Literally. It’s been a struggle for me to write this post, and I still don’t know if I’ll be able to discuss exactly what happened.
That morning, I was going to make a nice breakfast to show that I was over the previous night’s events. I was sitting with the baby, so I asked my friend to put the vinyl shower mat in the shower and run some water over it–I knew my husband was getting up for work in a little while, and wanted to make sure he had a clean shower and mat. Unfortunately, I forgot to go rinse the shower. When he woke up and went into the bathroom, he was mad. The shower was dirty and now he’d have to clean it himself and possibly be late to work. He made a lot of noise in the kitchen getting water to rinse the shower mat, and then slammed the bathroom door. This pissed me off, and I voiced my displeasure, not caring if he heard me or not. I decided to gather my shower items and head upstairs, not wanting to be in his way. When he came out of the bathroom, I overheard him on the phone with my mother in law. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep, but I heard him say something that made me uncomfortable. I told my best friend that I needed to leave, and went upstairs to my parents’ house through the front door, instead of using the door that led through the bedroom.
I asked my mother to go downstairs and listen at the door that leads to the apartment, so that she could hear what was being said. It may have been unethical, but at the time, I needed her to hear what was being said. I’m not sure if that’s what she did, but I headed to the bathroom. I locked the door and stared at myself in the mirror. The words of Ashanti’s “Rain On Me” began to play in my head. I felt so depressed, so worn down, so tired. I started to cry. I began to pray for myself, my son, and our family. I started to feel dizzy, so I sat on the floor and continued to pray. I kept praying, getting louder, but also feeling more tired and dizzy. At that time, I was physically there, but my mind was somewhere else. While I can recall everything that happened while I was on that bathroom floor, I’m still processing it and am choosing not to blog about it. All I know is that I passed out and woke up in the back of an ambulance with my mother crying over me.
I didn’t know how I got into the ambulance. I didn’t know why I was in the hospital. I couldn’t tell the emergency room doctor what happened. I couldn’t remember hitting my mother or cursing, although that’s what they told me happened. My mother said that was how she could tell it wasn’t me–because I was cursing. After being asked if I heard voices, had smoked or drank since having my baby, or was on any medications, I chose not to submit to a blood test and was discharged from the emergency room.
Of course, there’s more to the story, but I’m choosing to keep it private. Just know that I’m fine–what happened to me was a reaction to the stress I was under. My body and my mind simply couldn’t cope with the lack of sleep, shift in hormones, and increased stress I was experiencing. What happened is called post partum psychosis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postpartum_psychosis), and I’m thankful that my best friend is currently in a master’s psychology program and was able to diagnose me and explain what was going on to the EMT’s.
I have a Type A personality. I like to be in control at all times (one of the main reasons I didn’t want an epidural was because I heard you couldn’t feel anything below your waist) at all times. This experience has taught me that I can’t always be in control. It has also taught me that I can’t just suppress my emotions. Like I said, I’m fine now–but if my story can help someone else…