What is happening to me?

So it had all began, and I had not the slightest idea what was happening to me. My thoughts constantly churned trying to understand what could have triggered such a 'near death' experience (okay, so obviously now I recognize that I was not close to death at all, but at the moment it felt so authentic that I strongly believe I can empathize with the feelings of one dying--because to me, at the time, it was real). The attack had brought unusual symptoms with it: my extremities were constantly tingling with a pins and needle sensation, I had difficulty breathing and deep breaths seemed almost impossible, I felt dizzy and my heart felt weak. I was positive my body was no longer getting enough oxygen and although death no longer felt imminent I did believe it would come through a long drawn-out process from something horrible. I knew myself and I knew this was not me. That knowledge made me more anxious about the symptoms I was having. Every day it seemed as though something new was developing--I must be spiraling down towards the end.

Functioning became difficult. All I could focus on was the constant presence of countless symptoms and the fear of another 'episode'. I couldn't drive, run errands, or sit in a restaurant or theater  I didn't want to leave the safety of my house but inside I couldn't convince myself to do much else then meet the basic needs of my children. My husband was filling in the gaps where I could no longer brave. On top of a full load of classes in his second semester of graduate school he was now doing the cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping, and laundry. At least, I thought, it will be good preparation for when I'm gone and he will have to carry-on as a single dad with three little ones. Pathetic? Not at all, because it was completely real to me.

I went to my OB for an appointment wondering if it had to do with my hormones from having a baby (some of my ailments seemed to worsen for brief periods while I breastfed my little girl). I told the nurse practitioner most of the symptoms I felt were relevant (I didn't want to appear crazy after all :) and she took great concern. Listening to my heart she told me she believed I had a mitral valve prolapse. Apparently during pregnancy as our heart expands to allow for more blood-flow it produces a slight murmur that closes soon after delivery. Apparently mine hadn't. She referred me to a heart specialist and said that she would try to push it through so I could see him as quickly as possible. Terrifying right? Well the weeks waiting for approval from my insurance and then for an appointment were excruciating. I was diligently aware of my heart. I would constantly take my pulse and even began to feel flutters and skipped beats. When I would lay down at night I would start crying knowing that I might not wake up in the morning. My husband would say, "Do you at least want me to hold you while you die?" I always did.

The big day came, my heart had held out long enough to make it to my appointment. They started with an EKG and then the doctor came in to the office to discuss my symptoms. I told him, he listened, and then said, "Your symptoms are actually quite normal. Your EKG came back perfect and I didn't hear anything wrong with your heart." I couldn't believe it. All this waiting just to be told it was all normal. I thought of the countless nights of no sleep, the never ending worry and counting of my heart beats, my poor tingling hands. "You need to get more rest. Try and stay extremely hydrated. Oh, and when you have a hard time breathing just grab a paper-sac to breath into until you feel better." A specialist? Hah! He did order me an ultrasound for the following week just to ease my nerves.

Nothing changed. Well at least not for the good. I began getting a sharp pain in my chest directly above my heart. My skipped beats became more pronounced and I began having this falling feeling when I was lying in bed. Before I even got the results of my ultrasound I was so worked-up I set an appointment with the doctor again--he must have been wrong. He hooked me up to a heart monitor and when all the results were in he told me the devastating news--my heart was completely healthy and strong. How in the world could it be completely healthy? I had several skipped beats, palpitations, and even a few falling sensations while wearing the monitor. I felt confused and disappointed to have not found the solution to my illness. It was out there though and I vowed to find it...as long as I didn't die first.

Don't Go Towards the Light--How it all Began

It was Christmas day. I was enjoying myself but was exhausted from all the travel and late nights of internet shopping combined with a four month old infant becoming accustomed to her pack'n'play. My parents had invited my cousins and their kids over for Christmas dinner and we all sat talking around the table speaking loudly so we could be heard over the shouting of excited children running through the house. I was telling some ridiculous story involving me and something embarrassing I had done when it all started. My mom placed a tray of desserts in the center of the table and, as I talked, I grabbed for a large peanut butter ball. When I bit down a strange taste entered my mouth and for a split second I thought, "something is wrong," then my world shifted. My vision began to tunnel and grow dimmer and dimmer. Knowing I was nearing the end of my story, I tried to stay focused but I couldn't. Apparently I began to explain to my sister-in-law that I had been poisoned. "The peanut butter candies are poisoned," I kept muttering. Then miraculously I was better. Looking toward a very perplexed face, I smiled at my sister-in-law and said, "that was weird." I don't know who felt more confused by the encounter.


When the company went home that night my sweet husband approached me and asked if I was okay. Apparently he had witnessed my brief madness and was concerned. Assuring him I was fine I began to contemplate, for the first time since the occurrence, what had happened. I thought of the peanut butter ball and questioned whether I had somehow developed a food allergy that had brought on some kind of reaction (remembering that my mom's friend had recently developed an allergy to a z-pak after her third day taking the medication and went into full anaphylactic shock). Instantly I began spinning. I started hearing ringing in my ears, my entire body went tingly and weak. I called for my husband and told him something was wrong. As he took me to the couch to lie down, I felt a tightness in my lungs and a skipping sensation in my heart. Something was definitely wrong. The voices of those around me became muffled and distant. "I think I am having an allergic reaction," I kept repeating. My mom ran and grabbed the Benadryl and I was given a good dose (or two). I felt so foggy and distant, it was getting harder to breath and I thought, "this can't be the end." 


My thoughts kept turning to my sweet babies. My angel boys and the sweet little girl I had just been sent months before. "I just want to hold my babies," I started to say, "please just get my babies." I felt the warmth of my husband sitting next to me and thought how much I loved him. Perhaps I may have also had some less noble thoughts like, "I can't die. I haven't even seen Hunger Games yet." and "Can I really die a brunette," due to my crazy after birth experimentation I had taken on just a few weeks back, but I'm only human. The bottom line--I was dying. Between questions of whether someone should call an ambulance and what my symptoms were so they could conduct an appropriate Google search, I just kept thinking how not ready I was to die. Just don't go towards the light, I had seen the movies and knew how it worked, they couldn't take me if I refused to go (which I actually wholeheartedly don't agree with but in the moment I felt it was worth a try). Just don't go.


"Every search result I'm getting says she is most likely having either anxiety or a panic attack," relayed my sister-in-law. Shame Google, you usually do such a great job at answering my life questions...shame! I began thinking that dying sure was taking a long time. I had seemed to plateau on my symptoms and although I didn't feel any better, my airways hadn't closed up and my heart was still beating (irregularities and all). "I need a blessing, " I told my husband. Within minutes I had three of the men I loved most in my life--and worthy Priesthood holders--around me, hands on my head, blessing me. My head began to clear and although it was difficult to concentrate on the words, I could feel the calming power enter my body. By the end of the blessing I felt hope that I still had life ahead of me. Then I had to be helped to the restroom in a hurry. 


And thus it all began. My life was forever changed.

Formal Introductions

I am a big fan of formal introductions. First impressions once lost are lost forever, right? Well not entirely, we do know that the fabulous Lizzie ends up with the staunch Mr. Darcy after he slowly reveals his true (extremely attractive) self, but for the most part poor first impressions are difficult to overcome. That is why I believe in an honest, candid first impression. I want people to see me for who I am in the beginning. So with no further ado, I would like to formally introduce myself to you, so you know who I am and why I am writing this blog.

My name is Jessica and I am the mother of three beautiful children. After two fairly easy pregnancies and deliveries I became pregnant with my third. A few months after delivery I had a full blown panic attack and a rapid onset of anxiety. I didn't know where to turn for answers. I was in a constant state of physical and emotional turmoil. I began researching anything related to my symptoms (which was helpful sometimes and detrimental most of the time) from postpartum depression to countless physical illnesses. After several doctors appointments, a lot of faith, and a very trying period of my life I have finally begun to function again.

So why write a blog? Obviously I'm not an expert in basically anything (not mental illnesses, mothering, keeping a tidy house, even photography...really anything) but I do feel that everyone, regardless of their formal training, has valuable information to share they have gained through certain unique experiences. Information that needs to be shared! I can remember sitting down with doctors/specialists and explaining my very real, physical symptoms just to have the doctor look at me and say "that is actually pretty normal." What?? Are you kidding me? I felt like I was honestly dying and they told me that my symptoms were completely normal. Well how come when I google them it says that I could have hundreds of different terminal diseases? Maybe you are just writing me off because I look young and healthy when really I'm one of the .0006 percent that actually has ___________ disease. Obviously I didn't say anything to them, at least not so straight forwardly, but I was devastated.

However, as I began talking to more people about my symptoms, the more I began to discover that they were more normal than I had ever known. Yet ironically no one felt that way. I began to recognize the fact that people (at least not your typical person) don't tend to share personal information on the whim. When you ask someone how they are doing they respond, "Okay." not, "I'm actually having a ton of heart palpitations and am worried I could die of heart failure at any moment." But naturally, once someone opens up about certain situations or trials they are going through, a feeling of sharing is ignited. The more I began to openly share what I was going through, with no shame, the more stories I collected of people I knew and respected who had, or knew someone who had, gone through a very similar situation. Months ago I felt so alone in my situation, and now I understand why the doctor's wrote-off my symptoms as normal, because in a lot of ways they were (well not normal as much as not abnormal).

That is why I so strongly wanted to share what I learned (and what I am continuing to learn). I wanted others who are going through a similar situation to have hope. I wanted loved ones of those people to maybe get a glimpse into some of the trials associated with postpartum anxiety and how to support someone through it. But then I thought, why just share about my anxiety? I've constantly learned lessons the hard way so why not share all the little tidbits of information I've gained and maybe save someone a little trouble? Like my husband always says, "You don't know what you don't know until you don't know it." I hope that someone can find an answer they are searching for, that perhaps they didn't know they needed until now, as I share my own 'don't know' insights.