this is my story of dealing with postpartum depression, OCD, and psychosis. for the prologue go {here}
"have you had thoughts of wanting to harm your baby?"
i stare at him, this E.R. doctor who i met moments ago. this man who has never experienced pregnancy, who doesn't understand what hyperemesis does to a person. this man whose body has never been stretched and torn and exposed. a man who has never tried and failed to breastfeed a helpless newborn. a man who has never felt the ups and downs of estrogen and progesterone surging through his body.
and i am supposed to talk to him about the horrifying thoughts i've been having.
he is waiting for my answer, so i try. "i haven't had exactly, well thoughts
on purpose of wanting to hurt my baby. i love my son."
how am i supposed to explain to him the vicious, fiery love i feel for my son.
"i've had some scary dreams about him dying. i see violent images in my head all the time." i leave it at that.
he looks down at a clip board. "and you have had thoughts of harming yourself?"
this question somehow, is easier to answer.
"yes."
"and you have a history of suicide and depression?"
"yes, i tried to end my life when i was fifteen."
he looks at me and i wonder, how am i supposed to explain to him how i felt that day. a complete stranger, who i do not trust. how can i tell him how low a person can feel.
"so why weren't you able to complete the suicide attempt?"
now i'm looking to travis for help. "it just...didn't work." the only thing i can think to say.
the doctor says he is going to go find a crisis counselor and that she will be in soon.
he leaves the room and i wonder, how did this happen to my life. a nurse comes in and introduces a woman who she says is here to take my blood. as she surveys my forearm to find a vein, a flood of memories wash over me, of nurses poking me over and over to start an IV.
"wow, you have a lot of scar tissue in your veins." she remarks.
travis tells her about my hyperemesis. she apologizes for the pain while she draws several vials worth of blood, to check for abnormalities, she says.
a while later, the crisis counselor comes in. she is wearing a colorful woven skirt and has dark, curly hair. she smiles and asks me what brings us here today.
taking a deep breath, i explain to her that i have been feeling sad and empty for several months. that i've been having suicidal thoughts and wanting to disappear. that last night, i made a plan to take all the pills in our medicine cabinet several hours after remington went to bed, so travis would be home from the fire station in time to feed him. explained to her how that seemed like my only option left.
thankfully, travis had called and heard in my voice that things were bad. he called my mom, who came right over and put me to bed. the next morning at her insistence, i called my OBGYN's office and they instructed us to come to the E.R.
the crisis counselor is easier to talk to than the doctor. she asks a series of questions to assess me, and then she says she is going to go talk to the psychiatrist about my treatment.
we wait.
an orderly comes in and informs me that he is outside my door and that i am not allowed to leave and that if travis leaves the room, he will come inside and wait with me.
i look at travis. "i guess they take the whole suicide thing pretty seriously around here?"
while we continue to wait, we hear a woman in the hall screaming obscenities. "TAKE ME TO MY DOCTOR! GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME! ^$%t#u@#^%@#!" of course her room is right next to mine. of course.
is this what it means to be a psych patient?
the longer we wait, the more i wonder if i am losing my mind. i hate wearing a hospital gown.
finally, the crisis worker comes back in and apologizes for the wait.
"what would you think about staying here for a few days?" she asks me. i look at travis, his face surprised. we thought someone would be talking to me about antidepressants and prescribing something. i think about how he is supposed to be working now, how he has work in the next few days. who would watch remington? how much would it cost to stay here.
"that would be really inconvenient." i say to the crisis worker. "i don't think i can."
"well, i'm sorry, but we aren't giving you a choice." she says gently. "the psychiatrist doesn't feel comfortable letting you leave. do you feel safe leaving?"
as i am thinking about that, she asks travis what he thinks. asks him if he trusts me around our baby.
what he says melts my soul. "you should see her with him." he says. "i am not worried about anything when she is with our baby."
then he looks at me. "if this is where you need to be right now, i think you should stay. everything will be fine, collette."
before i know what is happening, a nurse is wheeling me up to the psych floor, travis walking next to me. this nurse leaves me with another nurse, who assures me they are going to take care of me. it seems to me that mass chaos is going on. people in drab hospital gowns are walking by with trays of food. one man is talking to a woman, using some quality profanity at a loud volume. it smells like a cafeteria that has been soaked in bleach. i have no idea what is happening to me and travis looks terrified.
"she is going to have her own room, right?" he asks the nurse, who is taking me phone away from me and all of my personal items.
the nurse checks some notes, "um, yes, we're going to do our best with that. but you have to leave now."
i didn't realize that travis wouldn't be able to stay with me. he bends down over my wheelchair and tears fill his eyes. i'm crying too.
"am i crazy?" i whisper.
the tears are dripping down his face. "no, no you are not crazy. i don't want to leave you here. are you going to be okay?" we hug and he kisses me and then he has to go.
my eyes are still wet as two psych techs walk me down the hall to a bedroom. there are two beds. "wait, i ask. i thought i was getting a private room." i picture a strange woman leering over my bed in the dark, clutching a shank of some kind. i cannot handle this.
the psych techs say they aren't sure about my private room, but that they have to do a skin check on me.
a skin check? that sounds like-
"we need you to remove your pants and open your gown so we can check you."
so i'm not allowed to leave
and strangers have to look at me naked.
of course i deal with this by saying, "i just had a baby, so my body isn't exactly what it used to be."
they assure me i look great, which is really not helping the weirdness of the situation. i'm informed that i will get my clothes back after they have been washed.
so i'm bra-less.
wearing a thin hospital gown and little blue socks.
i have no clue what remington is doing, and the mere thought of him brings me back to tears.
until a young girl with short brown hair comes in the room to say hi, and i notice a note on my bed welcoming me. i'm feeling less nervous about sharing a room, but then the nurse comes in and tells me we are moving to a private room.
sigh of relief.
we walk to the end of the hall and turn right into the private room. there is a nice view of the mountains and the University of Utah. i stare at the campus, dully wondering how i went from being a psych major there to being committed to an institution. there has to be a joke in there somewhere. the nurse settles me in, takes me dinner order, and leaves me alone.
i take stock of the room. twin sized bed, side table next to it. i check the drawers, which are empty. a small closet. my own bathroom, thankfully. everything is clean, but simple and dated. like a small hotel room, really.
then a man is standing in the doorway.
"knock knock." he says. "i'm the nurse manager for this floor. i'm here to make sure you feel safe here."
i look at him blankly.
"your husband just came to see me. he was pretty upset, seemed to think you felt unsafe here. i can assure you, you are very safe. all the psychotic patients are on another floor. everyone here deals mostly with depression and anxiety."
my heart floods with warmth at picturing travis storming this man's office, demanding that i be set free.
i thank the man for stopping by and tell him i'm okay.
then dinner is brought to my room and so is travis. it's visiting hour. seeing each other, we cry again and hug. i tell him about the skin check. he tells me about talking to the nurse manager. all too soon, the hour passes and he hugs me goodbye. i tell him to tell remington i miss him.
then, i am alone.
i muster my courage and leave the safety of my room and walk out into the hall. as i enter the main living area, a man walks past me.
"don't drink the water." he warns. "it'll brainwash you. that's how they get you."
am i dreaming? i wonder.
then the girl who was almost my roommate walks up to me, hugs me, and asks, "how are you girl?" i ask her where the phone is and she shows me and says goodnight.
after calling my mom and travis, i take a pill to help me sleep, then head to my room.
i get into bed and huddle there, feeling much like a wild animal holed up in a den. my door doesn't shut all the way, so that the techs can check on us periodically, and i can see a couple walking by. the man who warned me about the water and a blonde woman, who could really have used the bra the techs had taken from her. they seem to be pacing through the hallways. i catch snatches of their conversation, something about her husband not treating her right and the man being upset about that.
as i drift off to sleep, my last thought is wondering if they are having a secret love affair.
then, with light sneaking through the door cracked open, the sleeping pill kicks in. this is the first night i have ever slept away from remington, the furthest distance i have ever been from him. tomorrow i will see the psychiatrist. tomorrow i will have to face those questions i am dreading. but for now, i drift to sleep.
xo.
