When You’re Still in Shock

There’s a moment after you hear the words, maybe it’s in a quiet room, maybe through a screen, maybe surrounded by people who seem to keep talking when your world has just stopped.  Your mind simply can’t take in what’s happening. Everything sounds distant, and yet unbearably loud. You’re not overreacting. This is what shock feels like. It’s the body’s built-in way of protecting you from information too painful to process all at once.

Right now, you don’t have to make any big decisions. You don’t have to remember every word the doctor said. You don’t even have to understand what any of it means yet. The first step is simply to pause, breathe, let your body catch up with your mind. Shock can make you feel numb, shaky, dizzy, detached, or hyper-focused on small details. You might replay the appointment over and over, or feel like none of it’s real. All of this is normal. Your nervous system is trying to find safety again.

If you can, write down what you remember not because you need to analyze it right now, but because the details will blur later. Note who was in the room, what words or diagnoses were used, and any next steps mentioned. That list doesn’t have to make sense yet. It’s just a way of gently gathering the pieces so that when you are ready, you can return to them.

You may want to tell someone, or you may not. There is no right way to share this kind of news. Sometimes, saying it out loud makes it real before you’re ready; other times, keeping it in feels unbearable. Choose a safe person, someone who can listen without trying to fix it. You deserve to be met with calm and compassion, not panic or pity. If you don’t have that person yet, you can pause here. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.

Once this sinks in, you’ll notice small windows of clarity. That’s when you can start to take one step at a time. Scheduling a follow-up, and writing down questions for your doctor or it’s just deciding what you’ll eat for dinner. These are all forward movements, no matter how small. Healing starts in moments like this, when you do the next gentle thing, not the perfect thing.

You may find yourself alternating between calm and panic. One hour you feel okay, the next you feel like you’re drowning again. This rhythm is part of trauma processing. The brain moves back and forth between feeling and numbing, between trying to understand and needing to rest. Let it. You are not backsliding; you are surviving.

If you’re reading this and wondering how you’ll ever make sense of any of it, know that you won’t have to do it all at once. Over time, the shock will soften into something else maybe anger, grief, or acceptance. Each stage brings new clarity and strength. But for now, it’s enough to simply be here. You are allowed to not know what to do next. You are allowed to be human in the middle of something inhuman.

Take a breath. Feel your feet on the ground. You are not alone in this.

1. Take Notes Immediately.

Write down what you remember from the appointment, even small pieces. The details blur later, and it helps doctors fill in gaps.

2. Ask for a Summary Call.

Once you’ve processed, request a follow-up call to restate what was discussed and clarify next steps.

3. Bring Someone to Every Appointment.

Whether a partner, parent, or friend, a second set of ears helps you retain information and feel less alone.

4. Start a “Questions Log.”

Keep one running list in your phone or notebook so you can add questions as they come and reference them at appointments.

5. Take Breaks from Google.

Limit research to short sessions and stick to credible sites (Children’s Hospitals, NIH, Fetal Health Foundation, etc.).

6. One-Step-a-Day Rule.

Choose one small, clear action each day, call, email, rest. It helps rebuild a sense of control.