Mental Health, Miscarriages, & Motherhood Messiness

I promised real and this may be a little too real and triggering for some, but here it is...

This one is extra long, but deep and personal.

I started therapy a few years ago when my husband George and I decided to become foster parents. I figured that dealing with some of my own issues and developing some coping skills for when I was feeling overwhelmed or triggered would be beneficial to the whole house and any children that we brought in. Fun fact, it did not take long for my therapist to tell me that I was either bipolar 2 (rapid cycling) or had ADHD, and she was trying to figure out which one it was. George and I had one foster class left to be certified foster parents when we decided to quit the process because I was pregnant. I was not pregnant very long. That baby only made it ten weeks in my belly and had to be surgically removed due to no heartbeat. Naturally, this triggered a depression. My primary care doctor prescribed me an antidepressant that immediately sent me into a hypomanic episode. I did not know that was what it was at the time, I just knew I felt great! I was wired, not sleeping, and felt on top of the world. I thought the meds had done their job. My doctor and therapist told me that it was a textbook chemical reaction to the antidepressants that meant I was in fact bipolar. I could not stay on the medication that made me feel so good, but they decided to put me on a bipolar specific mood stabilizer. After that, my mental health was as level as it has ever been. I sometimes felt like I was not fully myself, like my emotions were caged in and I could not feel things as intensely as I should have or would have liked to. I was level but kind of disconnected. It is a stereotype of bipolar people that they often come off their meds, and I could understand the desire sometimes, but I knew that I had to be more stable for my family. 

We lost two more babies after that. When I became pregnant with each I had to stop my meds, but they were lost to us anyway with no explanation. One of the most traumatizing things I have ever experienced was knowing that my body had rejected a baby, and I had to flush it away in the other bodily waste that my body purged because they were too small to have needed to be removed and passed naturally the last two times. My therapist recommended a doctor that had close connections with specialists in the maternal-fetal medicine field. He ran every test that my OB recommended and then some. I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Disease. It was not a huge surprise because my mom also has it, and it possibly explained my recurrent miscarriages. Basically, it is an autoimmune disease that attacks the thyroid gland, causing all sorts of varied symptoms that I just thought were normal for me. One common symptom is miscarriages. My doctor treated me with the goal of me being able to have one more baby.

I wanted to end my fertility journey positively, not with three failures. I wanted my body to successfully do what it had done twice before, and women all over the world do easily and accidentally. I felt like a failure as a woman. I heard all the typical grief lines. Everything happens for a reason. At least you know you can get pregnant. At least they were all early losses. It’s not your fault. It’s no one's fault. One in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage. It’s all part of God’s plan. I will be honest, these losses gave me what my therapist calls a crisis of faith. Bottom line, I was mad at God and questioned belief in a being that would do this to us and our family. Telling my younger son about the first loss and his reaction will haunt me for the rest of my life. I hope I never have to give him news that makes him shatter before my eyes ever again. We did not tell any of the kids about the two that followed.

I was angry, I was depressed, but I was also determined to figure out what was wrong with me so that I could do it right and forget about the losses. That is not a thing. You never forget.

The doctor got me “leveled out” and told me I could come off of my bipolar meds and birth control I had been on while we tried to figure everything out. I could try again. So, we started the process of intentionally trying to conceive. After about three months, we started to question if another baby was really what we wanted anymore. We were approached during this uncertainty with the option to adopt a toddler that I had been working with for almost a year and adored. We decided that we wanted to adopt her instead of continuing to try for a baby. We came to terms with the fact that a baby was not what our future would hold. I knew that I could not handle another loss, and even a successful pregnancy would not take away from the pain we experienced losing those three little babies that never had a name. We chose Felicity. She instantly became part of our family and we were a perfect match for each other. She was the missing piece in our house that we didn’t even know we needed. The adoption process, we were told, would be fast because we already knew her, had a relationship with her, and they wanted her to have permanency as soon as possible. I was going to restart my meds and had a doctor's appointment scheduled to do so. Felicity was already with us every day. 

The day before my doctor's appointment, I decided to take a pregnancy test because it was simply that time of month, and I joked that it would be ironic if I was pregnant after all of this when we decided not to go that route anymore. It was faintly positive. Even George was not absolutely sure it was positive. I tested again the next morning before my appointment. It was positive. Still faint but definitely there. I called the doctor. They tested me in the office, and I was indeed pregnant. They adjusted my thyroid medication for pregnancy and referred me to an endocrinologist for him to monitor my thyroid for the duration of my pregnancy. Going back on my other meds was not an option.

I was in shock. I was terrified. What did this mean for our adoption? Would it jeopardize it and cost us Felicity? Would this baby even make it? Could I handle another loss? Were we going to have two more kids when we had just decided that we were not going to have anymore at all, then decided just one was what we needed? Was George really happy about it or just not trying to upset me? I wanted to tell people, but did not want to have to tell them we lost another one in just a few weeks. I did not want the judgment and opinions about the whole situation. I wanted so bad to be hopeful and excited, and part of me was, but the largest part of me was feeling absolute fear. 

As the weeks sped by with Felicity and doctor’s appointments, I finally had to make the call I had been dreading to Felicity’s case worker. All of my specialists were telling me that everything in my pregnancy was going well. We were having a baby boy and he looked healthy by all accounts and test results. We had to know if this baby was going to affect our eligibility to adopt Felicity. We put off telling the caseworker in case we lost this baby, then we waited because it was supposed to be a quick adoption. The pregnancy did not change our love for her and desire to be her forever family. However, there had been delay after delay in her case. When I called her caseworker she congratulated us and reassured me that the pregnancy should not be stressing me in this regard, it changed nothing in the adoption plan. I cried in relief. It was a race to the finish if Felicity or baby Ethan would be joining our family first.

Meanwhile, I stayed off of what I like to call my crazy meds, but was closely monitored by all my doctors, therapist, and family. Besides being a little low in the first trimester, my mental health was more level than I could have hoped for. They say that sometimes pregnancy hormones will adjust your brain chemistry and maybe that’s the case. I fully intend to go back on my meds as soon as Ethan is weaned or I need them, whichever comes first. I told George when I started this piece that I didn’t know if this was about mental health, miscarriage, or adoption and he pointed out that all of these things really go together. He’s right. This part of my motherhood, physical health, and mental health journey all go together. Maybe you were just curious about my brand of crazy, maybe you wanted to know more about our adoption process, or maybe you could relate to my miscarriages. No matter why you stuck around and read all of this, I hope that you either learned something or were engaged in my complicated messy story. This is how our blended family of five quickly became seven. 

Currently, Ethan is six months old, I am still off my meds, but I have been pretty low. I scheduled an appointment with a new psychologist in case I need to restart my meds and my trusted regular therapist to help me with nonmedicated coping skills. It’s been like starting from scratch with my mental health. The psychologist is thinking I have BOTH bipolar disorder and ADHD, but has not seen enough of me yet to officially diagnose me. We will see. My brain has been all over the place. CONSTANT racing thoughts, more low days than high, a constant need to feel productive, but a velcro baby that limits that, three kids in activities contributing to a never ending busy schedule, and my brain just can’t focus or remember anything ever. That is another reason why I started this blog. I am hoping that I can use it as a way to get all the clutter out of my head. Please share if you can relate to any of this. I hear much of this is common, but I sure feel alone, even though logically I know I’m not. I know I have people, I have support where many don’t, but it doesn’t always FEEL that way. I feel alone and unrelatable in my messy brand of crazy.