ptsd and the nicu: when the feelings linger by jill marcum
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After 100 days in the NICU with our twin boys it was no surprise that I developed some general anxiety. As the years passed, thankfully, the anxiety lessened. I had no issues going into the hospital for routine visits; I even volunteered with other "NICU veteran moms" to provide meals for parents who were currently in the NICU. A couple of years ago I even had a very close friend who needed support in the NICU with relatively minor issues with her baby, and I had no problem being there for her. I felt that each of these visits helped me in my healing process. I felt like my NICU days were "all behind me". I had moved forward and now it was just part of my story, a part of my past. Until one day it wasn't...it was part of my present once again. No, I didn't end up with another child in the NICU, but after years from this journey, I was completely blindsided with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It just so happened to be the week of my twin boys' ninth birthday, so some of the bittersweet feelings of that time in our life were already in mind, but they were just distant memories. I received an unexpected phone call that a dear
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friend of mine had complications at birth which resulted in her baby boy fighting for his life in the NICU, the very same NICU my boys had been in nine years prior. All of those feelings and emotions that had been placed in their safe little box of memories was ripped wide open. Every horrible feeling of fear, anxiety, despair, and anger came flooding back all at once, as a sucker punch to the gut. Emotional scars I thought long healed were bleeding again, as I hurt for my friend and for my own experiences. I was suddenly paralyzed by PTSD. I was suddenly transported back nine years to my NICU trauma. For any parent who has been fortunate enough to not require a NICU stay of any duration, it may seem unfathomable to be affected in this manner. In the days and weeks that followed, I tried to make sense of these intense feelings. I cried multiple times a day, along with experiencing sudden bouts of shortness of breath. For a couple of weeks, I was barely able to function with my daily routine. The littlest things could trigger an overwhelming fight or flight response. Noises like the beeps at the grocery store checkout, the smell of hospital soap, or my phone ringing (fearful someone is calling with more bad news) were enough to set me on edge.
