The Wave, by Katie Bingham (Indiana Department of Health)

Katie Bingham created her story in the Progressing Postpartum Digital Storytelling Workshop, facilitated by StoryCollab, sponsored by the Indiana Department of Health, and supported by the Health Resources and Services Administration (HRSA) of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, as part of the Maternal Health Innovations initiative.

Find out more about StoryCollab here: www.StoryCollab.org.

Embark on a deeply personal journey through motherhood, where a seemingly perfect pregnancy and delivery give way to a crippling battle with anxiety. This raw and honest story explores the silent struggles that can follow childbirth, challenging the myth of the "perfect mom" and highlighting the profound impact of mental health. It is a story of resilience, self-advocacy, and the powerful moment of finding peace and healing in a new beginning.

TRANSCRIPT:

The doctors said I was made for having babies.

That's how well my pregnancy and delivery went.

They put my daughter, my soulmate, on my chest.

“There you are”, my soul said to hers.

She raised her head to meet my eyes, and the nurses said, “Look at that!”

They took her measurements; her height, her weight, her breathing.

And then, out of nowhere. The wave.

Could I do this? What if she was taken from me?

Every time I tried to feed her, she’d recoil in pain.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I do this right?

I was made for this. That’s what the doctor said.

I should be better than this.

(After the first night, the nurses took her to the nursery.

“Sleep”, they said. “It’ll help.”

Sleep?? But you’re taking her from me.

I’ve already failed. What if something happens?

They bring her back.

I hold her. I cry.

Crying is normal. That’s motherhood, they assure me.

But this isn’t normal. I knew that even then.

The thoughts are constant now.

What if she’s taken from me, or I from her?

What if I’m not a good mom? What if I’m not doing this right?

What if? What if? What if?

I am consumed.

It’s been a year, and I finally tell my doctor, but I’m no longer postpartum. So, I return to the silence.

This was supposed to be easy for me.

I’m better now, mostly.

Condom breaks, Plan B fails. I’m pregnant.

But something’s wrong. My body screams, but somehow my smile stays.

I beg the doctors to see me. There’s a lot of blood and then the ultrasound.

It’s ectopic.

The wave is back.

I’m failing…my husband, my kid, my job,...

…myself.

I can barely function… obsessed with my thoughts.

My husband begs me to get help.

So I do.

This time, I agree to a second child.

This time, I advocate.

This time, I tell anyone who will listen.

My counselor’s by my side. My care team is in place.

Another textbook delivery.

They put my second soulmate on my chest.

“There you are, my little love… I worked so hard to meet you. Thank you for waiting”.

They take her.

I prepare for the wave.

But it never comes.