Eventually my husband went back to work and I had no idea how I was going to handle everything. He worked overnight and then slept during the day. I tried to keep my son from crying so that he could sleep. I tried so hard not to wake him up myself because I was lonely and completely sick of being by myself...with my son. I was so exhausted. I yearned to sleep. I wanted to sleep so badly, but my body and mind would not allow me to. During the night, my husband would call and check on me. He would typically call around 1am, 3am, and sometimes again around 5am. His calls kept me encouraged and allowed me to take my mind off of my constant anxiety. We would talk for a few minutes and then I would try to go to sleep. I would sleep for awhile until I heard my son move or make a sound and then I would go into panic mode thinking that he was going to wake up after I finally was able to fall asleep. My heart would start racing and going back to sleep became impossible. Every night was the same and I didn't think I could take much more.
Toward the end of that third week, I ran into my friend Stacia. She asked me how I was doing. My response obviously did not match my tired eyes and lack of enthusiasm. She asked if I was okay. I continued to say that I was going to be fine. I was just very, very tired. I didn't go into too much detail, but I did say that I was having problems sleeping and had not had much sleep at all for the past month. She asked if there was anything she could do. The first thing that came to my mind (I will never forget) was for Stacia to just take my son. I didn't want him anymore and I just couldn't take one more night. Of course, I did not tell her this. She mentioned something about watching him for a few hours so I could get some sleep. I told her that I could not sleep during the day due to panic attacks, so although it would be nice to have a break, it would also give me even more anxiety. Stacia told me to call her if I needed anything. I said that I would and we left. The next day or a couple of days later, Stacia called me and said that she would like to watch my son overnight so that I could get some rest. She said that she could tell that I was stressed and that my son was probably sensing that which was making things worse. She offered to come to my home and get up with him during the night so that I could sleep. I told her that it was very thoughtful of her, but that I would still be up with my son and Stacia regardless because whenever my son would cry during the night, I would immediately start to have severe anxiety and I could not sleep. We talked for awhile and tried to make some type of plans, but we just were not sure what would help. Later that day, Stacia called me and asked if it would be okay for her to watch Seth at her house overnight. I hesitated as I thought about it. I immediately felt relief, then guilt. I couldn't believe that I was just ready to hand my son over for an overnight stay without any worry or feelings of sadness--I was completely relieved. I told her that I would truly appreciate it and that I may be able to sleep if he was not in our home.
I dropped Seth off around 9pm that evening. I was ready to run out the door, but I stayed around and kissed him goodbye. I gave her all of the instructions and she told me that I had only one job to do, and that was to sleep. She told me not to worry about Seth at all and that everything would be fine. We planned that I would pick Seth up around 10am the following morning. I drove back to my home (right around the corner) and felt the biggest sense of relief that I have ever felt. I only stayed up for about an hour and then went to bed. I actually slept! I probably got a solid 6 hours of sleep. I woke up around 5am in a panic. I realized that my panic was due to having to pick my son up in less than 5 hours. I felt so ashamed. I could not believe that I was having a panic attack about picking my son up. I was hoping that I would miss him and be ready to go and get him, but instead, I was dreading it. Again, I felt absolutely horrible. What kind of mother was I? How could I feel this way? I actually wished that I would never have to go and pick him up. I cried because I didn't want to go and get him and because I felt so bad for having those feelings.
I drove over to Stacia's home and we spoke for a little while. She told me that Seth did fine and that everything went well. She asked if I was able to get any sleep. I said that I did and thanked her for her help. I told her that I felt better just by getting some sleep--which was true, but I still was not ready to pick him up! I thanked her over and over for being willing to keep him overnight even though he is very needy and was up every 2 hours at least. Again, she said that it was no problem. She said that Seth was such a sweetheart and that he was a good baby. Inside I just stared at her. Why didn't I think he was a sweetheart? Why did I not think that he was a good baby? Why was I so consumed with everything and overwhelmed when thousands and thousands of mothers go through sleep deprivation and everything else and they are just fine? Why was I such a wimp?
That overnight stay was so helpful even though it brought up other feelings. It was the first night that I had slept for more than 2 hours straight. I needed that almost more than anything else. That extra sleep allowed me to be more awake and attentive to my son and his needs. Although it was not the ultimate fix for everything, it helped tremendously. I was and still am so thankful that Stacia was so helpful to me. She called me or texted me from time to time to check on me and Seth. She was an angel in a time that I truly needed one. It's funny how God always has something waiting. Just when you don't think you can take one more night, He puts someone in your life who can help meet your needs and allow you to keep going. I can never repay Stacia for her sacrifice. I will never forget it and I will always be grateful for her help. She and her husband helped in several other ways...too many to mention...but they have been a significant part of my healing process.
I wish I could say that everything got better from here, but it didn't. God did show me that I had more support then I knew, but my sadness, anxiety, and panic attacks were getting worse. Thankfully I had a church family that I opened up to and got even more support. The days to come were some of the roughest days of my life and I thank God that I am still here to talk about them.
