Having a baby is a joyful event that is celebrated by all
involved. So it makes sense that when a mother is done with her part (long
painful labor) she is forgotten and all the attention goes to the new bundle of
joy. So the mother is left with the aftermath of the pain, scars, and
exhaustion. If labor goes well and with little to no complications, a mother
can recoup within days after giving birth. However, if there are complications
and a cesarean was needed, recovery can be painful and can take weeks or months
to recoup.
I had two birth experiences when I was much younger, 21 and
24. Both were vaginally. My first was induced and long. I pushed for hours and
still needed the assistance of contraptions to help the baby out. I had an episiotomy
and my baby was bruised from the forceps. All was forgotten the moment the baby
was placed on my bare chest. The look in her eyes, and the joy I felt was going
to burst my heart. All the pain and suffering was worth it at that moment. It
is what every mother dreams when she creates this wonderful creature in her
womb. It is a love and bond that is so strong and beautiful. The only regret I
had was allowing family in the delivery room. As much as they thought they were
comforting and helping me, they were just in the way. They were all very joyful
and excited to meet my daughter but it wasn’t about them. It was about my daughter,
my boyfriend, and me. My family had to wait a long time to hold my first born,
because I was too busy bonding and trying to breastfeed. It wasn’t a perfect,
Hollywood picture birth, but it was beautiful. Recovery was weeks long because
of the episiotomy. I never knew it could hurt that bad when going to the
bathroom, and I never knew that much blood could come out of me and still live!
My second was peaceful, since I told
family to stay home this time, and there were no complications. Having your
newborn placed on your chest is such a wonderful and emotional bond. Recovery
was only days long and a new family was created.
As a mother giving birth, your only concern is always your
baby first and yourself second. We anticipate the first cry. We count fingers
and toes. We awe at the creation that we nurtured and sacrificed our bodies
for. We can’t wait to meet our little joy and to talk to her so she can hear
the voice she came accustomed to for nine months. There really is nothing like
it in this world.
So after four years of being a single mom I met a wonderful
man. We knew that we wanted to share in the joy of having a child together. I
couldn’t wait to experience all of the joys and emotions with him when bringing
our daughter into the world. I couldn’t wait to see the look in his eyes when
he sees the power of our love manifested in our child. I couldn’t wait for all
three of us to bond- peacefully and joyfully.
My pregnancy didn’t skip a beat, just some minor stress
related to family. I gained a little more than I would have liked, but it was
nice to eat whatever I wanted, and my new husband took joy in cooking for me. We
had a blast preparing for our new daughter. Her nursery was painted and
furnished. My sister gave me a wonderful shower. My husband and I talked in the
evenings about what our baby would look like and whose personality she would
have. It was fun dreaming. We even created our own birth plan. We wanted a
natural peaceful birth. No family or friends at the hospital. No drugs or
epidural unless it was completely unbearable and I begged for it. Our code word
was banana. We wanted to do skin to skin immediately after the birth, as well
as breastfeed. It was important to us that we bond with our daughter, just the
three of us.
When the day arrived and my contractions were strong and
close together, my husband and I drove to the hospital and so began a journey
that would change my perspective on births, cesareans, relationships and life.
We arrived at the hospital around 7:30 PM. Contractions were
strong, but not unbearable. Unfortunately, the baby’s heart rate would drop
after every contraction. That was concerning. So I was being monitored closely.
Determined to go through this naturally I breathed through each contraction,
and my husband held my hand. After hours of this I made little progress- I had
only dilated to 3cm. already exhausted and discouraged, I asked for an
epidural. I was hoping I could rest through the contractions so I could have
energy to push the baby out.
After the epidural was given, I was able to rest little. I
had to be monitored and checked. Contractions were making little progress so
they gave me Pitocin. I noticed there was a spot on my right abdomen that didn’t
take to the epidural, so I could feel the contraction. They tried to pump more
medicine into my body to try and numb that spot. It didn’t work. They pumped
more fluid into my veins. They artificially popped my bag of waters and noticed
it was colored. I knew that I had 24 hours to get this baby out or she would be
in danger of infection. Still I only dilated to 6 cm. and the baby was not dropping.
I lay in my uncomfortable bed, not able to feel my legs, but still able to feel
every aching contraction. They pumped more water into my womb hoping it would
make the baby drop. They tried to position me on my left side, since I was
incapable of moving myself due to the epidural. Then one strong contraction
came, it lasted what seemed like forever. I moaned and breathed through it. 8
cm dilated and the baby’s head was still not quite dropping. But the worst case
scenario was beginning. My daughter’s heart rate dropped after that
contraction, so low that the Dr. told me I needed a cesarean. The baby could
not handle the contractions.
At this point, everything happened so fast, the details are
murky and vague. I could see the fear in my husband’s eyes. I remember them
placing a cap on my head and giving me more medicine to stop my contractions.
The anesthesiologist came in and dropped a bomb on me. Because my epidural didn’t
take, I would need to go completely under. My worst fear was coming true. I was
terrified. So many thoughts were going through my mind. The worst of course was
that my baby would not make it, or I wouldn’t make it. Before I knew it, they
had me sign a bunch of paper work and then wheeled me into the operating table.
My husband kissed me and then he was gone.
The prep time was slow. I lay on the operating table
listening to the nurses casually talk about their lives and explaining to me
what was happening. They shaved my pubic area and my tummy. I had to lie on my
back with my arms out with only the view of the bright lamps. No longer was I
in charge of my birth, my body or my life. It was in the hands of the medical
crew. I had no choice but to trust them. I thought about my husband and what he
must be thinking and going through. I desperately wanted him there with me, but
because I had to be completely under, he wasn’t allowed. I prayed. I prayed my
daughter would be okay. I prayed I would be okay. I didn’t know what was going
to happen and I was scared, alone and cold. Then it was time to put me down.
The lady calmly asked me to lift my chin so she could place the tube that would
help me breathe into my throat. I started counting and then everything went
black.
When I started to come to, I could feel an excruciating pain
on my lower abdomen. My body began to shiver and when I placed my hand on my
empty tummy, I felt an enormous amount of sorrow. The pain was overwhelming. I
could not contain my shaking body and I moaned to cope with the pain. My
husband was by my side, holding our baby. I wanted to hold her and feed her,
but it was too painful and I couldn’t stop shaking. I could see that my husband
was a bit reserved with how I was reacting to coming out of anesthesia. He was
trying to comfort me by showing me the baby, but it was just too overwhelming
for me.
As I calmed down, thanks to the morphine they gave me, the
baby was finally handed to me. She was wrapped in a blanket and as much as I
wanted to rejoice, I was feeling empty and tired. I don’t remember much about that only that I
still couldn’t walk and the adrenaline was still high in my blood stream so I
wasn’t really myself. I had to be told what happened with my baby while I was
under. I was told she was examined by the hospital pediatrician and she was
healthy. I was told that was cleaned up and then wrapped up and handed to my
husband. My husband was concerned for me and was told that I was doing just
fine.
Here is the hardest part for me to explain. The part that I
am still grieving and left confused. The part that I am not supposed to talk
about- The part that I keep hidden inside and try to pretend that it never
happened- The part that re-defined relationships in my life.
After this traumatic event, I was distraught for many
reasons. Firstly, I was heartbroken that I missed the BIG moments of giving
birth- Hearing her cry for the first time, skin to skin for the first precious
hours of her life, and bonding with my husband. I missed him cutting the
umbilical cord. I missed him meet her and hold her for the first time. In a real personal sense, I was grieving the
loss of my birth experience, the dream of what I had experienced the first two
times.
I don’t know what it is about having a baby that makes
people go crazy. I understand the excitement, and I having experienced the
other end through my nephews and niece, I am still trying to find answers about
what I found out happened while I was unconscious on the operating table.
Apparently, I was told just a couple days of coming home
from the hospital, that my dear mother-in-law was not only at the hospital
uninvited, but somehow she was able to hold my daughter before me. She gloated and beamed with joy as she
explained to me how happy she was to have that moment, but more importantly how
happy she was that she could witness her son become a father. When those words
reached my ears, the grief I was already feeling multiplied tenfold! I wanted
to yell at her and ask how she could be so inconsiderate and selfish. I didn’t
understand how this could happen. Shouldn’t I, the mother, the one who
sacrificed so much and went through so much pain and trauma be the one to
experience that moment and joy? So I asked my husband to explain what happened.
He told me that when he knew I was safe and going to be alright, his parents
arrived and so he invited them in the room to show off the baby and lo and
behold, he handed the baby to his mom and it was her embrace that my daughter
felt before mine and she was able to witness what I waited nine months for. I was upset and hurt by this because it made
me feel forgotten. As if I was only the incubator per say. It didn’t matter
that I was unconscious and sacrificing myself to bring this precious baby into
the world, all that mattered was just that- a healthy, cute baby was brought
into the world. So to wait for me to come to in order to bond with my baby and
husband never even occurred to them. They were too excited and too overwhelmed
with joy to care that my dreams were being diminished.
So on top of feeling like shit from the cesarean, and
feeling like shit from the loss I was experiencing I was shocked to discover
how little support I was receiving. Recovery was slow and painful. Something I
never experienced before. Walking hurt- oh how it hurt! Getting out of bed was
slow and painful too. Pain meds took the edge off, but it didn’t take away the
pain. It was nice that family and friends brought over meals for us and I so
appreciated that because while my husband worked it was nice to have a meal
ready in the evening. My mother-in-law told me she was going to take some time
and help me when needed. I thought that would be nice, but little did I know
that her idea of helping me was parking her butt on my couch holding and
bonding with my new baby. I guess she forgot what her cesarean was like,
because she literally told me to go away and get stuff done so she could have
alone time with my baby. I was puzzled because I was hurting and could barely
walk, what did she mean “get stuff done” anyway? The only thing I should be
doing was healing and taking care of my baby. Keeping the house clean was
definitely not on my priority list at that time. I needed someone to take care
of me.
As my feelings of the whole situation became more complex
the harder it became to process the losses. Why was I feeling so awful when I should
be feeling joy and excitement? Was I overreacting? Was it my hormones? Was it
my upbringing? I couldn’t figure it out. All I knew was that I was very
unhappy. I started to get more and more angry with how my birth experience
panned out, and I was getting more and more angry at my mother-in-law and how
she was behaving with me and MY baby. I
was already upset with how she was able to hold my baby before me and witness
my husband hold her as well. So every time she held her, it made my skin crawl.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to share her; it was the way it was done. She
treated MY baby as if it was HERS. She even thanked me for having her, as if I
did in fact have this baby for her. My husband, at the time, had yet to thank
me for giving him a healthy, beautiful daughter, so why is she thanking me? She
bragged about getting a greeting card in the mail congratulating her for becoming
a grandma. Did she bother to buy me flowers or a card to congratulate me and my
husband for becoming parents? NOPE! Everything she said made me angry. From
telling me my daughter’s diaper was put on too tight, to claiming that she
loved my daughter as much I did. I have to admit that last one really put me
over the edge. I had it. I would rather go through the rest of my post-partum
alone then deal with this. So I did. I
put up some boundaries and hell broke loose.
I know my husband loves his mom, and it has taken all of
this to realize that their relationship was inappropriate at least. It took a
lot of tears and late night arguments for us to finally make our giant step of independence.
It has caused strained relationships in the end, but sometimes a couple needs
to do what is best for their nuclear family, especially when a new family is
created. So I started therapy for post-partum depression and discovered I was
also going through post-traumatic stress disorder from my cesarean; in fact it
was labeled complex PTSD because of all the abuse and neglect from childhood
that I had yet dealt with. So I started researching and reading articles about
what I was going through and discovered I wasn’t alone. There were a lot of
women grieving their birth experiences and a lot of women trying to find a way
to deal with their overbearing mother-in-laws after giving birth. But the main
theme I see over and over again through this journey is this:
Women who are pregnant and giving birth are still human
beings with feelings, dreams, fears and hopes. Her body still belongs to her
and she needs support. She is NOT an incubator for your grandchild, niece,
nephew or whatever relation you may have with the baby. Giving birth is
wonderful, but it is also a medical procedure- a major one, if that. She is
vulnerable, in pain and needs to have her privacy respected. Her recovery time is
about HER and her baby. It is not about you. It is about what she wants, not
about what you want. Don’t take what she does and doesn’t do personally. You don’t
know what kind of grief she is going through.
You will have plenty of time to celebrate and be a part of the new
creation.
And a little note to husbands: It is your job to make sure
that your wife is safe and feels protected through this whole process. You had
a hand in creating this child with her, but it is her body that she is
sacrificing (not just cosmetically but even her own life) and needs to know
that you will move heaven and earth for her and your baby. Tell her she looks
beautiful ALL THE TIME, and if something or someone is bothering her, don’t
question it or minimize it. Be the bigger man and help her feel special, and console
her if she needs to be. This process is such an emotional monster for her; she
needs to know that you love her and that you are going to be there for her. Give
her time to heal, in her own way.
Having a baby is a joyful, once in a lifetime event, but don’t
let your joy of the baby force you to forget about the mother who birthed her.
She deserves your respect, honor, loyalty and kindness; after all, she just
went through something excruciating to bring that cute bundle of joy into your
arms.
Here are some helpful links:
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