Forgotten on the Operating Table

I have been trying for months now to try and find the words to adequately describe my feelings about my birth experience with my youngest daughter. It is socially unacceptable to talk about the ugly issues behind giving birth. Giving birth is “supposed” to be a lifetime moment that is remembered with un-surpassing joy. When you ask women to talk about their birth experiences, the majority will describe an experience that was empowering, wonderful and emotional. But for a lot of women we carry a secret of the grief we experience when our birth experiences are less than ideal. In some cases, we are left with post-traumatic stress disorder from the trauma that we are not to talk about.

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:

At Least You Have a Healthy Baby

Comforting a Woman Traumatized by her Birth Experience

The Most Important Thing

Woman Who Didn't Have a Healthy Baby Reflects on the "Healthy Baby" Trope

So, About This Birth Rape Thing

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Will NEVER Get It Together

I would like to encourage all of you single moms out there. You will NEVER get it together, so stop trying. Stop pressuring yourself to be perfect. You will never be perfect. Stop trying to live up to an ideal that produces shame. Put down the image you created for yourself, put down the mask, and just show up. Show up with all your imperfections, all of your craziness, all of your youness!

 In the end your children only want you anyway. They don't want a perfect mom. They don't want a tired, worn out, pretending to have it together mom. They want you. All of you. Yes, ALL of you! Even with all of the mistakes, and regrets and the messiness that you have created. Your kids are going to be okay, because you are okay. You are enough, and you are giving and doing enough. Give yourself a break and stop trying so hard.

Don't let the world manipulate you into believing what makes up a good mom. Don't let other moms judge you for not living up to their standards. Their lofty looks and nasty remarks are only an indicator of their own self-value, it says nothing of your value. Don't let the "super mom" culture of this world make you feel less than because you can't do it all. All that is required from you is to love your kids. Period. Love will guide you and show you how to give your kids the best. Don't let materialism of others make you seem like you are not giving enough "stuff" to your kids. Trust me, what your kids need and what your kids want are two very differnt things. You are providing them with what they need, and when they are grown they will show you through their own lives just how grateful they were for providing what they needed (food, shelter, clothing, love and support). They will grow up remembering your time with them, not the stuff you bought them.

 It's okay to have dirty dishes in the sink. It's okay to have un-made beds, and laundry all over the floor. It's okay to have dust on your shelves and to have a pile of toys and homework in the house. Put down the image of a perfecly clean house and go play with your kid! Talk to him. Listen to her. They truly and wholly want you. Your stories. Your experiences. Your time.

Live life and your kids will learn to live life. And in life remember this:

You will NEVER get it together. So stop trying. Just show up and believe it's going to be okay!

I'm Letting Go

“In some families, please is described as the magic word. In our house, however, it was sorry.” ~Margaret Laurence

 

My words were, "I forgive you whether you apologize to me or not."

 

I stated my apology and presented the olive branch. I opened the door for reconciliation.

 

Nothing has been reciprocated. No apology. No effort to reconcile a broken relationship caused by miscommunciation and hurtful words.

 

So the pain has surfaced again.

 

It was difficult to forgive the first offense. Now I am trying to forgive the second- the offense of no apology.

 

To not show any remorse or effort to reconcile the relationship somehow hurts more than the words first spoken.

 

Perhaps I put more stalk in the relationship than the other person. Perhaps I misjudged our relationship in the first place.

 

Whatever the reason for no apology, it makes me feel unimportant, empty and small.

 

Yes, I will forgive, but that does not mean I will forget, or that the feeling of insignificance will go away.

 

Friends, we are not any better than anybody else to think we have the right to not apologize. Just because someone has forgiven you, doesn't give you a free ticket to not acknowledge their pain and hurt.

 

To genuinely apologize is to not only bring healing and reconciliation, but it also says, "I acknowledge that I messed up, and I am equal with you. I am the same as you and I value you too much to let my pride get in the way of our relationship,"

 

To not apologize is to say the opposite. "I don't acknowledge you or your pain. My pride is more important than you and our relationship." To not apologize is inherently an act of conceit.

 

Here is a proufound statment about forgiveness and apologies:

 

Forgiveness is simply a reminder that I am on equal footing with every other child of God. We all do good and noble things at times; on other occasions we may offend. I have no right to judge, punish, or absolve anyone. When I behave self-righteously, I'm the one who suffers- I seperate myself from my fellow human beings... I don't know the motives or circumstances that cause another's behavior.

 

I would like to say that I forgive this person for not apologizing. I will not absolve him. It hurts and it keeps us seperated. I am sad that it has to be this way, and I hope that in the future we will have reconcilation. Until then I'm letting go.

 

Letting go of the dream of being a family with this person.

 

Letting go of my judgements and assumptions about why this person does not care about our relationship.

 

Letting go of the hurt and disappointment.

 

"You can't hold a man down without staying down with him."

 

We're Married! We're Having a Baby!

In my brief absence here on my blog I have much to share with you. I am now a married woman and I am expecting my third child in September!

Who would have thought a year ago I would be married and pregnant? Life is interesting like that, and once again she has shown me that she is not done with throwing me unexpected surprises. I couldn't be more happy or more thrilled.

I truly do feel like the luckiest woman in the world. My new husband is amazing and wonderul. Everything a woman would want in a man. Respectful, thoughtful, giving and continues to make me smile and laugh.

Our wedding day is a day I will cherish for the rest of my life and beyond. It was small, short and very sweet. All of my loved ones were there to witness the grand event. My son gave me away, my daughter was a beautiful brides maid, two of my cute little nieces were adorable flower girls, my little sister the maid of honor and Dan's best friend Dan the best man, not to mention that my brother-in-law performed the ceremony. It was funny, heart warming and some tears of joy were shed. Most importanly, our vows were written from our hearts. Vows that expressed our love, our devotion and our promises to one another.  The recpetion was held in our house (thanks to wind and cold) and everyone enjoyed themselves.  It was a wonderul, exciting day! I do have to say that our new marriage has brought us closer than ever, and I love him now more than ever. I do believe the feeling is mutal on his part! ;)

And now I am going to be a mama again. Four months into the pregnancy and I am feeling really good. No big complaints, like morning sickness. Just feel tired and boy do I have to pee a lot! We have had two ultra sounds already and the baby looks healthy and active! Yay for active baby! We have another ultra sound on May 1st and hopefully we will find out gender. I will keep you posted. So why all the ultra sounds you may ask? Well, according to the medical experts, I am considered high risk due to my age. Yes, apparently 35 is considered advanced maternal age! Oh well, I am not going to complain about the extra tender care and ultra sounds. Dan is super excited and has been taking extra good care of me. Making me breakfast every morning, packing my lunches and sees that I get my rest. He even enjoys talking and making jokes to my belly so the baby can hear. Gotta break the baby in with his hilarious humor right?  :o)

Life is good! Even if you have to squint to find the good, it's there. Wishing you all the joy possible!

NO MATTER WHAT

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”  - Ralph Waldo Emerson

LIke any parent in this world, we all want our children to be happy and to be brave. Brave enough to be themselves when the world is telling them to be something different. Something that is "acceptable." For reasons beyond my comprehension our society has placed so many pressures on our children. The pressure to be "successful." And that success is defined by not what it means to create and develop the person we were meant to be, but success that buys more and pleases the masses. 

I have been having this conversation with my new found love lately, now that we are going to become a blended family. I have so many concerns and questions and tons of fear on how this new life is going to pan out. I want so much to teach my children to be who they are and to forget the rest. I want them to know that NO MATTER WHAT I have their back. It doesn't matter what they do or how they turn out. I will love them and support them. 

But in the real world, this is a bigger battle than I can take on on my own. 

The real battle here is not telling and proclaiming the truth of the above quote. To reiterate this idea into their little heads and hearts is not the issue here. The battle I face friends is that I can only fight this battle twice a month. Because I am still dealing with guilt and shame of breaking up the family and agreeing with a 50/50 custody. I have already missed a lot in their life because of this custody arrangement and it makes me feel unworthy. Unworthy as a mom. And when I do get to see my kids, I may in fact overcompensate with discipline, gifts, or lack of discipline. Either way I am not parenting with love and vigor, I am parenting out of fear, guilt and shame. 

I know, I know, you thought I was over that already. Well, I don't know if I will EVER get over it. I mean how can I get over the fact that my kids are constantly being transferred every week to a new environment with different rules and different philosophies about life? 

I don't think I will get over it, but I can adjust and make the most of it. I mean, after all I am a Warrior, a Fighter, not a complainer or a victim! I know I have been trying to find peace with raising my kids in two different homes. It has been a difficult battle. But now that life seems to be settling down a bit, I can see the light that will lead to the wholeness I have been craving for my children. I know that marrying a new man will bring in new issues and new adjustments for all of us. I know my cowboy will have to make some major changes as well. And with all these changes I want to show my children that NO MATTER WHAT we remain true to who we are. NO MATTER WHAT we have each other's backs. NO MATTER WHAT love always prevails over fear. NO MATTER WHAT!!