My Story

I guess I will start in 2012. My second son was a few months old, when I experienced my first panic attack. At that time I was a stay-at-home mom and had been for about two years. I had just put both boys down for a nap and I, myself, also lied down. One of them

wasn't sleeping, so I went to get up and get them. Well I must have gotten up too fast, because everything went black and my ears started ringing. I often had dizziness when standing, but never to this extent. I grabbed the wall, and then everything inside me

became very warm, which caused me to believe something serious was wrong, and that I was dying.

In complete panic, I called my mom. In the middle of telling her I needed to go to the hospital, my phone hung up on her. So I tried my sister, not knowing what was going on.

Same thing, my phone disconnected. So now I am panicking even more, "oh my god, I can't get a hold of anyone and I am dying". I called 911 and explained what was going on, but once again, my phone cut out, so I was unsure what was going to happen.

A few minutes later I heard a knock at the door, it was a police officer. I sat on the front steps and explained what was going on, and he asked me if I was on any type of drug. This question took me by surprise, I was dying, and he was pretty much asking me if I was high. I have never done drugs in my life, and I said "no and I have kids in the house", he then said "that doesn't matter". I felt lack of understanding and even more upset.

When the ambulance finally arrived and took my vital signs my heart rate was very high. Lucky for me, my husband's uncle showed up to see what was going on

and stayed with the kids while they took me to the hospital. On the way to the hospital, I remember asking the paramedic if I was going to die, because I truly believed something very bad was wrong, I thought the warm feeling I felt was one of my organs bleeding out. I was nauseous and tired and shaking.

At the hospital I had to tell my story another THREE times, which was very frustrating. Everything checked out fine, but I still felt awful. The only thing they told me was that my blood pressure drops when I stand up, and my heart rate goes up, which causes my dizziness. They never said anything about a panic attack or anxiety.

I went home, where I spent the next few days doing nothing but crying, and still believing I was going to die. I didn't know what was wrong. I spent a lot of time with my parents and sister, who did their best to help me through. My husband was supportive, but unsure of how to help me, and is always working many hours to support our little family.

Finally I went to my family doctor, she started me on an antidepressant and an as needed anxiety medication. She also suggested I see a therapist.

Well anyone who takes an antidepressant knows it takes about four weeks to start working, I could not believe I would have to suffer this way for another four weeks. I hated the anxiety medication, because it made me even more tired than I already was. But with the help of my family and the medication things started to get better slowly. I did see a therapist, but did not feel she was very helpful.

Fast forward to summer of 2017. I still had my anxious episodes, but nothing to the extent of what I was through in 2012. I now had a full time job that I loved. In 2016 we had our third child, a baby girl. We were happy and our family was full.

We were on a camping trip, when I went to my husband crying, because I knew I was pregnant. He told me even if I was pregnant, everything was going to be okay. When we got home from camping, I took a test and sure enough, I was pregnant.

A few months prior to finding out I was pregnant with baby #4, I stopped taking my anti-depressant, but was seeing a new therapist for ways to manage the anxiety. I liked her better than the first therapist I saw, but after about 4 visits things became repetitive. However, she did help me understand the cycle of depression and anxiety.

My first three children were planned, so finding out I was unexpectedly pregnant, took me back to 2012. I cried ... all day long. I wasn't eating, barely sleeping. How could I feel this way about having another little baby? How could I be so upset and lay around crying all day, when I have three beautiful children to take care of? I felt guilty but I just couldn't get this "something bad is going to happen" feeling to go away.

When I found out I was pregnant, it was a weekend of course. So I called my therapist, who wasn't in. I called my primary doctor, who wasn't in. I called my OB/GYN, who finally said I should go to the ER for an evaluation and to be put on medication. Once again, the ER was not helpful. But, one thing we found out from blood work was that I wasn't as far along as I should have been based on my last menstrual cycle. After being cleared, they sent me to the psych floor. This was the scariest feeling. Everything was how you see it on TV. Empty white rooms, toilets without toilet seats, unit is locked down. But I just wasted my entire day, because the nurse told me they do not prescribe medication, because they cannot monitor it. So I was sent home, feeling defeated.

A few days later I had an appointment with a midwife at my OB/GYN office. She started me back on my medication, but again, I had to wait four weeks for it to start working.

She also gave me a list of people for abortion. Abortion? I could never go through with that. So I took the medication, and did my follow up blood work, which again showed

that I was not as far along as I should be. So an ultrasound was ordered, which confirmed that I was not as far as I thought, and that I had a blood pocket above the baby, so they sent me on my way and ordered another ultrasound for a few weeks later.

During this time, I took a leave from work, because I was unable to focus or control my crying outbursts.

I had started to feel a little better, and was having moments of being excited and starting to plan. I went for my ultrasound, which my six year old decided he wanted to go along to.

I was excited to see the baby, I was about 9 weeks along. After taking a few pictures, the tech said "Katelyn, I don't see a heart beat". What? How is that possible? I have had

three pregnancies without complications. My heart sank and I felt sick. She left the room to get the doctor, and I began to cry, and text my family and husband. They assured me

everything would be okay and to stay calm. My son was asking me questions, that I could not answer. I had questions myself. Like, "what did I do wrong?", "is it because I originally didn't want to be pregnant?", " is there something wrong with me?". When the doctor came in, he looked over the techs images, and confirmed. He told me to get dressed and see him in his office, where he told me I was measuring where I should be, so it must have just happened. I was sobbing, and still didn't fully believe it. What if they missed it and the baby was really fine? He scheduled me for surgery right away, because my body was acting as though I was still pregnant. Surgery? I couldn't have surgery, I would die. I spent the days up until my surgery, crying, and was still having morning sickness. How could I still have morning sickness if the baby was gone?! The day of surgery I asked them to do an ultrasound, because I still couldn't fully believe there was no heart beat. The doctor confirmed, and I was sent for my DC&E.

When I returned to work, I gave my notice. After talking with my husband and my family doctor, I decided it was not healthy for me to continue working in a stressful

environment, and that health care was not the best place for me. I have been taking care of the elderly since I was 16 years old. I was just accepted to nursing school to further

my career, and now I am lost. I have no idea what I am going to do with my life. But because of my anxiety, I cannot stay in health care. So currently I stay home and take care of my kids.

It's a blessing to watch them grow, but it has definitely put a financial strain on our life, but this too shall pass.

So, while I am finding myself, I have decided to start this blog, and take you all on the journey with me. I also hope this reaches other people who are struggling, so they know

there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I do believe everything happens for a reason. I will be sharing all types of things on here ... sad, happy, real. So welcome aboard.

This is just a quick first entry to tell you all about what has lead me to beginning a blog. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out via email.