Thanks for the messages.
To be honest, I'm not really sure that it relates to anything. To try to explain it as simply as I can, basically I had a really seriously abusive childhood with a father who was a counsellor and an alcoholic and used to have terrible remorse about his actions when sober, and I would be expected to tell him in great detail how awful he had made me feel etc but only if I would immediately tell him that I also forgave him and understood he acted as he did because of his own suffering. The I would be "love bombed" for being so "forgiving" and such a good girl etc, though in reality I was afraid and playing a role.
My mother also suffered mental health issues, and the key thing in our house was that no matter how severely inappropriately someone behaved, you had to deal with it in the way most people deal with everyday arguments e.g. my mother vanished one night when I was 11 after we had a fight about homework and didn't come back til the next day, then breezed in and said sorry after I had been up all night clutching a knife under my pillow terrified and crying and explained it was because she really needed a break from me, at which point I made her a cup of tea and apologised for being so trying. You get the picture. It was just deeply fucked up.
Over the years, I've done a fair bit of work on it in therapy etc and I have carved out a happy and very functional life in general. I have a wonderful supportive husband who is my soulmate, a beautiful son, a decent career and a handful of good friends, but in pregnancy, it all comes undone.
The OCD seems to relate to the fact that at some point in my youth I made a subconscious decision that the only way to be happy in life was to always mentally believe the worst was likely to avoid having to look forward to things and then have my hopes dashed and that if I could only learn to be positive and accepting of terrible things, then somehow magically they would stop happening. Out of pregnancy, I have overcome this (or thought I had?) but I really struggle with it when pregnant.
It's total nonsense and very childish, but deeply ingrained. In pregnancy, it becomes really acute because I become obsessed with the baby dying/me dying in labour/really graphic violent images of pain and suffering occurring to me or the baby or my husband (e.g. crashing on the way to the hospital etc) because I know in a much greater way than with other traumas that if anything DID happen to me or to the baby that it would NOT be okay and could not be rationalised, and that it is not something I could just "get over"... so I go into a bit of a tailspin about it, plus feel INCREDIBLY guilty that I even think these things when other women actually have these things happen and this is all in my mind. I feel really disgusted and ashamed of my thinking, and also have this terror that I am "troubling trouble before it troubles me" and that by doing so I will "cause" the death of my baby, son or husband (though I appreciate again, rationally, that this is ludicrous).
It's like a split. There is rational, together, sorted me who sees this is ridiculous waging a war with fear and anxiety and thinking "but what if? what if I'm right and this IS the only way to stop my baby from dying?".
It's not rational, it's OCD. It means nothing, it's OCD. I can see and understand this logically, I can appreciate it, I get that it is not real and that it is a product of an upbringing characterised by terror and abuse and that that terror and abuse are no longer there. But because it IS uncertain and out of control and unpredictable, it triggers all of these crazy feelings which I really find hard to manage. It's like pregnancy just lowers my defences and ability to fight against it, so everything becomes a million times worse.
This is obviously FAR too complicated to explain to most health professionals and I really don't think they "get" the depth of my torment because I look fine on the outset. I am not wearing dirty clothing with matted hair or looking wild eyed or appearing to have lost touch with reality. The supervisor of midwives actually said to me: "don't worry, you're not one of the mad ones. Believe me, I know what the mad ones look like, and you're not one of them"
.
Except, of course, I sort of am.