Trading the Wine Witch for Mother

Waking up each morning with a pounding headache and an upset stomach was normal when my life was controlled by my internal WINE WITCH. I was used to that hang-anxiety hitting me when I opened my eyes. But on this particular morning, I did not reach for my phone or see my husband laying next to me in bed. Instead, all I could hear was my new roommate throwing up in the bathroom while a nurse with a big smile sat on my bed saying “are you ready to start your new life?”

I threw a pillow over my face and started sobbing.

July 2, 2019, my son Jack was born.  His birth would be an experience I will never forget.  After a few big pushes, the doctor looked up at me and asked “do you want to pull him out?”  I was shocked  – I didn’t recall learning how to do this in our “first-timers birthing-class”.  But I reached down and pulled Jack out of me.  I was amazed as the beautiful boy cuddled up to my chest -  wrapped in his little blanket, his warmth, his smell, his little fingers wrapped around mine, it was incredible, magical. 

As the first days passed with Jack, I started to feel an overwhelming sense of uncertainty, and anxiety. I felt panic rise in me about having this tiny human and being responsible for him. When they discharged us, I was scared. What was I thinking? Who did I think I was? I couldn't take care of this baby. 

At home, the routine began - breast feeding, changing diapers, pumping, sleeping, feeding, changing more diapers, pumping, sleeping.  But something felt off - of course I loved this baby and I would do anything to protect him, but I felt numb. Why was I not radiating joy & love?? In the days that followed, depression grew. One night after feeding Jack, I sat for hours thinking the best thing I could do for him was pack up all this stuff, and take him back to the hospital - the nurses could take better care of him.

My husband, Garrett, had been by my side the entire time. He noticed my blank stare, and grew concerned about my distance. We consulted with my OB, I started medication and therapy for my PPD and anxiety. Slowly I started to feel better and enjoy my time with Jack. Even though I was doing all these things:  therapy, medication, daily walks with my family, talking to my mom everyday – she assured me that it would get better and that I was doing an amazing job - but I still feared my ability to be a mother.  

Trying to grasp onto something that would make me feel normal again, I turned to my old friend Pinot Noir. 

Alcohol has always given me comfort, starting back to an early age. The first sip brought instant relief. It calmed the voices in my head, slowed down my racing heart, and allowed me to feel comfortable in my own skin - a place I often wanted to crawl out of. And, so, alcohol slowly became part of my treatment plan. 

Turning to alcohol was easy, everyone was like " Momma needs a drink!” – people would stop by with meals and bottles of wine. I started to worry about how obsessed I was becoming. The way I thought about it all the time, or the way I would do the math in my head “ if I ate at 2pm, and pumped at 3pm, I could have two glasses at 4pm”. It was exhausting - a toxic game of strategy. 

A few years later, we started to try for our second baby, that would help with all my problems, right? I was so relieved once pregnant again, it meant I wouldn’t be drinking and once I had him, it would be different this time. 

It WAS different this time BUT not how I thought. The fucking WINE WITCH - she was now a part of me, sitting  on my shoulder, trying to convince me that I still needed that drink, that it was fine if I had a few glasses of wine while pregnant, My entire pregnancy was me trying to battle her. It wasn’t just me, I had this tiny human in me that I wanted to protect – but the person I needed to protect him from, was me.  

On April 4, 2022, Lee came 3 weeks early, he was small but a healthy and beautiful baby boy. Our family felt complete. 

A few days before I went into labor, my mom was admitted to a hospital in Helena. She was throwing up, unable to get out of bed  – doctors thought it might be her liver and surgery would be needed. I talked to her every day, and she was so excited to meet Lee and kept telling me, “don’t worry about me sweetie, I’ll be fine” just focus on your family.  

The day I got discharged from the hospital, I got a call from my Dad, "honey I hate to do this after you just had a baby, but the doctors ran a bunch of tests on Mom, she has pancreatic cancer and only has a few days to live.” 

I was in the bathroom with the door closed, the only space in the house where I could have a quiet conversation. Lee and Jack were meeting for the first time, and we were getting adjusted to our new family of 4. 

I stood almost unable to move, numb, wanting to crash to the ground and cry – I wanted to crawl into bed and wake up from this nightmare – but, it wasn’t a dream.

Plus, I had a newborn baby and a 2 year old waiting for me in the next room. I pulled myself together - still wearing my depend diapers from the hospital and we loaded the family into the car, and raced to Helena to say goodbye. 

She waited for me – I held her hand, kissed her face and introduced her to baby Lee.  As she held his hand, she said  “he is beautiful, Alanna” and just like that, hours later, she was gone. Just 5 days postpartum I had lost her, my anchor. 

I spiraled –  depression, anxiety and GRIEF, consumed every part of me - I didn’t know how to deal with the pain so the wine witch was back in the driver's seat.  

It was bad – the worse it had ever been. My reflection in the mirror was staggering - “who the fuck are you?” - I was unrecognizable, and miserable. I was isolating, I was lying, I was manipulating people, and as much as I wanted to put my family first, alcohol kept winning. At this point, I was supposed to be enjoying maternity leave with sweet baby Lee but, instead, I ended up in Great Falls for a 20 day stint at an alcohol treatment center but I couldn’t focus on myself while there, all I could think about was my newborn baby and how I needed to be with him. The pain being away from him was truly unbearable. 

Shame consumed every part of me… I acquired some tools while there, but I continued to white-knuckle my life back home. I stayed sober for 4 months. But, addiction is strange, it convinces you that nobody understands you  – and it’s NOT THAT BAD. The wine witch voice was overpowering every thought again and she convinced me that one drink was a good idea.

Alcohol was the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing when I went to bed, every day I would wake up, today is the day I won’t drink. Some days I was successful, but most days I was not. 

My marriage was suffering. I watched the light fade from my husband as the joy was sucked out of me. When he would come home from work he’d search my eyes for the tell-tale signs - My quick blinks would betray my words and my evasive behavior was sketchy. He knew every time. I remember loved ones saying “you just have to stop” “ you’re strong enough” “You’re going to lose your family” – but the WINE WITCH would muffle their voices.  

I started seeing an addictions counselor, and joined an outpatient program. But, secretly I was still drinking. I would hide wine all over my house - the closet, the bathroom pantry, my dresser, my car, and even outside the house. I did it so much, I would forget where I even hid it. I would take bags of wine bottles to random dumpsters or gas station garbage cans to hide the evidence  - like what in the hell was wrong with me?

One evening, my husband came home, and I was drunk.  He packed up the kids and left for his mother’s house.  By the look in his eyes I knew that he was done – and the shame and disappointment I felt was overwhelming. 

Sitting at home alone, I started to convince myself that I would never get this -  my family didn’t deserve it.  Garrett was so amazing - a super Dad, seriously - he and the kids would be fine, better actually, without ME.  

As I considered leaving this world for good, I still had a small voice inside me:  “this isn’t it, keep fighting”.  It may have been my mom- I always feel her around me and a small voice saying, give it one more shot……REHAB, AGAIN! 

“I can’t do it again!”  I’m a mom, leaving my family (for 30 days this time!) and having to tell my work – what would they think of me, what kind of piece of shit mother does this?  The spiral of shame was plummeting but I couldn’t live another day like this…….

When I woke up the next morning, alone, my house was so quiet, and I made a call to a treatment center in Colorado. They surprisingly had an opening and wanted me to come  that day, she said to book the next flight. And so I did. Within a few hours, I said goodbye to my family and was at the airport. I was giving it my last shot and if I failed, I had my backup plan. 

My last drink was at the airport bar. On the plane, the sweet old lady next to me, offered me a banana to try to help with my uncontrollable crying. I declined and sunk my head down, trying to process this reality. 

Saying goodbye to my family was gut wrenching and I hoped that I was making the right choice.   

Treatment was hard – I missed my babies and the uncertainty of my marriage haunted me but during that time, I finally had the space to deal with the grief of my past self, grief of saying goodbye to alcohol, and grief of the sudden loss of my mom.

During my time in treatment, I met other Mom’s JUST LIKE ME – we spent time in the evenings crying about missing our family, questioning the impact we’ve caused on them, and wondering if they will ever forgive us.  

As the days and weeks went by in treatment, the fog slowly lifted, the clouds parted, and the wine witch's voice softened.  I knew she was still in there, and it took a lot of work to resist her, but I built the tools needed to take back CONTROL. 

After 30 days, I was going home with lots of mixed emotions.  Of course, I couldn’t wait to see my family but I was scared.  The real work was about to begin and I couldn’t fuck it up this time. 

The first year of sobriety was a rollercoaster – learning to sit in discomfort and knowing it will pass, telling myself that I’m strong, not giving in to the wine witch who will forever be part of me. I was finally learning who I was, what I liked, I started to trust myself again, and I built back my confidence.  

I was ashamed to tell people I went to treatment for fear of judgement but, as I started to have the courage to share my story, I found that others are struggling with their own relationships with alcohol. Asking for help SAVED ME - and I’m so thankful I listened to that voice and gave it another try.  

I now wake up feeling good and no longer have the cloud of hang-xiety. I’m present with my boys. My marriage is strong. My energy is focused on my family & health. I no longer have to play the moderation game in my head - what a sense of freedom.  I’ve replaced Pinot Noir with real self care, especially yoga which has allowed me to deal with my anxiety and depression in a more productive way.

And, the best part of this journey is that my kids won’t ever see an intoxicated mom, they will see a strong, confident and fierce protector who fought to break the cycle of addiction.  Alcoholism has ransacked my family for decades.  Still to this day, I watch my closest loved ones struggle. I know my mom is PROUD that someone finally had the courage to speak up and FIGHT - so I can proudly stand here today and say I have 850 days SOBER.

~Alanna Rhinard