Good Grief

I faced a new challenge this week that I wasn't prepared for - grieving while pregnant. National tragedies will of course always get to me. But this one hit me harder than usual, triggered my anxiety at a level I hadn't felt in a long time, and made me worry much more than I could have ever imagined for the world in which I'm bringing my daughter into.

Yesterday, I cried, which while isn't an unusual response for most people to a national tragedy, it was an unusual response for me. You see, I'm not big into crying. It happens on a very rare occasion. I still have very few instances of crying under my belt in my life, even five months into my first pregnancy. And then, after the crying came an overwhelming sense of dread. Chest pain, making it difficult to breath followed. Then my vision blurred. I felt as though I was being crushed into an ever shrinking box. I was having a full blown anxiety attack.

It took me longer than it should have to realize that was what was happening, but there it was. And I felt terrified for the very first time that my anxiety could potentially hurt my baby. My lower stomach felt tight. Was I having a contraction? I'm not sure if I've never had a contraction before, so was this tightening it? Was the tightening squeezing my baby the way my chest felt squeezed? Was my trouble breathing restricting oxygen to my baby?

Do yourself a favor if you are pregnant and having your first full blown anxiety attack - DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT go to Google for answers. If it becomes unbearable, call your doctor.

I didn't call my doctor. I didn't call or reach out to anyone. Another rookie mistake. After consulting with Google, I did the next last thing you shouldn't do when anxious in the aftermath of a national tragedy - I hopped on Social Media. The venom, the hatred, the arguments (not debates, make no mistake, those weren't debates), the blame... it was horrible, and it just made my anxiety worse.

I have very strong opinions when it comes to the gun control debate, but I couldn't articulate anything. All I felt and could think about was awful, horrifying, all-consuming grief. The only thing I could bear to say was "My thoughts and prayers are with you Vegas." And then I saw people saying hateful things about those remarks (not aimed directly at me, but generally aimed at the so-called "type" of people that post such a thing in the way of a tragedy). How thoughts and prayers will do nothing, and how the type of people that say those types of things are part of the problem. And sadly, I've probably thought or said that type of judgmental thing in the past too. I was so angry. I was so grief-stricken. I was so hurt.

That's when I remembered that it's less important for me to join a debate where well reasoned people are saying my feelings, but in much more articulated ways, than it was for me to practice some self-care. I really didn't need to be there. I didn't have any obligation whatsoever to being online in that moment. My obligation in that moment, and every moment that I carry this baby, is to this baby. I needed to take a step back. I needed to take care of myself. I needed to take care of my body and therefore my baby. So I did.

I don't owe it to anyone to be on Social Media ever, but especially not when I'm anxious. I don't owe my thoughts on any subject to anyone at any time. So I took a break. I stepped away. I said "FUCK THIS" and set down my laptop. Fortunately despite being logged into my office job, I was working from home yesterday, and I was due a break anyways.

I remembered that I have a tool-belt of mechanisms that I can and should be tapping into in that moment to manage my anxiety. I started to take deep breaths, I started counting out, I started slowing my breath down, and I just reminded myself that I needed to BREATH. I meditated, I reflected, I allowed myself to feel what I was feeling without judging myself for it.

After some time, the anxiety backed off - not fully - and I started to relax. I'm still anxious today. But nothing like I was yesterday. And despite the anxiety yesterday, and anxiety today, I never stopped feeling my baby moving around the way she normally does. And that was and is my greatest comfort.