I was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia in 2014 and I've been on meds since then. The problem is that the meds cause depression too. I'm on fluanxol injections.
Am a young woman on my early 20s, stuck in life, Am an orphan, no parents, so I've been living with relatives. If you ask me what's the toughest thing in life I'll tell you is having no parents, being an orphan. My whole life I've been living with relatives, bing thrown out, you move to the next one and so forth, I've been dealing with heavy depression and stress. I am alone in this world and have no one to turn to. Its so hard to stay motivated and be in school cause I feel I have no purpose in life and I should just die. I always wonder if there are other people who've had a life like mine. Locking yourself up and crying to sleep everyday. Feeling like its not worth living.
Its just a sad life
As I left my house that day for the 26th week clinic, I was exited. It would be the only clinic my husband would miss, he had a client that he was attending to. I prepared, put on a white body can dress and drove to the hospital. It was all fine, the student nurse at Nazareth hospital told me that there was a bit of Protein in urine, but it shouldn't be an alarm, it will be dealt with. I was sent to the examination room, the baby was fine and very playful, when my blood pressure readings were taken, it read 152/90 so the nurse told me to relax for a while and have the readings taken again, this time it was 154/94. I was sent to the doctor. He looked at me and told me "we may have to admit you" , I was shaking, uncertain, so I called my husband to bring me some clothes to change.
I was immediately put on the drip in the labour ward. I could see the nurses conversing in low tones, I was put on magnesium drip for the whole night, but nothing changed, so I was transferred to another hospital of my choice, but still it dint work. I was then returned to Kenyatta hospital. All I remember is ambulance sirens and Er doctors receiving me with more magnesium drips. I was diagnosed with Severe pre-eclampsia. They called it PET, or so I heard.
All they kept saying is "dear, we are going to have to extract the foetus, but we won't lie that it will live". I had cried to that phrase too much that it soon became flat. I was so emotionless. I was ready for death itself. In fact when I was given the Theatre consent to sign, I felt as though I was signing away my childs life. This gave me no reason to live. I felt like a failed mother. I remember the Theatre lights, the oxygen masks, and the beautiful cry of my Precious angel, yes, I named her Precious, I still have her birth notification, but I only held it for two days, because my precious decided to rest, she was done with the beeping ICU machines，choking tubes, endless injections, resuscitations, the artificial heat and cold. She could tell she wasn't listening to mummy and daddy's bad voice. She could tell that she wasn't in the warm protection of my ribs. So she gave up. She waited for the 9.00pm nursery visit and in my absence, she just left. I remember my last conversation with her, which she just responded with a deep breath. She just lay there, as tiny as she was. 800g but she could grip my finger. I just broke down, my heart shuttered when the doctor confirmed that there was no pulse.
For one moment my world stopped. In the cold night. 12th of July, 2018. A year I had believed was of Restoration, came shutting down. I didn't believe it until the nurse went back to her drawer and pulled out a "Notification for death" book. She registered my baby , cause of death, Respiratory Distress and had me countersign.
It has been a trying time. I never for one second in life thought that I would ever visit a morgue in pursuit of a burial permit. I didn't. I just left. I was assured that precious would get a good sendoff. I know so, I feel it. I went in with too much hope. Someone said that hope can be dangerous. I joined preemies groups, all of whom had survived. Never for one instance did anyone prepare me for otherwise. None of those groups had mothers of preemies who had gone to be with the Lord.
Now am left with memories, the clothes I had bought, ultrasound reports and even photos of her in the nursery bed. Hoping that one day I will get over the pain. But as Elizabeth Kubler puts it, the reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not get over the loss of a loved one, you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but, you will never be same, nor would you want to.
Sometimes I look at this girl in my office and I head out to her car and masturbate on it. Some times I want to follow her home and, well, you know the rest. I'm I normal? Should I seek help?
Hi, am truly concerened on how the boychild has been left to fend for himself in the society. where can i get a mentor who can help shape my life to a better path? my dad is a deadbeat and my uncles on my mum's side arent approachable....some are just mean old bastards who do not respect women and think they are better in life since they are loaded... I have a girfriend but i need guidance on what to expect in a relationship and later when am ready, to marry someone.
Welcome to bonga