This post is 10 years in the making and this is what pregnancy with PTSD looked like for me back then.

Mental, Social, and Emotional Manifestation

I couldn’t allow myself to bond with my baby because, despite my doctor’s reassurance that “this is a normal pregnancy”, I was scared that maybe it wouldn’t result in a live baby. So sharing the news far and wide was out of the question.

Once I started showing, any mention of the pregnancy or congratulations would cause me to start sweating in fear. Don’t jynx it, I thought! Don’t talk about it!

So I isolated. No more going out unless it was to my appointments or to Target because strangers wouldn’t talk to me there. I put off work travel until I was 20 weeks.

The stress continued. One of the doctors I worked with came to congratulate me and it was like time stood still all of a sudden, and I was looking for a way to make the earth open and swallow me. Disappearing would have been easier to deal with than the spotlight he was shining on my belly! I declined a baby shower and purchased nothing for the arrival of the baby until the last month.

Every kick was received with hyper vigilance: is “it” kicking too much? Or not kicking enough. Sometimes I would call the nurse for reassurance; one time I ended up in the E.R. scared that the baby was moving too much and what if that meant it was in distress. I was high-risk so the frequent ultrasounds became the highlight of my month, because they confirmed that we made it through another milestone and my baby was still alive.

Why am I sharing this?

Because we need to tell these stories, otherwise they grow deeper roots in our psyche. I didn’t know at the time that I had PTSD. I didn’t know that I wasn’t alone and that so many others were feeling the same. So, I carried so much shame and guilt for many years because “I didn’t do better”. Now I know I did the best I could. No, I could not have done any better at the time.

I’m sharing this because the health care system is reactive and designed for acute care, in isolation, and we need holistic care: the person, as a whole physical, mental and emotional, energetic person.

The Good News

Every situation has two sides. The bright side, if you will, of my experience is that in my isolation I reduced the noise around me and spent a lot of time with myself and, in an attempt to stay busy and distract myself, I actually ended up doing a lot of self care, spending a lot of time in nature, doing yoga, getting acupuncture and massage, and learning to make jewelry in order to quiet down my monkey mind.

The actual birth is a separate story that doesn’t need to be told now. The baby arrived safely eventually and the silver lining is that we spend a lot of time together, getting to know each other, and bonding.

Bottom line

You’re not alone. Whatever you’re going through, I can guarantee you that there are others dealing with the same thing. Support is key, reach out!

Keeping it real: the arrival of my baby didn’t “cure” my PTSD. For that to happen, I had to learn to recognize sensations in my body, to be safe in my body again, so that I can stay present even when triggered. But it pushed me on the path of recovery so I can be the best version of myself that I can be, for myself and for her.