Tag Archives: motherhood

Breathing It All In

When I think back to the days and weeks after C was born, I don’t remember that much. I was trying desperately to breastfeed, but felt like I was failing. Hubster and I were extremely sleep deprived. C developed colic around his second week of life. He needed to be held in order to sleep. I remember a lot of crying, a lot of stress, a lot of frustration, a lot of uncertainty in my ability to raise a human being.

Some of that, I’m sure, was normal. Becoming a first-time parent is a scary thing. It can be overwhelming, especially when you’re dealing with a colicky baby. I wonder how much of it, though, had to do with PPD. When did it begin for me? I can only pinpoint when things got noticeably worse, but I don’t know when the firestorm started.

This time is different. Maybe it’s because I’m more confident in my parenting ability. Maybe the medication I started last month is doing its job of keeping my brain chemistry balanced. Maybe this time I realize how quickly babies grow and I want to take in every moment.

It’s probably a little of each. I’m thankful to have this second chance to breathe in all of the littleness that is Baby Jo. Her tiny fingers, the noises she makes when she drinks her bottle, the way she sometimes peeks at us through one slightly open eyelid.

Being able to breathe it all in this time is bittersweet. I wish I had been more present with C. The bond that he and I share shows me that I didn’t fail him, but I wonder if my own guilt will always be there. I’m so grateful for the knowledge, preparation and support I’ve had this time around. This time will be different, and it already is.

Having Another Baby After a Postpartum Mood Disorder by Dr. Jessica Michaelson {Guest Post}

I Was Less Excited Than Everyone Else

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Today, I’m linking up with Shell from Things I Can’t Say for Pour Your Heart Out Wednesday.

One week ago, I had an appointment at my OBGYN for a typical pregnancy checkup. If the ultrasound technician was available, they would also check for the baby’s gender since Baby Deuce’s legs were crossed during the 20-week ultrasound. Going into the appointment, I didn’t know if the technician would be available and, even if she was, if Baby Deuce would cooperate.

I wasn’t going to get my hopes up again. Last month, I was so excited only to be crushed that we weren’t able to find out what we were having. I also very much wanted a boy at that point, but the month of forced patience caused that desire to wane. Now I just wanted to know what we were having and I thought I would be happy either way.

When the technician told me last week that it’s a girl, I cried a little. At first I was happy because we had already picked out our name for a girl. Baby Deuce would now have a name. That fleeting happiness was followed quickly by an almost mournful feeling. I would never have another boy.

Despite my desire to have three or four children, Hubster and I decided that this will need to be our last pregnancy. I honestly don’t think I could survive another HG pregnancy. The first one was horrible and this second one has been, at times, near torture. I think that no matter what the gender of Baby Deuce was, I would have reacted the same way because I have always dreamed I would have more than one child of each gender.

I wanted to have a brother for C. I also wanted him to have a sister.

I’m so grateful for the excitement and love showered upon our announcement by family and friends. I wish I could share in it. I think I first need to go through this mourning period while my idea of what my family would look like changes into the reality of what my family will look like. I am happy to be having this girl, and I will love her just as much as I love C. It’s just hard to come to terms with the fact that this will be our last baby. There’s a finality to it that saddens me.

My Sweet Boy

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I’m crazy about my little boy. He does this sweet thing where he puts his hands on my face, and pulls my face close to his for kisses or snuggles. It melts my heart in ways I can’t describe.

Here are a couple of my favorite pictures from our trip. He’s the best.

Giving mama a kiss at Animal Kingdom.

Meeting Lightning McQueen and Tow Mater at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.

Changing Expectations {No More Perfect Moms}

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I have always had very high expectations for myself. Because of that, it’s always been difficult not to have high expectations of others. I’m discovering that I project high expectations on my child sometimes. I feel terrible about that, and I want to change it quickly.

I’m honored to announce that I have been selected as a member of the “No More Perfect Moms” launch team. Jill Savage has written this fantastic book, and it will be released on February 4, 2013. While we were on vacation, I had the opportunity to start reading it and I am so thrilled to be able to share its wonderful message with you.

On our plane ride back from Orlando, during the 20 minutes that C had tired himself out enough to nap, in between the screaming, fit throwing and whining, I read the chapter titled, “No More Perfect Kids.” There really couldn’t have been a better time to read Jill’s words than at that moment.

Such a beautiful reminder: There are no perfect kids.
-Jill Savage, “No More Perfect Moms”

It was like a gentle slap on my hand. I had been expecting too much of my 20-month-old. I went into that trip thinking that my worst fear would be him screaming on the plane. But that’s what we’ve struggled with for months, and nothing has worked. He screams. It’s a phase he’s going through. He’s only 20 months old. He’s not perfect.

Because there are no perfect kids.

From that point on, I still found myself embarassed by his behavior; but I was also defensive of it. How could anyone expect a toddler to maintain perfect behavior throughout a 2.5-hour flight? It’s unrealistic.

Because there are no perfect kids.

I’m continually working on changing my expectations, and I’m grateful to Jill and her important message for encouraging me to do so.

You can learn more about “No More Perfect Moms” here, and you can sign up for the 31-day email challenge!

The Day I Tried To Make a Fort

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When Hubster left for work yesterday, he said he wouldn’t be home until 8:30pm. After the door closed behind him, I panicked. There was *SO* much time in the day!

I put out a plea for creative indoor activities (it was raining here yesterday) on Facebook, and my lovely friend Andrea, of Postpartum and Pigtails, gave me some awesome ideas. One of them was to build a fort. I immediately got flashbacks of building forts as a kid and knew I had to try that!

I pulled one of the blankets off of our bed, brought some chairs into the living room and attempted to build a tent. The center of the blanket kept sagging. Ugh. I tried to attach the blanket to higher places. I wanted to tape it to the wall, but I wasn’t sure if we’re allowed to use tape (or only certain kinds?) on our walls. Damn residence hall apartment living.

I did what I could. C loved it for the 15 seconds it lasted before he tore it apart.

I situated the blanket again. And again, he loved it for the 15 seconds before he wrapped himself up in the blanket, destroying the fort.

The fort was a failure.

I cried.

An Emergency Cesarean and the Scars That Remain

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After C was born, it didn’t cross my mind right away that I had experienced a traumatic delivery. I think I was in shock from it all, and just relieved that it was over. While I generally don’t think about his birth and the events that led to my emergency cesarean, there are certain triggers that bring it up for me.

Whenever someone I know has a baby, particularly via vaginal delivery, I’m hit with feelings of envy and jealousy. This is not to say that I am not happy for them. I would never wish my experience on anyone; I simply would have liked to experience a healthy vaginal delivery myself. Or even have the option of a future VBAC.

I still have feelings of inadequacy over my emergency cesarean.

After experiencing labor for three days, I was finally admitted to the hospital and given pitocin. I slowly progressed over 13 hours and then pushed for 2.5 hours. The on-call OBGYN came in to evaluate and said that I was at about 9.5cm and not completely dilated. He considered it a failure to progress. C was stuck. He ordered an emergency cesarean.

Then they capped off my epidural to prepare to move me to the operating room.

The epidural wore off well before I was moved to the OR. I was literally blinded by the pain. Nurses came and went, someone poked me with a needle, someone shaved whatever I hadn’t had the ability to see at 40+ weeks pregnant, consent forms were shoved at me and somehow, between the screams and inability to see, I signed them. I yelled out in pain, over and over again. Nurses reassured me that we were moving to the OR. Hang in there. Don’t push. Ok, maybe you can push if you need to. You’re okay. More screaming. So much pain. Do I push or not? They brought Hubster two shirt scrubs, no pants. He asked for pants.

Finally, I was wheeled to the OR. They hooked me up to another epidural. Only one side of my body went numb. Oh my dear Lord, I’m going to feel everything on the other side. They strapped me down. They tipped me on the table to help get the medicine to the other side. I thought I was going to fall off the table. They put the curtain up.

Finally, I was numb.

So cold, shivering. Shaking. Could barely keep my eyes open or focus on anything anymore, my vision blurred from exhaustion and pain. Hubster appeared next to me. I could not stop shaking.

Beeping monitors, machines, voices of busy nurses and doctors. So many nurses and doctors. I was completely exposed on the table, having my insides cut open. You’re going to feel some pressure. They pulled and prodded at my insides to get C out.

Ouch, so much pressure. The vaginal canal is definitely one place that the epidural did not reach.

C cried. Congratulations! You have a baby boy!

He aspirated meconium in the womb. A flurry of activity. They show him to me briefly, but I can’t focus my eyes on him. All that, and all I could make out with my blurry vision was the outline of my child. I noticed his cone-shaped head from being stuck in the birth canal.

They whisked him off to the NICU. Hubster went with him.

It’s so cold. I feel pressure. They’re cleaning out my womb. Stitching up my broken body. I’m being wheeled to recovery.

My medicine is wearing off again.

I need pain medication. Where is some pain medication? I feel everything. It’s okay, we’re ordering some morphine for you. The nurse is on the phone trying to get me morphine. They’re not bringing it. I feel everything. How is it so difficult to get morphine in a hospital next to the L&D OR?!

It hurts. Oh God, it hurts.

An excruciating hour later, I get my morphine. Hubster wheels C into the room and they place him on my chest. I finally get to see my boy. I wish I could hold him. I’m so sad that I can’t hold my child, but I have to lie there.

The rest of our hospital stay is kind of a blur. It was less eventful, less traumatic. Looking back on my experience, I don’t have complaints about the care I received. The nurses were fantastic; the doctor was an excellent surgeon. Despite the trauma, postpartum depression and anxiety, my body healed well.

They should have handled my medication better.

After my surgery, the doctor that performed the cesarean told me that it was absolutely necessary. He discovered that my pelvis was too small for my child to fit through. Even if I had dilated that last half centimeter. Even if I had pushed for another hour. It never would have happened.

I will never be able to birth a child without medical intervention. The feelings of inadequacy nag me. I think that is where the jealousy and envy stems from whenever a friend or family member births a child. I think there is this deep-rooted culture that being able to have a vaginal birth, particularly without drugs, makes you some kind of super mother, able to perform the task that your body was designed to do.

I don’t know why that culture has influenced me to make me feel inadequate. It’s a constant struggle to believe what I know to be true. That is, if it weren’t for modern medicine, my son and I would not be here. That’s a powerful thought. My physical scar is a battle scar, but it is also a testament to the love I have for my child. I do not love him any less, nor am I any less of a mother, because he entered this world via cesarean. I am a mother. I love my child. I would do anything for him, and did. I, too, am a warrior mom.

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I’m linking up today with Pour Your Heart Out Wednesday via Things I Can’t Say and Be Enough Me via Just Be Enough.

Contentment

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I usually take the path less traveled, and my journey to motherhood was no different. If you’re not familiar with my story, I’ll give you the abridged version. In July 2010, I was told I had PCOS (polycystic ovaries) and it would be difficult for me to conceive children. In August, I started graduate school and a graduate assistantship only to find out a week later that – surprise! – I was pregnant. I ended up with hyperemesis and was so ill that I could hardly leave our apartment. In early October, I was forced to withdraw from graduate school, thereby losing my job as well. I spent the majority of April 2011 experiencing false labor, and then after 2.5 hours of pushing I ended up with an emergency c-section on April 29. A long, slow spiral into postpartum depression ensued, but wasn’t diagnosed until December 2011.

Most people associate pregnancy and childbirth with joy. For me, it came with sacrifice, life-changes and emotional devastation. I had a very difficult time adjusting to stay-at-home-motherhood. The isolation was awful at times, and only fed my PPD.

So why is this post titled, “Contentment?” Well, folks, I’ve finally reached it. Just in this past week after getting settled in our new city, I’ve realized that my heart is content.

It has taken me 14 months since C’s birth, but I have finally embraced my role as a stay-at-home mom to an adventurous, loving boy. I’m enjoying every day that I get to be with him. I’m soaking up all of his hugs, kisses and laughter. I delight in the moments that I get to hold my sweet son. He fills me with joy and love – emotions that I can truly feel now.

I’ve reached the point of knowing that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

I have to admit that part of me feels guilty that it has taken this long. Fourteen months is a long time. But mostly, I’m just so happy to be in this place. I feel like a warrior. I’ve battled postpartum depression with all of the fight that I had in me, and I’ve won. Contentment is my proof.

There are still challenges ahead, but I’m learning so much about coping with stress and anxiety. Healing continues to be an active learning experience. I’m so grateful for the people in my life who have stood with me; and for the fellow mamas with postpartum mood disorders who have taught me so much about support, love, strength and healing.

The journey continues, friends. Let’s walk with our heads held high.

Things I’m Afraid to Tell You: 10 Things About Pregnancy and Early Motherhood

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Today, I’m joining the Things I’m Afraid To Tell You linkup! Thank you to Jess Constable, who came up with this idea, as well as Ez of Creature Comforts, who turned it into a movement. Here is a Huffington Post article on this topic by Laura Rossi. If you’d like to link up with a post, you may do so with the linky at the bottom of this post!

Image Credit: Ez of Creature Comforts

There are certain things about pregnancy and early motherhood that no one speaks about. Perhaps women keep these details from each other in the interest of keeping the human race alive. It’s quite possible.

But I, on the other hand, have always believed in complete honesty. During my pregnancy with C, there were some horrendously truthful posts here. Today I’m going to share with you my top 10 list of things I’m afraid to tell you about pregnancy and early motherhood. I’m afraid to tell you, but I’m going to anyway. Hopefully you won’t swear off parenthood by the time you’re done.

1. Your bladder will never be the same. Sneeze suddenly? Laugh too hard? You better have an extra pair of underwear ready.

2. Stretch marks don’t discriminate. You can slather as much cocoa butter on that bump as you want, but if you’re genetically predisposed to getting stretch marks you’re going to end up with them no matter what you do. Oh, and you may not only get them on your belly, sweetheart. You might find those tiger stripes on your butt, thighs, breasts, calves or arms.

3. Your body shape may change. Even if you lose all of your pregnancy weight, you might find that your hips are still wider than they used to be or your cup size has changed.

4. Your breasts will never be as perky as they used to be. Unless you have the genes of a Greek goddess, you’ll perpetually look different naked. You’re gonna need to strap the girls in a supportive pushup bra (perhaps with padding, if you’re victim to #3) to get the quality of cleavage that you once had.

5. If you end up with a c-section, you may always have a pooch of skin/belly fat between your belly button and incision. Often, even the most dedicated dieter and fitness guru cannot rid herself of the pooch. So long, bikini body. But hey – you created a human, so it’s all good.

6. After giving birth, you’ll still look like you’re about 5 months pregnant. Your uterus is stretched out and takes weeks to shrink back to its original size. Which leads to number 7…

7. You’ll still need your maternity clothes for a while post-delivery. It’s a little devastating finally birthing your child and not being able to squeeze your postpartum ass into your pre-pregnancy jeans. Take heart in knowing that every mom has been there.

8. That sweet little newborn that slept all the time will soon be up at all hours of the night. Our pediatrician likes to say that babies “wake up” at around two weeks of age. They start to cry a lot, and new parents suddenly wonder what’s wrong. Day/night confusion is very common. Be prepared to run on painfully little sleep!

9. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows. We live on a college campus, and sometimes when students were like, “Ooooh, I want one,” I wanted to invite them over at 3am when our son was awake, for the fourth time, crying. Yes, babies are amazingly adorable; but they are also an enormous amount of work. They poop. A lot. They cry. A lot.

10. As soon as you think you’ve figured everything out, they’ll change things up on you. Just when you’ve mastered a sleep routine, your baby will start teething and be thrown from their schedule. When you begin to get confident, they’ll become mobile and suddenly it’s a whole new game. Parenting keeps you on your toes!

Okay, so are you still planning on becoming a parent someday? Don’t let this list scare you! I want you to be prepared, but I will also say this. Parenting is pretty much the coolest experience a person could ever have. Experiencing that amazing love and bond with your child is amazing. It’s the most difficult thing you’ll ever do, but the good far outweighs the bad. It has to or no one would do it, right?

Mother’s Intuition

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Last week, I had my first experience with mother’s intuition. It makes me smile thinking about it.

We dropped C off with my parents the week of our move, so that he wouldn’t be getting into boxes and cleaning products as we prepared to leave our apartment. He did really well with them, and we made sure we Skyped every day until moving day.

When we moved and realized we didn’t have data on our phones or internet service, I was sad that I couldn’t see my baby and tell him that we’d come get him in two days. I woke up the day after our move and was so depressed. I was in the pit of my PPD and couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. The reason? I missed my son so much. Hubster and I decided to go pick up C a day early and surprise him.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, C had woken up that morning and stared solemnly at a family picture of us while he ate his breakfast. After breakfast, he grabbed that picture and carried it around with him. He even kissed it! My parents said it was the first time all week he had done that, and they knew that he’d had enough and wanted mama and dada back.

When we saw C, we gave him a big hug and almost instantly, I felt complete again. I was amazed when I heard the story about C and our picture. It was like I innately knew that we had to go get him that day. Mother’s intuition. Quite an amazing thing!

Have you experienced mother’s intuition?

Oh No, It’s April!

You’re Doing Okay, Mom

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One of my Facebook friends posted this video, and I loved it so much that I wanted to share it with you all. Enjoy.