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About two years before I welcomed my daughter, Lily, I transitioned from a career in public relations in Washington D.C. back to my hometown of St. Louis with my partner, Jake. While he pursued his law degree at night, I decided to embark on a Master’s in counseling, inspired by my own experiences growing up in a blended family after my parents divorced when I was twelve.
In my first graduate course, Personal and Professional Development in Counseling, we were encouraged to engage in therapy ourselves to work through any personal issues that could interfere with our ability to support others. “Every good therapist sees a therapist,” my instructor emphasized. So, I sought out a fully licensed therapist, having had some previous experience with counseling, but it had been a while. I thought I’d only need six months to resolve my issues, but here I am, nearly ten years later, still seeing her regularly.
Looking back, it feels almost fateful that I had a therapist during my pregnancy with Lily, especially as we faced one complicated diagnosis after another. Just when we thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. Each time we managed to adapt to our new reality, another wave of challenging news hit us. The work I had done to heal from past wounds quickly shifted to coping with the uncertainties surrounding Lily’s health and the stresses of caregiving.
When Lily was just a few days old, I found myself reaching out to my therapist, desperately needing to talk. I had just learned that Lily didn’t pass her newborn hearing screening at the hospital, and my anxiety began to spiral. I was hesitant to share this news with family and friends, unsure of how their reactions might amplify my worries.
I found a quiet moment in the basement, sitting in a worn-out recliner, waiting for my therapist’s call. As I stared at a blank screen, my thoughts raced. When she called, I answered immediately, trying to sound composed. “Hi, Genny. How are you?” she asked, her tone warm yet cautious, likely sensing my underlying distress.
“I’m okay,” I started, but then I paused. It felt disingenuous. “Actually, I’m not okay. I’m terrified.” The tears flowed as I shared my fears about Lily’s hearing. My therapist listened patiently, allowing me to express my emotions without rushing to offer solutions.
Through our conversation, I jotted down some coping statements that resonated with me, such as “I don’t like waiting; this is hard for me” and “I can handle not knowing, but I would really like to know.” These simple affirmations became mantras that helped ground me during the following weeks.
My therapist encouraged me to focus on solvable problems, which shifted my energy from overwhelming worries to manageable tasks. I sought help from a lactation consultant to improve breastfeeding and made decisions based on Lily’s well-being.
I share this story because I feel incredibly fortunate to have had a therapist during those challenging early days. The combination of postpartum hormones, sleepless nights, and the weight of uncertainty can be isolating. My therapist provided a space for me to express my fears and emotions, which was something I had never experienced before.
As I navigated my grief, I learned that Jake and I cope in different ways, which is perfectly okay. He might not want to discuss Lily’s health when I need to talk about it, and I realized I needed additional support outside of our relationship. For the first time, I confronted my feelings instead of burying them, and my therapist was there to support me through it all.
In the wake of losing Lily, Jake and I founded the Lily Anderson Memorial Foundation to create resources for families facing similar challenges. We wanted to ensure that vital services were accessible to all parents on this uncertain journey. I can’t imagine how difficult it would have been without the support of my therapist, which is why I was thrilled when I learned about another organization that provided mental health services for parents at St. Louis Children’s Hospital. In 2019, we worked together to create a position specifically for parents on the neurology floor, which has had a significant impact on many families.
Reflecting on my therapy sessions now, I’m finally revisiting some of the issues I initially brought to my therapist a decade ago. Fortunately, I now have healthy coping strategies that I developed while caring for Lily. I continue to work through my PTSD and address my anxiety as a parent, especially with my other children. It’s an ongoing journey, but I’m committed to facing it each day.
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Summary:
Navigating the complexities of motherhood can be overwhelming, especially when faced with unexpected challenges. The author shares her personal journey of relying on therapy during her pregnancy and the early days of motherhood, emphasizing the importance of emotional support and coping strategies. This experience led to the creation of a foundation dedicated to helping families in similar situations, highlighting the vital role of mental health resources.
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