraid to be left alone to take care of her baby

 I went in to my 36 week appointment and didn’t leave the hospital until four days later. I was severely pre-eclamptic, suffering from low platelets, and had little to no reflexes. My doctor had no choice but to admit me.

As soon as they admitted me, the nurses had to start magnesium to keep my blood pressure down. I was cathed, told not to get out of bed and my unborn baby was being constantly monitored. Tuesday evening they started the induction process.

Wednesday very early in the morning my water broke on its own, and I was convinced we were moving right along. Along came the epidural and before I knew it the time had come to start pushing. I pushed and pushed with no progress. 1 hour turned to 2 hours, 2 hours turned to 3.

Related: Postpartum anxiety may be invisible to you- but it’s very real to me

At 3.5 hours the doctor told me I needed to try a couple more times with a hard push. If we couldn’t get him out, we would have to do a C-section. My angel of a nurse found a blanket, tied a knot on each end, and told me we were going to play tug of war. Finally, Wednesday evening at 7:15, my son entered this world.

As soon as I had him, the NICU team had to take him away. The magnesium I was on crossed the placenta which made my son groggy and unable to eat. 

Hours later I still hadn’t seen my son. At 4 am that morning, I told my nurse I didn’t feel like a real mom because I hadn’t seen my baby. A couple minutes later she walked into my room with a wheelchair and wheeled me to the NICU. 

Related: Bringing baby home from the NICU? A NICU nurse shares what you need to know

After being released, our 4-day old little baby had to be admitted to the hospital for jaundice. I know jaundice is not the worst, but seeing my very first child lie in a bed under lights screaming and not being able to comfort him broke my heart. I would lock myself in the bathroom so I could cry in private.

Once we were settled in at home I had help from my husband for two weeks then my mom took over for the next two. The night before they both had to go to work, I sat on the couch holding Joel, telling them they couldn’t leave me alone with him. What if I hurt him? What if I couldn’t keep him happy? What if I didn’t know what to do?

After that evening things got worse. I stopped eating. I cried. I had a constant pit of anxiety that sat in my stomach. The only time it would go away was when I was asleep. I remember my mom telling me there was “no life” in my eyes anymore. 

Related: Are you ever ‘ready’ to have a baby?

One evening I sat on my living room floor begging my mom and husband to tell me it would be OK, to tell me I would be OK, that this would go away. That was the evening I ended up in the ER begging someone to help me. I had a severe UTI. The (male) doctor in the ER asked me why I was no longer breastfeeding. He said my son was only 5 weeks old and it would be better for him if I could continue. Unfortunately, the ER could not help me unless I wanted to admit myself to the psych floor which meant I would have no contact with my newborn.

The ER was able to get me in to a counseling center the very next day. My second therapy session she looked at me and said, “You do not feel like you are capable of successfully caring for your child. As soon as you had him, the NICU team took him away. Once you got home, he had to be admitted for another problem you couldn’t help him with. You don’t realize that you are taking the best care of him by getting the help he needs.”

It clicked. Automatically. I went home and told my Dad that he didn’t have to stay that afternoon. I felt confident enough to be alone with my baby.