Mental Health

‘I’m 39 Weeks Pregnant in the Middle of a Pandemic’

The uncertainty and stress finally made me realize I need anxiety medication.
Pregnant woman.
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There is a certain kind of predictability about the unpredictability of childbirth. I know that I will go into labor, most likely between the 38th and 42nd week of pregnancy. I know that labor will most likely start with irregular contractions that feel like mild cramps and eventually become more painful and more regular until they are close enough that it’s time to go to the hospital. I know that, at some point, my water will break (or be broken for me), that I will be in extreme pain, that I will have nurses and my partner around me to help, and that it will ultimately all end with me holding my baby in my arms.

But there is nothing predictable about giving birth in the middle of a pandemic—which is where I find myself at the start of my 39th week of pregnancy.

For more than a year, my husband and I have planned for this momentous occasion in our lives. We started trying, got pregnant, had a miscarriage, struggled to heal, tried again, got pregnant a second time, and dealt with all of the added anxiety of being pregnant after a miscarriage.

I got through the terrifying first trimester, when the chances of having another miscarriage are at its highest, found out the sex of our child and started putting together the nursery and organizing the house in the second trimester, and finally reached the third trimester. This is when we could put the finishing touches on the baby’s room, celebrate his upcoming arrival with family and friends at our baby shower, and spend the final few weeks of this pregnancy enjoying our last moments as a family of two.

But in the middle of a national emergency, enjoying those last moments starts to look much different than either of us could have imagined.

Since there’s no manual on what to expect when you’re expecting in the middle of a worldwide pandemic, my moderate levels of pregnancy anxiety have quickly turned into unmanageable levels of perinatal anxiety—which is why, with just a week before my due date, I have decided that it is time to take medication for my anxiety disorder.

Five years ago, after my mom took me to rehab, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) on top of the substance-use disorder I was battling at the time. Although I got sober and haven’t had a drink in four years, my anxiety didn’t just go away. At the time I sought therapy and have continued to see a therapist all these years in order to manage my anxiety and work on healthier coping mechanisms that didn’t involve shutting off my anxious brain with a bottle of vodka.

I’ve been mostly successful in finding new ways to cope with my anxiety and, for the longest time, resisted medication. After all, cognitive behavioral therapy—a type of common talk therapy focused on becoming aware of “negative thinking so you can view challenging situations more clearly and respond to them in a more effective way,” according to the Mayo Clinic—was working well for me. I still struggled with anxiety, but it largely felt manageable to me.

Even when my anxiety over losing this baby became anxiety over the pregnancy’s progressing healthfully became anxiety over giving birth and becoming a first-time mom, I managed. I knew that, at the end of the day, I had a strong marriage with a loving partner and a great support system in my family and friends—and I’ve been through much harder things. I knew that the hospital where I’ll be giving birth in Florida is allowing partners to be present. I knew, too, that it would all end in us coming home as a family. And while all of that is still true, the world I am bringing my baby into today is not the same world we thought we were bringing him into just weeks ago.

As a first-time mom, I knew that I had no clue about what childbirth would really be like, or how awkwardly my husband and I would change our first diapers, or how many times I’d have to call my mom in the middle of the night and beg her to come help. I knew that it “takes a village” to raise a child because it’s in every pregnancy book I read over the past nine months, and I read plenty. But what I didn’t know is that my village would look very different from what I imagined or wanted. What I didn’t know, while we excitedly built baby furniture and shopped for tiny pajamas and stocked our freezer and attended our hospital’s maternity classes, is that my planned fourth trimester is not going to look anything like it should.

There won’t be smiling family greeting our baby in the hospital because hospitals across the country are limiting their maternity wards to just one support person or visitor per mom—or none at all. In my case, only my husband is allowed to be with me during labor and the days following. No doula to help us through delivery or the early moments after giving birth. No friends coming over to meet our baby in his early days, bringing over casseroles and offering to help with the laundry. I won’t even be able to attend the local new-mommy groups I excitedly put on my calendar months ago.

Instead, it will be just my husband and me—and now, my Lexapro.

The decision to take anxiety medication hasn’t come easy. I’ve had several discussions with my ob-gyn and my therapist over the course of this pregnancy about whether I might eventually need to go on medication in order to manage my anxiety. I knew that I had a higher risk of experiencing pregnancy and postpartum anxiety because of my history of GAD, the trauma of my previous miscarriage, and even my hypothyroidism, according to Postpartum Support International. I also knew what symptoms to watch out for and how to figure out the line between when the anxiety still felt manageable with my usual coping skills (such as therapy, even though like many other therapists, mine is working on setting up teletherapy but isn’t sure if my insurance will cover it) and when it would cross the line into being completely unmanageable. I knew how to reach out for help if I needed it.

As things surrounding the coronavirus pandemic and the ensuing precautions began to unravel a couple of weeks ago, I noticed myself getting increasingly panicky and paranoid during the day. All my normal constant worrying and racing thoughts were suddenly multiplied to the point that I found myself stressed to the point of being nearly catatonic, barely able to function with everyday work and life. I found myself stress eating and have gained five pounds in the past couple of weeks (which according to my ob-gyn is unusual but perfectly fine considering the situation).

So at my last prenatal checkup I brought up medication with my doctor, and with just days before I go into labor, my doctor and I have a plan in place.

Although she didn’t recommend I start medication right away since I am so close to giving birth, I am set to start taking Lexapro, a commonly prescribed SSRI used to treat depression and anxiety, before I leave the hospital with my baby in my arms. Together we made the decision to help me be the best mom I can be by taking medication to help calm the unmanageable worry, panic, sleepless nights, intrusive thoughts, and sheer paranoia I have felt in these last few weeks as a pregnant woman in the middle of a pandemic.

Giving birth and becoming a new mom in the middle of the coronavirus crisis is completely unprecedented and unpredictable. But doing something about my feelings of worry and panic, well, that is something I can control. I can seek help and I can work toward, as cheesy as it sounds, accepting the things I cannot change (the pandemic) and changing the things I can (my medication and the other precautions we take as a family during this time).

Worries still plague me: Will childbirth hurt more than I can imagine? Will my parents be able to meet my baby? Will the medication make breastfeeding difficult? Will walking around the block with my baby help us feel less lonely and isolated? Will I be a good mom?

But I also know that I am doing the best I can for me and my baby right now. I’m isolating in my home, I’m washing my hands constantly, I am continuing to go to doctors appointments and seeking help for my anxiety, and I am well-prepared for months of barely leaving the house.

For now, while new parenthood is still uncertain and this pandemic continues to change our lives daily, that’s all I can do. And you know what? I feel like a good mom already.

Irina Gonzalez is an editor and freelance writer based in Florida covering parenting, recovery, and Latinx culture. Follow her on Instagram @msirinagonzalez.