Birth Trauma

During one of my mindless scrolls through Instagram, I came across a page about birth trauma. I found myself looking at post after post and realizing that so many women have birth trauma. I never even heard this term before.

I knew Penny’s birth hurt me in alot of ways. It was not what I wanted for myself or for her. In the weeks that followed, I found myself unable to deal with what happened. I requested my files from the hospital to try and make sense of what happened. And even after I read every word of the doctors notes, I still couldn’t process it. I was still so sad.

Even now, more than waking up alone and confused that next morning, I am sad for Penny, who was immediately swept away from her parents after being born. I saw her briefly before I heard the shouting and before they put me under and shoved my husband out of the room. Where did my baby go in those moments?

She spent 9 months living in my body. She knew my voice. She knew my heartbeat. She knew I was keeping her safe. It breaks my heart to think that just after being ripped from that safe place in my body, that she was quite possibly alone in the nursery. And for that whole first night until I woke up. It was another day or so before I could be moved from ICU and I could only see my baby when a nurse had free time to bring her down to me.

It hurts me that she was in that little glass box instead of laying on me. It hurts me that years later, I think the doctors made mistakes. She wasn’t ready to be born and it should not have been forced. I was just so excited to have my baby. I should have questioned things.

Trauma affects people in many ways. I know I had a good life so far. I never doubted my parents love for me. I was given the best opportunities available to me. I never fell in with the wrong crowds. On paper, it all looks great.

But among the happy days, are the harder ones. I find myself closed off more than I want to be. I feel defensive. I feel stuck.

I think the birth trauma has brought up other traumatic things that I previously ignored. I think it might be time to figure out how to process all of it.

I have a lovely life. But truthfully, it is not the life I had pictured for myself before the birth trauma. I had wanted multiple children. I wanted to work. I wanted to still have date nights and go on small weekends getaways. But all of that changed that night. I could no longer bear the thought of being away from my child. I couldn’t trust anyone to care for her like I did. Only just this month, almost 3 and a half years later, did I let someone besides me or my husband put her to bed.

A lot changes when you become a mom. You lose alot of the woman you once were. But a traumatic birth completely changed me as a human. I became fearful and anxious. I barely slept for years because I would wake up at every little sound she made while sleeping. I checked the monitor dozens of times.

It seems there is no space in todays world for some of these feelings. Moms are expected to just get on with it and be happy that everything turned out okay. They’re expected to go back to work when their babies are still newborns. They’re expected to feel joyful all the time. We give so much grace to people who go through other traumatic experiences, but somehow motherhood isn’t treated the same. Where are we supposed to go? How are we supposed to process the bad stuff? Moms everywhere are asking for help and instead being told that they are “so strong” or “warriors”. Yes our bodies are amazing. Yes motherhood is something to feel grateful for. But sometimes it is lonely and dark and painful and we shouldn’t have to pretend otherwise.

I think I am still grieving everything I lost that day… the experiences, the bonding moments, the life I thought I was going to have, the possibility of more children. It is all gone.

I am different now.

❤️

My Big Girl

A couple of weeks ago, Penny moved to a big girl bed. It was unexpected. I had planned to move her sometime this summer, between 3 and 3.5 years old. She’s been a consistently good sleeper since she turned one, and I didn’t want to mess with a good thing.

But suddenly, she started taking off her sleep sack, and climbing out. She thought it was so funny to climb in and out during games of hide and seek and within a few days of that, she would wake up, unbutton her sleep sack, and haphazardly climb out and come find me. It just wasn’t safe anymore and I was feeling anxious about her getting hurt.

So within two days, we pulled the full mattress and base down I had stored from the guest room which got converted to a play room a few years ago. I only had two hours of time to take apart her crib and get her new bed together. I was really nervous about making the switch, but it was seamless.

She was SO excited about her new bed. She loved it. She’s been sleeping all night in it with no issues, just like before. In the morning, she sits and waits for her nightlight to change to a green color before getting out. I am thankful it has gone so great. My big girl in her big girl bed.

It has been wonderful watching her grow into a small human with a personality and opinions. She likes to choose her outfits and get her snacks and drinks and cups herself. She loves pretend play. She is creative and imaginative. My big girl.

The flip side of all of this, is the parting of things. Her birth was extremely traumatic for me. I still have not dealt with the trauma of it, and instead shoved it deep down where I like to keep all the things I don’t want to deal with. The newborn phase was so hard. For me, it lasted almost a whole year. I could not find joy in a lot of it. I know that’s a weird thing to admit, because I fought so hard to conceive her. And I am grateful. And I am thankful. But man, I was not prepared for what it would do to me mentally.

So all along, I have been saying that I am one and done. Physically, I don’t know if my body could do it again after the trauma. Mentally…. well, that was a very dark place. And so I have committed myself to saying that I’m good with one. And that is true. She is enough. I don’t want to share all the love and time another. I like having a little girlfriend by my side.

One and done means not holding on to the baby items. And there are so many baby items. Aside from some sentimental clothes, I have gotten rid of everything. Either by passing down or selling, they have made their way into other peoples homes.

All I have left is the high chair, the pack n play, and the crib. I have found a home for them. An outreach program that helps homeless and victims of domestic violence has a client who needs these items and is being moved to an apartment next month.

For some reason, I am feeling sad and hesitant to get rid of her crib. I know it has better use in this woman’s new home than in my garage, but it feels very final. Like “one and done” isn’t just a thing I’ve committed myself to saying. Having the crib gone is the end of my baby being a baby. It’s a confusing thing to feel because I don’t miss having an actual baby. I don’t miss the sleepless nights. I don’t miss how sad and lonely I felt. But getting rid of the crib is the most emotional I’ve felt about getting rid of any of her things and I’m not sure what to do with it.

There are times when my brain is fried from all the pretend play and I suddenly wish she had a sibling to play with. She’s such a social kid too. She loves going up to other kids and playing with them and following them around. She loves having friends and play dates, and definitely has enough of them so I’m not worried about her being antisocial. I think she’s happy having all my attention. I hope so, at least.

Having a sibling isn’t always just having a friend to play with tho. Sometimes it’s more complicated. There is fighting and arguing. Hell, I am in my mid 30s and don’t even speak to my brother. Having a sibling isn’t always glitter and rainbows. Sometimes it just hurts.

So I don’t know why I’m feeling so sad about getting rid of these final things. I am unsure where to place these feelings.

❤

My patient Patient

Penny had another breathing episode the other day. It had been months since she needed to be hospitalized. Normally, she gets some kind of mild cold that quickly goes into her lungs. We had been able to manage at home with albuterol through her nebulizer the last couple times and that always seemed to help her catch her breath.

This time however, it happened out of nowhere.

We had a great afternoon at a local farm, playing games and wandering around. She had a blast. We got home, ate dinner and put her to bed. About two hours after she fell asleep, she woke up coughing, to the point that she was gagging. I went in and offered her water but she just wanted to be snuggled. I held her for awhile but she was wheezing. I figured maybe it was allergies from the farm and gave her a breathing treatment. That seemed to help and she fell back asleep. She woke often in the night to cough.

In the morning, she was wheezing again, so I did another breathing treatment. It didn’t seem to help and I was getting worried so I decided to take her to another branch of the pediatrician’s office that has walk-in hours on a Sunday. After driving almost a half hour there, the line was out the door. There was no way she was going to be seen. I turned around and drove back home. I figured I would monitor her and continue treatments. She was upset and crying and tired. I held her in my bed and she dozed off for a little bit.

But soon things became emergent. She seemed in distress. I texted an old friend who is an ER nurse down at CHOP in the city and she urged me to take her somewhere.

I called an ambulance to the house. The local hospital is only 15 mins away but I couldn’t deal with having to strap her in her car seat while so upset and breathing poorly. And I was worried we would have to wait whereas if arriving by ambulance, you are taken right back and they are advised of the situation before arrival.

The ambulance was there within minutes. They strapped her up to the stretcher and monitors and I rode with her. She was looking pale and fell asleep. She woke up and vomited all over herself before falling back asleep.

When we got to hospital they put more monitors on her and changed her into a clean gown. They did lots of tests and took X-rays. She was given multiple breathing treatments and steroids and oxygen. She kept dozing off in between doctor check ins. She vomited again. At one point, she was able to eat an electrolyte ice pop and she loved it.

They diagnosed her with reactive airways disease, which is really just virus induced asthma under the age of 5. After a few hours, her breathing settled and the ER pediatrician gave the okay to be discharged. I really wanted to be able to take her home instead of having to stay overnight which the other doctors were thinking might happen.

As we walked out to the car, her breathing worsened again. I immediately thought we should take her back in. I let myself take her home though, thinking she would do better in her own home and I would just continue her treatments.

She fell asleep in the car and I sat and waited a half hour for her to wake up. She cried for awhile when she did and was hot and sweaty. I regretted not turning back into the hospital. I did another breathing treatment and got her to eat something before getting her to bed.

Over the next two days, she got breathing treatments every 4 hours, day and night. She was a trooper with the overnight treatments. I really thought she would struggle with falling back asleep but she went right back down every time. She is also receiving oral steroids twice a day.

I had a follow up appointment with her pediatrician today. Because of her newly diagnosed asthma, and with cold and flu season gearing up, she will be on inhaled steroids twice a day indefinitely. This will hopefully act as a preventive measure for any colds she catches so it won’t immediately attack her lungs and we can manage with breathing treatments at home when needed and hopefully avoid hospital visits.

She is such a trooper. Even the morning after her hospital visit; after I’d woken her up multiple times that night for treatments; she was happy to see me and asking for Lucky Charms.

There is nothing sadder than seeing your kid sick, and nothing scarier than when they can’t breathe right.

I’m thankful she is resilient and wants to play Barbies even when she’s not feeling well. I’m thankful she is patient with me, even when I’m not with her. I’m thankful she takes her treatments in stride for the most part. I’m thankful to be a stay at home mom so I can take care of her and not have other things to worry about. I am thankful for my hardworking husband who doesn’t snap back at me when I lose my temper in moments of stress and who provides for us so that money is not a thought when it comes to Penny’s care.

I am not always the greatest daughter or friend or wife but I have given my whole self into being Penny’s mom and I know at least, I am a good mom most of the time. I am not always a person that I recognize anymore, but I hope Penny will always see that she came first. I hope she doesn’t remember when I’ve gotten upset with her or been short with her. Sometimes the guilt is suffocating. I lost a lot of who I was when I had Penny and that means different things on different days.

But I want nothing more than for my daughter to be happy and healthy and to always feel that she was wanted and loved.

I am hoping this treatment plan will keep her out of the hospital as much as possible. As annoying as it is to do nebulizer treatments twice a day indefinitely with a toddler, it is a step in the right direction.

Between treatments at the hospital

Already smiling the next morning

❤

The Guilt

It’s been awhile since my last post. I’ve started a few but then deleted them. Sometimes it was about what a great day we had, or how impressed I was with her, but then I’ll have a really difficult day with her and it washes away the good stuff.

This is where I’ve been finding myself lately. Stuck in the bad stuff. I have a lot of guilt about it. I get exactly one hour to myself at Pilates 4 or 5 days a week. All the other hours, I am being followed around by dogs and being clung to by a tiny human.

She has been really clingy lately and I’m not sure why. She wants to be held and sit on me and cries when I leave her eye sight. It is mentally exhausting. I feel guilt for wanting time away. I feel like I am a complete shell of the person I used to be.

And I don’t just mean that I’m no longer getting cocktails with my girlfriends (pandemic aside) like I used to, but my head space is so negative. I’m tired all the time. I never wake up and feel rested. She’s been sleeping through the night for months now, but I’m still not. I’m constantly jerked awake by a small noise she will make or my husband snoring or the dogs.

I’ve turned into this person I don’t recognize. I’m always snapping at my husband. I know it’s wrong the moment I do it. He’s trying to be helpful in ways I’m not finding helpful and I know it’s not his fault I’m so irritated all the time. But it’s easier to blame him and get mad at him than at my toddler who wants more of me than I have to give.

The guilt is overwhelming. Even now, as I write this, Penny is in her crib and crying. I am so broken up about it but I know she’s just tired and needs to go to sleep. If I try and console her, it will only make her more upset. But listening to my kid cry in her room alone guts me.

I am struggling a lot. All I know about myself now is that I’m a mom. All of my time is committed to my child and all of my thoughts are about her well-being, happiness, and schedule. My days consist of timing out her meals, snacks, sleep, and activities. All I am now is a mom. I don’t feel much like a good friend, daughter, or wife. I’m forgetful about texting back or checking in with people that really matter to me.

I feel guilt about how I’ve been treating my husband. I know he doesn’t deserve it. I know he’s trying. Today he gave me a gift for no real reason other than he thought I would like it. And it was a sweet gesture but I didn’t know how to accept it. I definitely didn’t deserve it. I’ve barely given him the time of day or had a real conversation that didn’t revolve around whether or not Penny pooped. I am irritable and frustrated and in the running for world’s worst wife.

I knew becoming a mom would change me. But I didn’t know how hard it would be. I didn’t know that I could possibly feel so lonely when I am never actually alone.

I’m not sure if the person I used to be is still there or if she’s gone forever. I know that I am a good mom, it is my whole life now. But I am not good at being anything else right now and I am saddened deeply by that. I don’t know how to get back the other parts of myself.

Penny did eventually calm down and put herself to sleep. I hope she never thinks I’ve abandoned her or don’t care when she cries. I am always feeling guilty.

❤

The Mom Bod

Last week I had an appointment with an endocrinologist. It took me a lot of phone calls, 40 pages of transferred lab work, and two months of waiting. I was interested in seeing an endocrinologist to help me work out my PCOS symptoms and hypothyroidism.

After my many follow ups with my Obgyn last year after my labor complications, I felt lost with my body. I didn’t really know anything about it anymore, and considering I wasn’t trying to get pregnant again, it seemed like there wasn’t really much to do for my PCOS symptoms. It’s one of those things most doctors don’t treat unless you want to have a baby. Well I had my baby… but now what?

I had originally opted to hold off on going back on birth control right away. I wanted to see if my body got a period on its own, and frankly, I was really tired taking medications all the time. I took pills to get pregnant, I took pills to manage my thyroid, I took pills for pain for weeks after labor. I wanted to know my body again, free of all the extra crap.

In the year following, I did get a period on my own. I was happily surprised! It wasn’t regular, somewhere between every 30-60 days. But my body did it all on its own. Eventually I also got off arthritis medication for my knees.

I started working out, doing Pilates 5 days a week. I lost about 20 pounds (40 since pregnancy). I was feeling better, but was stagnant. Months and months would go by and I didn’t lose any more weight. I didn’t know if everything was still okay.

The endocrinologist listened to me and ordered me more lab work to test for about a dozen other things. I had the blood drawn, about 7 vials, and waited to hear back.

In the mean time, I also had an appointment with the Obgyn… a different one than the two that had seen me through my pregnancy and labor, but she was familiar with me. She had seen me post op in the ICU. I didn’t remember her, but she remembered me. She listened to me too. She also ordered me lab work to test for the breast cancer gene, but that is an entirely different post.

The Obgyn had a hard time examining me. All the scar tissue pulled my uterus and cervix up high. TMI? I’ll stop. At the end of the day, my body is still healing itself. I had my baby. And I don’t plan on having more babies, so I don’t have to worry about the potential hostile environment that was left. It was good of the surgeons to save those organs though, I understand why they did.

A few days later, I heard back from my endocrinologist. I am healthy. So healthy. All of my hormones and levels are within normal range and I am no where near the prediabetic range which most people with PCOS seem to be, considering it can affect insulin levels.

The one interesting find was my type of hypothyroidism, which is called Hashimoto’s. I didn’t even know there were types of it. Similar to any other autoimmune disease, Hashimoto’s means that my body is continuously attacking my thyroid gland and destroying its tissues and reducing the thyroid hormone. Despite sounding horrible, it will just have to be closely monitored and my levothyroxine dosage likely increased over time as my body continues to attack the gland.

So, the good news is, despite feeling tired all the time and the frustrating inability to lose any more weight, I am very healthy. The bad news is, there is really no reason (thyroid aside) for how tired I am, for my lack of weight loss, and other symptoms.

Between the endocrinologist and the Obgyn, I was put back on birth control. It will help keep my hormones level and lower the risk of cervical cancer from irregular cycles.

But I am going to continue taking care of myself. I really enjoy Pilates. I am doing things I didn’t think I could do. I don’t eat great all the time… I still find joy in ice cream and nachos and I don’t want to have to snack on kale chips. But I am still seeing changes in my body. I see new muscles in my legs and arms (also from carrying around my 21 lb toddler). I can even feel abs underneath the dreaded c-section pooch. My face isn’t as puffy. I am healthy on the inside, despite the scale not moving for months.

I feel like I am in a better place with myself and my body than I was a year ago. I understand it more. It is a constant battle not to shame it, but I think that is true of most women.

It was incredibly confusing in the past couple years to find out about being hypothyroid and having PCOS and it leading to infertility when all I wanted was to get pregnant. But I finally feel like I have more answers than questions. I had my baby. My lucky Penny. And I am starting to get to know my body again. It is imperfect and works again me most times but it is still healthy and strong. It grew a human and now swings her around in the yard and runs after her.

It is the only body I get to have, and I am thankful for it in this moment.

❤

One Year

In a few short weeks I will have a toddler.

I don’t know how I survived. I felt lost and tired and anxious for most of it. Having a baby is really hard. No one really tells you that. It’s more than just sleepless nights. It’s constant anxiety about all the choices you have to make. I constantly question and change and try different things trying to figure out what’s best.

In my head, all this time, I told myself I just have to make it to one year. In my head, I told myself I would ease up then. I wouldn’t be so anal about her schedule and her feedings and I would be able to do more and go more places with her. It was my driving force…. the light at the end of the tunnel. One year is fast approaching and I am ready for it.

She finally sleeps! Something I begged the sleep gods for night after night. She naps and she sleeps through the night. I could see it coming. For a few weeks, she would wake up once a night. Then some nights not at all. So the few nights a week she would wake, I would take my time knowing these nights were going to end soon. I rocked her longer. I held her tighter. And then night after night, she didn’t wake anymore. And middle of the night snuggles ended. She stopped whining for me and the comfort of a bottle. She stopped burying her face into my chest to feel my warmth.

Babies are constantly growing and changing. You never know when something is going to be the last time. I really hated most things about the newborn stage. Which is so ironic to me because I wanted a baby so bad. But the thought of ever doing it again is too much for me to wrap my head around. I like looking back on her infant pictures and videos and I adore how cute she was, but I don’t miss it. I have very much enjoyed watching her grow and discover things.

She is so pleased with herself when she figures out something new. Recently she learned how to do a shape sorter puzzle and will stand up without holding on to anything. We practice walking and she giggles the whole time. I am so happy she is getting older. I am so sick of formula and bottles and I am so close to being able to stop them.

She rarely lets me hold her much anymore. She wants to be on the go. She never stops moving. She will sit still for some TV though, but then I have mom guilt about her staring at the TV. Constant anxiety over here.

Despite her sleeping through, I’m still not. I wake up a lot and check the time. I peak at the screen on the monitor and smile at how adorable she looks sleeping on her belly. In those moments, I just want to snuggle her.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever really sleep well again. Maybe it’s just mom brain to constantly be on alert. My heart leaps with every little grunt she might make. Sometimes I’ll confuse the dogs snoring with the sound of her crying and it takes me awhile to place the noise and get my mind to settle again. I never truly feel rested.

My baby is almost a toddler. I won’t say this year went fast. The days were long and the nights even longer. I haven’t loved every moment but I have loved her in a way I didn’t know was possible. My friendships have suffered and I’ve been a terrible wife this year. I have sacrificed so much of myself. And I will continue to do so for her. She is my whole world and I am excited for her to keep growing and discovering. And as long as she’ll let me, I’ll be right beside her through it all.

❤

The Report

Penny has officially spent more time on the outside than the inside. She is 9 months and has been such a joy lately. She is turning into a funny girl with a sweet and happy disposition. She is finally starting to nap well and sleep through the night. She eats well and loves doing everything herself. She is crawling, climbing, standing, walking along furniture and chatting.

9 months has meant a lot of reflection for me. When I think back on my 9 months of being pregnant, it was also such a joy…. right up until about 38 weeks when it started to get uncomfortable. I felt so lucky to be pregnant. I felt special. I felt amazed that my body could form another human being.

And then she was born. I have struggled a lot when thinking about her birth. It makes me sad when I think of how I didn’t get to meet her until the next day. I didn’t get that just born mommy and me photo. Our first photo is me in ICU, barely alert. A nurse brought her down so I could meet her and she placed her in my arm and I could barley move. I didn’t feel joy when she was born. I was scared.

About a month ago, I filled out paperwork to request all medical documents and notes from when she was born. I’d spent so many nights going over her birth and I still couldn’t put the pieces together. I wanted to know how I wound up in the ICU, waking up alone and confused.

I still have flashbacks to those days. Her birth was extremely traumatic for me and even though it was obviously all so worth it, I don’t think I could mentally handle ever doing it again. I don’t even know if my body could physically do it.

Yesterday, a package came for me. Immediately I knew it was my hospital report. It was 122 pages. I read through it after I put Penny to bed.

From what I could understand, a lot of it is how it was told to me. I was induced. I labored over night and into the next afternoon. Around 3:30pm I started pushing. I pushed for 3.5 hours but the baby was stuck, “sunny side up”, so her back was toward my spine. They had tried to turn her head so she would pass through, but she wouldn’t budge.

I went in for a C section. According to the doctors notes, I was cut open normally. When she went to reach and adjust the baby, she flipped into breech position. She was born butt first, then legs, torso, arms and head. She was passed off to the waiting nurse and healthy. At that time they discovered the first laceration and started to repair it. Then they saw a second laceration and it was taking too long to repair. The anesthesia team put me under quickly. I remember that moment.

Another surgeon was called in from home. They found two more lacerations and I started to hemorrhage. Another surgeon was called in from on call. There were 4 surgeons. 4 lacerations. 2 blood transfusions. 1 bag of plasma. Once the bleeding was under control, they successfully repaired all the lacerations, checked my other organs for damage, and stapled me closed.

According to the notes, they counted the instruments three times. One was missing. They x rayed my body but it was never found. That is a bit unsettling.

The next few days of notes are about my recovery and vitals.

I thought that I was going to feel better reading word for word what happened to me. There were notes from the on call doctors, the surgeons, and the nurses. I don’t really know how I feel now. It still makes me sad. I still think about it. It doesn’t really resolve or fix anything.

It doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t get to hold her or have skin on skin time. She spent most of the time in the nursery those first few days. I have a lot of regrets about that time. I wish I never got induced… I wish I just waited for my body to be ready. Maybe it would have been different.

I know she doesn’t remember her first few days. I know she loves me. She smiles every time I walk in the room. She is bonded to me just the same. But I will always remember knowing something went wrong as they put me out. I will remember the moment I woke up from surgery. I remember the days after of being poked and prodded and being attached to so many monitors and IVs and feeling so defeated when I couldn’t even go from the bed to a chair without help.

Despite how she was brought into this world, she is so happy. She is reaching milestones ahead of schedule.

Like most things I choose to try and forget, I bury the regret and feelings about her birth deep down. But sometimes, at night when I can’t sleep, I replay it over and over. I visualize the moment they pulled her out, and then the moments after when I heard the doctors scrambling and the nurses calling for general surgery. I think about how my husband was forced out and sat in an empty room as doctors and nurses ran down the halls. I think about the confusion he must have felt, the blood he saw them ringing out, the hours he spent waiting. He was able to hold our baby as he waited and I hope she felt safe. I think about waking up in ICU and she wasn’t there and she wasn’t allowed to be until I was transferred out a couple days later to maternity.

I wanted to feel settled after reading those documents. I wanted to have an explanation…. a reason for why I have flashbacks.

My body survived trauma but my mind isn’t there yet.

❤️

The Fleeting Moments

It is so easy to have an opinion about how someone else parents. I used to be that person. I used to say how when I have kids I wouldn’t want them in my bed. I couldn’t understand how those habits form if you just put your kid in their crib to begin with. I would read up on the safety guidelines and scour through posts in all the mom groups about how to practice safe sleep…. “back is best” and room-sharing but not bed-sharing.

And now here I am, 14 weeks into being a mom and at some point in the night, Penny will squirm and whine and I sleepily pull her out of the bassinet and into bed. She burrows her face into me and quickly falls back asleep. She prefers to sleep on her side now so I find myself with one arm under the pillow above our heads, my knees bent just below her feet, and my other arm cradling her so she doesn’t roll. It isn’t really comfortable and I’m constantly shielding her from the dogs when they start to walk around the bed in the morning trying to signal that it’s time to eat. I rarely sleep more than an hour at a time. But none of it really seems to matter as long as she’s comfortable and sleeping.

I am learning so much about myself in this new role as a mom. I am learning that what works for some families doesn’t work for others. And that you do what you have to just to get a little sleep. Online groups LOVE to mom-shame. Everyone has an opinion and for some reason the internet seems like a great place for everyone to share it.

I found myself looking at king beds today online because I’m finding that despite being generally uncomfortable and not well rested, I actually like the feeling of having her smushed up against me. She settles quickly and I can feel her belly rise and fall next to mine.

When Penny was a newborn, she wanted to constantly be held when she slept. It was frustrating to me because I was scared to sleep with her on me when she was so tiny. I was tired and emotional and lost. My dad told me that even though it seems so frustrating at the time, that those moments of her wanting to be held are so fleeting.

She falls asleep in her bassinet now, but every night when she stirs, I pick her up and hold her and it doesn’t bother me anymore. She’s bigger now so I’m not afraid to have her next to me in the bed.

There will come a time in a few short years when she won’t want to snuggle me in the early morning hours. So for now I am savoring it. I am holding on to her for as long as she will let me.

❤️

Mother’s Day

This morning I woke around 3am to switch parenting shifts with my husband. 3am is so early. It’s been a full month of waking at that time and going down to the living room and trying to sleep on the couch but really just staring at Penny and wishing she would be more of a quiet sleeper and wondering if she’s still breathing when she actually is a quiet sleeper.

We have been trying to put her in the bassinet more. She is very noisy. Every few minutes or so she squirms and whines and kicks and then falls back asleep. It’s hard to stay in the same room with her and actually get any decent sleep. This morning I threw in the towel after a 4am feed and listening to her whine in the bassinet until 5:30 and pulled her out and laid her on my chest. She sleeps so quietly when she’s being held. Before I would have thought this made me a bad mom, but now I’m seeing that it just makes me a mom. A “tired of waking up at 3am, just want 8 hours, feeling delirious, but so in love with my little peanut” mom.

It is my first Mother’s Day today. Even though I’m tired and my life is so different, I am happy to be her mom. She cant write me a sweet card or make me a gift, but she is such a gift in herself. There were times when I didn’t think being a mom would be an option for me. I had many months of feeling defeated and less of a woman because of a negative pregnancy test. Then one day, after many months of other kinds of tests and procedures, it was positive.

She had her one month appointment the other day. She is in perfect health. Her weight and height are right on track. Despite not really knowing what I was doing, I was doing a good job. As it turns out, no one really knows what they are doing. It is constant trial and error and trying not to feel guilty when you didn’t get it right.

We switched her formula to a soy based type at the suggestion of her doctor. She has been doing really well on it these past few days. Standing in the formula aisle is so overwhelming. There are so many brands and types within those brands, it’s hard to know which one is going to be the right choice to make her strong and healthy and smart. I went with the Target brand. Feelings of mom guilt washed over me. Am I being cheap with the one thing that keeps her alive and gaining weight? Does it have all the same ingredients I don’t understand but seem really important as Enfamil? The can was $15 cheaper than Enfamil. $15 cheaper!!! And it only lasted us less than 4 days. Suddenly the cost savings won me over. Store brand is okay, I keep telling myself. I love her and she’s healthy and doing well on her soy formula and will she really mind that it’s not branded?

Everyday I am in awe of motherhood. Even though most of us are just winging it, we are warriors. We grew a tiny human inside and our bodies provided everything they needed. After 9 months, we gave birth, in one way or another, to that tiny human. Giving birth was the most painful and traumatic thing I’ve ever done. The other day I caught myself thinking that I could do this again, assuming my body would allow it. Then the baby wouldn’t stop crying and I was so tired and I remembered how much the first few weeks sucked.

All moms are warriors. They carried and brought a life into the world. And then they cared for that life, as best they could. They fix booboos, sing made up songs, rock and swaddle like a champ, provide nourishment, and still maintain a social life and clean house (most days).

So Happy Mother’s Day to all the women warriors out there! Whether you are a mom-to-be, a woman trying to become a mom, a mother figure, an adoptive mom, or a birth mom… you are doing great and I am so in awe of you all!