Eleven days after my son was born, I found myself driving to a moms' group half an hour from my house. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to drive for another couple of days, but I figured it was fine because I had stopped pain meds two days before. My C-section incision still throbbed dully with pain, but it was manageable. And I desperately needed to go see a group of fellow mamas.
During the drive, though, I couldn’t relax
My baby seemed too tiny to be in such a large, fast-moving vehicle. Halfway down a major stretch of freeway, my throat began to close.
With my heart racing, I tried to focus on the road, but my hands seemed disconnected to the steering wheel. My face tingled and burned. I began to shake. I couldn’t breathe.
I pulled over and turned my hazard lights on.
I sucked deep breaths of air into my lungs, begging the panic attack to go away. What if I threw up? What if someone crashed into us? What if I couldn’t make myself keep driving and had to call my husband to come get the baby and me?
I just had to get to the house. Maybe seeing all the other mamas would ground me.
Somehow, I made it to my friend’s house.
I’ve never gotten out of a car faster
“How do you guys drive with your kids in the car?” I asked once my baby and I were settled on the couch.
“You get used to it,” said a mom of two. “Carrying that precious cargo around in a car is scary at first, but I promise it’ll get better.”
Still, I dreaded the drive home. What if another panic attack clobbered me mid-freeway? I had been suffering from panic attacks for years. They’d made me pull the car over before.
They often kept me up all night too — me shaking and trying not to vomit, no real monster in sight. Just a vise around my throat that kept me from breathing right.
Movie theaters, concerts, and restaurants scared me
Any crowded place, really. What if I threw up in the middle of a crowd of people? I often pinpointed the nearest restroom or exit and found myself fast-walking to it several times during the meal, movie, or concert, leaving my companions staring and asking questions I couldn’t answer.
I never actually threw up. The panic attacks just constantly made me feel like I was going to.
And now, here I was, a mother, and I couldn’t even drive down the freeway without pulling over to panic.
I had tried cognitive behavioral therapy. EMDR therapy. Praying, meditation, self-help books. None of it made the panic stop. Just before my son was born, a psychiatrist diagnosed me with OCD and generalized anxiety disorder, and gave me a Zoloft prescription.
Shortly after that scary drive with my newborn, I started taking the Zoloft for my OCD.
A week later, a miracle happened: I found myself driving without fear
Sleeping instead of staying up worrying about barfing. Confidently taking my son to Costco in his Ergo carrier without worrying I’d have to sprint through the crowded store and find somewhere to not actually vomit, but feel like I was about to.
And I know it’s thanks to Zoloft. Three years into this motherhood journey, and I’m still taking Zoloft every single day.
Without it, I’d still be that terrified mother pulling over on the freeway. I wouldn’t be able to hold my son while he vomits from the stomach flu. I would be panicking and dragging him out of restaurants or library story time because I felt like I couldn’t breathe right.
In short, Zoloft makes me a better mother. And I'll never be ashamed of that.
