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What it's like to have had a traumatic birth and PTSD III
Further to this post I want to do a further update or summary, now that there'll be another baby along in a minute.
Physical symptoms I can think of offhand:
Mental symptoms:
I see that not much has changed, really. Oh well. Ho hum.
Physical symptoms I can think of offhand:
- I still can't go to the toilet without manual intervention, which is increasingly difficult with a bump.
- I am no longer in constant pain but I am frequently in discomfort.
- I am not as continent as I would like to be.
- If someone grabs my butt in an affectionate manner, the squeeze is quite likely to stretch scar tissue in an extremely painful way, especially on the left side.
- I still can't have sex.
Mental symptoms:
- I am forgetful. I can remember some things very well, and hold long discussions on intervention births including statistics, and ten minutes later forget not only the statistics, but that I had the conversation. Luckily, I can blog.
- I forget words - simple vocabulary I use fairly frequently. Now I can blame this on pregnancy, though.
- I am wary of talking to women who are pregnant in case I terrify them. But I am still afraid of other people's births - I focus on advising them to be as assertive as hell and keep politeness to the minimum necessary to avoid rudeness, since I remain convinced that a bit less deference in my attitude would have changed things a lot.
- I cry when I hear of anyone who has a good birth. In a good way, but I cry.
- Television or radio representations of women in labour make me panic.
- I panic if I have to go to the doctor or the hospital, even if it's only to accompany someone else, such as my daughter. This is now being managed, but I do still panic, I just now have better tools for eg breathing through it.
- With a big trigger looming, ie the impending birth of my second child, my avoidant behaviour is much, much worse. I avoid hospital appointments to the point where Rob has to come to the house and tell me to go. I have been strongly tempted to lie to Rob about the time and date of appointments, too, though so far I've stopped myself.
- There are people who visited me while I was still in hospital last time whom I can't bring myself to see now, and suspect I really will not be able to see them in hospital again.
- I am once again subject to fits of anger, though not as extreme as they were two years ago. I had one the other day, when Rob mentioned that the obstetrician said something as he stitched me up (pun intended): the obstetrician addressed the observing student, and said "The perineum has amazing powers of self-healing, you know," or words to that effect. Less than a month later his stitches were torn out and my perineum was tearing along the original wound again. He never bothered to stitch my anal sphincter back together. Let's just trust in the wonder of nature to fix things, shall we? Gods that makes me angry.
I see that not much has changed, really. Oh well. Ho hum.
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(And anger at fuckwit doctors, like the one who told me as he wheeled me into the trauma surgery room that I would likely die because I was "obese", is healthy and right. The flame of righteous indignation can be a good focal point. ;-)
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but (hug)
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Gosh, that obstetrician really was ... spectacular. Wow.
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you deserve better
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