Birth Trauma & How it can lead to ppmd
Post traumatic Growth….
A term I had not heard of prior to the writing of this article; it appears to be a term professionals use to label people who have come out of the other side of trauma more well-adjusted or positive. I can say for the birth-related trauma I experienced, I am a much stronger, positive, and empathetic person as a result of the darkness I navigated. It’s amazing to me, how when we experience situations in life, we can choose to “get better or get bitter”. And while that is a funny, cheesy cliche, it holds so much truth.
As a result of my traumatic birth, the Lord has opened a ministry for me to support women and men through their pregnancy, labor, birth, and postpartum experiences. The term post traumatic growth accurately labels the healing and progress I have made to over come the trauma I experienced from my uterus rupturing and subsequent Postpartum Mood Disorders (PPMDs).
Let’s back track a bit.
In the summer of 2018, I found myself pregnant with a surprise baby and well into my 2nd trimester. To say I was shocked, is an understatement. I went through a myriad of emotions: excitement, joy, anger, frustration, envy. I had them all. I already had 4 children and the thought of adding more responsibility to my already full-to-the-brim plate…. just did not sound appealing, at all.
I had to regulate the idea that we were going to add another child to our family and extend the depth of the love I have for my kids. This pregnancy, emotionally, felt like it was going to overtake me. Then began the physical ailments. I started having back pain like I had not experienced before, ever. I would have to crawl up the stairs crying in pain because I could not stand upright. Thankfully, my family was already under the care of a Webster-certified chiropractor and I was able to go about 3x a week. I would arrive at the office unable to walk vertically - she would do what she does best - and I left feeling a mountain of relief. I also struggled with low blood pressure to the point where I was so dizzy it wasn't safe for me to drive. It was very challenging to manage everyone's schedules with the primary caretaker unable to chauffeur kids around.
My pregnancy progressed well and the baby was growing normally, along with my belly! I will say it was hard to manage my symptoms and 4 active children, but we made it through none-the-less. On the morning of January 25th, I woke up to some light cramping but nothing very noticeable. I decided to go about my day and get the kids off to their respective activities. I contracted all throughout the day and just did what I could to serve my family well. It was a whirlwind type of a day because my step daughter had hurt her hand and I took her to the doctor to make sure she didn’t break it. I had to go to 3 different places to get her what she needed but I did it. I got home about 5 and the contractions just got more intense, getting closer together. About 7 pm, I called my doula and she got really excited helping me to breathe through the contractions. It was wonderful. She asked me to go to the hospital to get checked to see where we were and so off we went! As we were heading out the door, on the stairs, my water broke. I was so excited to experience that!! When we arrived at the hospital, I was so defeated because I was only 1cm after many hours of labor. I wanted to go back home to labor at home but the doctor strongly encouraged me be admitted. I was being bull headed but when my doula told me you need to stay...that woke me up. She was the one my whole pregnancy saying you can labor at home, so when she said no, I listened. Also, my child's father who generally doesn’t have an opinion said you need to stay... and he was right. And then we prayed and God said stay so I said ok I’ll stay. It’s funny to me now because I was mad after we prayed and he said you know you’re gonna do what God wants, so you might as well do it and stop being mad. He was right.
I was so sad to get admitted but I knew this was God’s will. I started laboring and it was so hard. My doula continued to text me through the night and my mom booked a flight. We were so so so excited! Little Bella-Anne Ivy Lundy was on her way!
Around 7 am on the 26th, I recall being in extreme pain and telling the nurse there wasn’t a break between each contraction. He said this is labor hunny and walked out of the room. That, for me, felt very dismissive and invalidating. I decided to get the epidural and get some rest. I had now been up for more than 24 hours, and could've used a good respite. We settled in after the epidural and were able to drift off to sleep. About 10:30 my nurse came in and said the baby was having some concerning decels and she needed to get me to flip and put an oxygen mask on. The resident on call soon followed and wanted to insert an internal monitor to get more data on how the baby was doing. While the resident was trying to place the internal monitor, it felt like 100 people came into the room, everyone was talking over each other, and I was getting more scared and anxious by the second. Why were all of these people in my room? Bella’s father was by my head and reassuring me that they did this with our first and everything was going to be all right. But I knew in my gut that everything was 100% not all right, and the tone of the staff’s voices also said everything I had dreamt about for this birth was simply crumbling. After a few minutes of the resident trying to place the internal monitor, the nurse said something to the effect of, “That’s it. I’m calling it. Let’s go to the O.R.!” I started shouting, “What’s happening; someone tell me what’s happening?!” I will never forget the look of horror on Bella’s dad’s face as they wheeled me out of my labor room and down the hall to the operating room.
When we got to the operating room. There was a flurry of activity in the medical staff prepping me for an emergency cesarean. I remember one specific nurse moving me up the O.R. table like a rag doll from the adrenaline rush. Shortly after, my obstetrician came in and begun the surgery. Upon opening my abdominal cavity he saw that my uterus had ruptured, and he would deliver a sweet baby who needed to be revived.
After she was born she spent some time in the NICU and we were released from the hospital 2 days later. After a few days passed, I noticed the pain I was experiencing continued to get worse and then, one afternoon I woke up from a nap with a high fever, so we went back to the hospital. I was admitted to receive antibiotics for a uterine infection. It was so hard to go back to the hospital and I was very emotional about it, but I knew it was what we needed to do to help my body continue to heal.
About a month after delivery, I started showing signs of postpartum rage. I would get intensely angry about the baby crying or me not being able to eat my meal hot, or one of the kids being to loud…kids are loud; its what they do. Looking back I was not coping well, at all. Then the intrusive thoughts started. I felt like such an unfit mother for having these thoughts that felt very intense, and like they were going to consume me. Then I had a conversation with a dear friend and told her people wouldn’t like me if they knew the things I’ve thought about my kids. Her response was slathered in grace and kindness; she simply said no judgement here, tell me what’s on your mind. I told her and we made a plan for what I could do if the thoughts became too overbearing; and also how to get some support from other friends who lived closer. A couple close friends would each come over about once a week and "fill in the gaps": put laundry away, pick up a messy bedroom, mop floors, or anything else that needed to be done. Some weeks it was just take the kids outside to play so I can bathe in peace!
It was through that nonjudgemental support from my friend, counseling, medication, and rallying "my village" I was able to see the "old Christina" again. It took some time, lots of patience, love, forgiveness, and grace for me and my family to find her again, but I can say confidently I am in a much better place now because of everything I have been through.
I am happy to be writing this on the other side of postpartum darkness, healthy and happy and whole. I have an amazing bond with my youngest and cherish every thing about her!
I never imagined for birth trauma to be part of my story, our story, but it is and I have a choice to make... get bitter or get better? I am glad to have chosen get better and then learned of the term post-traumatic growth.
In a world with so many opinions, vantage points, and busy schedules, I leave you with a question:
-We encourage mothers to get back to work and move on with life as usual, how can we, as a community of believers, support, encourage, come alongside these precious mothers that Jesus died to save and carry some of their burdens?
-Who can you support today through the child-rearing years? Hopefully, prayerfully, you're able to support a family who's experienced some realm of trauma in a non-judgmental way and in turn scaffold that mamas opportunity for post-traumatic growth.
Comments