2 Weeks Postpartum (Part 2 of my Story)

Two weeks after my first child was born, everything fell to pieces.  I can still remember it like it was yesterday, and 9.5 years have passed. The day began as a normal day would, I suppose.  My husband (for background info on this go here) and I took Gage for his 2 week appointment at the pediatrician.  Everything looked fine, and we left the office with our sweet little bundle snugly tucked into his car seat.  We began the 20 minute drive home, with me in the driver seat.

At some point in our short trip home, I began praying out loud for my husband, because I perceived him to be acting really strange.  The more I prayed, the madder he became, and I became more and more convinced that he was under a spiritual attack.  He kept telling me to stop, and I refused, even going as far as loudly and forcefully commanding the evil to flee from him.  He began to be concerned about me driving, because I was freaking out, to say the least.  He told me to pull the car over into a Hardee’s parking lot.  He jumped out, and I jumped out, continuing in my quest to rid him of the evil I perceived to be so present.  I remember the look  of terror on his face as he used our cell phone to call my parents.  By this time, I had gotten back into the driver’s seat, and watched him finish his frantic call.

Before I knew it, my Mom was stooped down in front of me, extremely scared and concerned.  I couldn’t understand why they were so scared.  It was so obvious to me that my husband was under some sort of spiritual attack, and I thought that Satan was blinding them.  I remember saying to my Mom, as she tried so hard to understand what was happening, “Do you see these eyes, Mama.  These eyes are not my own.  They are Jesus’ eyes looking at you.  It’s not me, it’s Jesus.”

Within minutes, and to my surprise, the ambulance arrived.  A couple of men in EMT uniforms came over to us and told me that I would need to come with them.  I tried to refuse and became frantic over the fact that I was going to be separated from my baby, who I was nursing.  How was he going to eat?  And, why did I have to go to the hospital?  Why is everyone turning against me?  Why don’t they believe that my husband is under a spiritual attack?  They are all blinded!

They somehow managed to get me into the ambulance.  I arrived at the triage area of the psychiatric hospital, and my Mom met us there.  I was trying in every way possible to find a way out of the situation.  I even asked people sitting around me to let me use their cell phones to call home.  I felt like I was in a bad dream that I could not awaken from.  No one believed that I didn’t need to be there, and I didn’t understand why everyone was turning against me.  I remember being called into an office, where they asked me some questions.  The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of the psychiatric wing, screaming and fighting in protest to being put there against my will.  A group of nurses surrounded me as I fought, and ended up bringing me down to the floor, where they injected me with a tranquilizer.

I woke up in a dimly lit, unfamiliar room with 2 beds and sparse furnishings.  I slowly, groggily, walked into the bathroom, and tried to look at myself in the metal mirror over the sink.  I was still dressed in the clothes I was admitted in, and it was cold in the room.  I was wearing a spaghetti strap tank top, a mini skirt and no shoes.  My underwear had been soiled, more than likely during my struggle with the staff, and I threw them into the trash can.  I felt like I had been stripped of everything, including my baby.  I had no rights and I was stuck in a strange place against my will.

So, this is how my first (unfortunately, it happened more than once) two week stay at a psychiatric hospital began.  There is much more to the nightmare that unfolded before our eyes, but that will have to be for another day.  Stay tuned for Part 3……………