My anxiety has been causing havoc this week it’s drained the energy out of me and caused arguments. The 9th September is quite a significant day in my life since last year it’s the date things went terribly wrong for my littlest boy.
A year ago on this day started off normally like any other day I got the boys up and dressed, took the oldest to school he’d only been there 10 days. I met my volunteer and went to a baby group with the youngest and came home and my health visitor came to weigh him everything normal. No issues. Picked my oldest up from school and took him to his friends house for tea and the community nurse was due to visit at 4. She was late and turned up at 4:30 at 5 my eldest returned home and 5:15 my husband returns home from work. The nurse is checking the oxygen saturationssbd used two different machines as it wasn’t reading well. He was to be no lower then 85% he was reading at 74% so that was it before I knew it she was dialling 999 from her mobile explaining the situation. I’m in tears on the phone to my mum then I phone my sister and my grandad. I’m in floods of tears panicking. How is this happening I’m told its precaution and nothing to worry about. They will check hin over and he will be home. The ambulance crew turn up and we are blue lighted to hospital. I cried the whole way there I’ve never travelled so fast before. We got admitted to triage then on to the children’s ward. If his sats stay above 90% overnight we can go home. They did for the majority of the night but around 3am he was unsettled and kept kicking the probe off his foot. But it was classed as a low reading so we had to be transferred to the specialist hospital. I had no clothes with me, no nappies, no formula. I had a phone charger, a cardigan for my youngest and my purse. No food, no water, nothing, no hairbrush I had nothing. Yet we were being transferred to a hospital 60 miles away. I missed my eldest bless him he didn’t have a clue why his baby brother was carted off in an ambulance. I wanted to take my baby and run and come home. This wasn’t suppose to happen.
A year later this is all still fresh in my mind and despite the date I went ahead with a therapy session. Stupidly should have cancelled it because today was also the youngest boys first day at nursery so anxiety kicked me big time. I couldn’t go through with the therapy and I couldn’t do what I was asked to do because I was too scared and too tense. I disappointed myself and I’m annoyed with myself. I phoned my support worker but she didn’t answer so I went wandering back into town centre feeling like shit. Feeling like I’ve wasted my time and the therapists time too. All that way for nothing. I got a call back from my support worker and I just broke down in tears overcome with so much emotion and disappointment. I felt shit. Too much going on I was totally alone and I needed someone to talk to. She was that person. There wasn’t anyone else. I can’t open up to people about it so it’s not likes there’s a list of people to call. I’m drained and I’m tired as I barely slept last night. I think I’ve taken on too much but I hate letting people down.