Perinatal OCD. Clutching my iPhone at 2 am, and squinting at the screen with my mind spinning, my heart sinking under the weight of a racing brain sped up by lack of sleep, I was positive — I definitely had a problem. And I had to get to the bottom of it.
I had typed in OCD because that’s what a therapist had suggested to my parents when I washed my hands to a pulp as a little kid one summer after a big move. While it was an accurate assessment at the time, the delivery could have been a little better.
Okay, let’s be real — the therapist told me, a 7-year-old, that I had a mental handicap. Not the thing to tell an imaginative and introverted kid who immediately internalized an image of my brain in a cast like a broken arm (I’d broken my arm twice, easy inspiration to call on).
Over the years, the way I experienced anxiety about significant life events shifted, from bouts of depression during my teenage years to an eating disorder in my 20s. The experience of each inspired the internal work I needed to do to heal. And it has given me the courage to speak to others about my experiences to help them heal, too.
For years, especially the last few, I’ve been grateful for the increasingly mindful and internally peaceful person I’ve become. Even a here or there worrying tendency was nothing that breathing deeply couldn’t solve.
Then the pandemic hit, right along with a major injury and the discovery I was pregnant again.
I found out I was pregnant the same week the Governor of California shut the entire state down because of COVID. And I was lying FLAT on my back. Doctor’s orders. And would be for two more months.
A little under two weeks prior to that closure, my husband and I had been at a theme park. We had the time of our lives but I got an unfortunate spinal injury after a roller coaster ride.
I could hardly move due to the pain level, and my head throbbed. I had a potential CSF leak, the ER said (CSF stands for Cerebrospinal Fluid Leak, feel free to suspend your temporary self-ban of Googling and search if you’re curious, it’s a doozy).
I set up an appointment for an MRI…. and then it hit. Both news of the pandemic and then my nausea. Nausea is one of the major signs of a CSF leak complication and I was Googling the heck out of anything that might be wrong… then I realized… I might be pregnant. Not even four weeks pregnant. But pregnant.
And there it was, my husband sat straight up and I laid flat on my back looking at the word PREGNANT that flashed across the digital screen.
I was excited. And terrified. And both have never stopped.
While my back had healed considerably by 21 weeks pregnant, I was certain something was wrong with my mind because I could not stop obsessively looking for the problems, and had compulsions to check everything, I mean everything.
So if you find yourself reading this because you’re doing something very similar, worrying without end and keeping yourself up at night wondering what’s wrong with you, I want you to find comfort in what I’m about to do next, because YOU are not alone.
And also, there’s nothing wrong with you. Your fear makes complete sense. Especially during a pandemic where we are all locked outside, are scared at least to some degree when we have to venture out, and especially when PREGNANT and having to go to prenatal appointments by ourselves.
The Googling Fest Timeline (First 21 Weeks)
Oh, my spinning mind… from the second I was pregnant, it sent me into a wave of worrying about anything and everything that could possibly go wrong and what I may have accidentally done wrong. Then I’d run an exhaustive set of checks to make sure I absolutely hadn’t done that thing.
I’ve had miscarriages, was laying flat on my back, and the world had shut down because of a deadly virus we knew little about, so my mind had plenty to choose from, and I Googled it ALL (trigger warning for anyone who is still processing miscarriages or a really bad injury you are fearing may last forever because my fear goes there, but I do want to let you know it ends well and that ultimately it will end well for you too. <3)
This of course leaves out Googling all of the things I couldn’t do anymore like take hot baths or showers, pet cats (that one’s interesting), or eat (what a smorgasbord that one is).
At 5 weeks pregnant, I bled and looked it up. It had to be a miscarriage. It wasn’t.
At 5.5 week pregnant, my left side was killing me and I looked it up. It had to be an ectopic pregnancy. It wasn’t.
At 8 weeks pregnant, my back continued to kill me and I looked it up. Some people with CSF injuries held onto pain for years. One committed suicide. I was convinced I needed to get used to chronic pain. Within a month I was 75% better and now I’m writing this virtually free from that pain.
At 10 weeks pregnant, I saw my baby on a screen. This is the furthest I’d ever made it in my pregnancy journey. I was heartened but knew it was still the first trimester. So I looked up the probabilities of a miscarriage at 10 weeks with a heartbeat and secretly held my breath for three more weeks until that second trimester. The pregnancy remained healthy.
At 13 weeks pregnant, I was still awaiting my NIPT results and was scared the baby may have an abnormality because in the middle of the night I read about risks related to advanced maternal age and I’m close at 34. The NIPT test came back clear and I found out I was having a baby boy.
At 16 weeks pregnant, my belly was getting heavier and I woke up in the middle of the night lying on my back and was worried I’d hurt the baby. I looked it up and was horrified. The baby was perfectly healthy.
At 18 weeks pregnant, I went on a babymoon with my husband. We wore masks the whole time and stayed far away from people, but the room got super hot one afternoon while he went out for a run. I had hot flashes and my body was red. I’d given myself permission to take a warmer than usual shower earlier that morning on top of it. I was convinced I’d hurt the baby and looked up what increased body temperature does to a developing fetus. And cried on and off for the rest of the day. The baby was perfectly healthy at my next appointment.
At 20 weeks pregnant, after my anatomy scan had gone well, I felt increasing pressure and Braxton Hicks contractions. I looked it up. I was convinced I had a weak cervix or a horrible UTI. I was perfectly healthy.
At 21 weeks pregnant, my brain switched to non-pregnancy related issues looking for the problems anywhere it could. And that’s when I realized that I needed to stop and get conscious about where I’d let my mind go. And so I doubled down on reflection and on taking the time to soothe myself.
This focus on slowing down, on breathing, has allowed me to realize that my fears aren’t anything I’ve Googled at all. They are deeper. More existential. Will I be a good mother? Will I be able to keep my son safe during a pandemic? Will the world ever go back to “normal” for him? Will this world be a safe place for him? Will I be able to deliver him?…
I don’t have to Google any of those questions to know they are so normal.
And I have so much compassion for myself.
If you have been worrying nonstop and wondering what the heck is wrong with YOU, I extend that same compassion to you, am so here for you, and encourage you to extend that same compassion to yourself.
Remember, just because you are afraid of it, that does NOT make it true. Especially if you’re a recovering perfectionist like yours truly.
And while Google can tell you what is “wrong” based on whatever symptoms you’re googling, I urge you to put the phone down and ask yourself what you feel is truly the matter.
Even if you are struggling with something like Perinatal/Postpartum OCD or Perinatal/Postpartum Depression, which I am still in the process of working out for myself, researching it in a way that scares you isn’t going to encourage the healing you’re seeking.
And if you meet the resulting fearful thoughts with a loving observation instead of judgment, you may just find that you’re simply trying to protect yourself. Love that part of yourself that needed the worry and release it. And from that place seek additional help like a therapist or other support if you determine it’s right for you.
Releasing fear takes commitment, and I do so every day, more and more effectively as I continue to practice (and re-practice) letting go, consistently over time. It also takes changing the way you talk to yourself, something so subtle but so life-changing, and I teach you how to begin that journey here.
After all, we don’t know what the future brings. But we do know we can choose how we meet it. I choose loving self-compassion. And I know you’re so capable of doing the same.
Because you are Perfection, Mama! As-is.