This Ish is Hard

Being a new mom is the hardest thing you will ever do. It is exhausting, scary, and so very stressful. Having a supportive husband is helpful, but because of this lovely thing called maternal gatekeeping, mothers naturally carry a majority of the load.

You constantly question if you are doing stuff the right way. And if you have a preemie, you have a whole other level of worry added to everything. You worry that you are going to break their fragile little bones, that their thin skin is going to rip open if the diaper adhesives stick to their skin, and don't even get me started on the worry that they are going to get sick.

All of this worry, along with the surge of hormones going through your body, can cause some women to feel empowered and others to feel like they are drowning in life.

I was confident that I would be the first woman. I imagined taking my sweet Baby Bug for walks through our town, taking pictures of her laying in the garden, and getting our house organized now that I could lift more than 10 pounds at a time.

But in reality I was the woman that felt like she couldn't get her head above water. I cried all of the time, felt like I was doing everything wrong, and couldn't let go of everything that I had lost from my "perfect" pregnancy.

I am also the type of person that can't ask for help. I hint at what I need and then I stomp around doing it myself with a lot of anger and frustration. This makes for a hostile household, built up anger, and so many fights with your spouse. It also makes for the perfect postpartum depression storm.

Your feelings of despair are overwhelming and your bond with your baby isn't as strong as you want. You feel disconnected and those feelings of amazing joy are missing. And because you are embarrassed and ashamed, you don't tell anyone about this struggle. You keep it hidden from everyone and convince yourself that you can handle it.

But the reality is that you need to talk about it. You need get your worries out in the open, ask for help when you need it, and accept offers of help when they are given.

This sounds simple, right? Just be a yes person, use your words, give clear messages to those around you. How hard is that?

It's god damn hard as hell. It's scary to ask for help and to admit that you don't know everything. It's even harder when your mom is 12 hours away and none of the people in your "village" have gone through this before.

We put on a smiling face for the people in our lives as well as those that see our lives online. We don't show them the struggles we go through or advertise our failures. When you look through your photos, you don't see a bunch of dark, raw pictures of the midnight fight with your husband or the raw nipples from hours of pumping. You see a bunch of your smiling baby and the happy moments together.

But sometimes showing those hard times can help others. Can show them that they are not alone, like you so often feel you are.

I recently had a childhood acquaintance post about a very personal experience of hers that was full of raw emotion and honesty. It addressed a topic that many are afraid to discuss in an online forum. I was amazed by her bravery and inspired to not only start this blog, but to share it with others as well.

I don't need sympathy or people to feel sorry for me. This is a space for me to share my raw emotions, to celebrate the good, get angry at the bad, and to move past the ugly.

And if this blog helps even one lonely new mom, that would be great. But if it doesn't help anyone except me, that is ok as well.

The struggle on late nights and being spit up on constantly...

Lacking Lactation

I had one last thing that I was clinging to when everything else in my picture perfect journey into motherhood had been taken from me.

I couldn't wait to nurse my sweet baby girl. I had my pump ready to go, I had a huge stock of milk storage bags and sterilizing bags, and I had bought myself two new nursing bras that would make nursing in public a breeze. 

I was convinced that I would be a pro at nursing when my breasts began to leak at about 32 weeks. It wasn't a lot and it wasn't all of the time, but it happened and this convinced me that my breasts would have no trouble producing milk when the time came. 

So now here we were, our sweet baby was born and it was time to show my boobs who was boss. I started pumping immediately and was thankful for my wonderful nurses who came in to help clean my parts while I was stuck in bed. I was able to get a few drops of colostrum in the first 24 hours that the nurses then dribbled into Baby Bugs mouth before she ate. 

And then I was told that Baby Bug was not able to nurse yet as her mouth was too small and she needed to save her energy to grow. So I was instructed to allow her to go to the breast before feeding her and then to pump immediately after to build my supply and to make it easier for Bug to nurse without expending much energy. 

So I began the task of pumping every 3 hours, just after Bug ate. I did this for the first week, eager for my breasts to become engorged, excited for the feeling that it was time for my baby to eat as I had heard so many say that their boobs could be used to tell time. 

But that feeling never came. I struggled to get enough milk for even half of a bottle during each pump session and celebrated when I was able to pump a full ounce between both breasts. But then something happened, it was like a switch was turned off in my boobs and I was lucky to get 10 mLs total during each pump session. 

I sat crying with the pump going crazy, seeing nothing coming out and feeling like a failure. I drank my water, I pumped like crazy, and yet I still couldn't do the one thing that I wanted to do. The one thing that I thought would come easy. 

So we were supplementing with formula, adding on another huge expense that I had convinced myself we would incur and causing me to feel like a failure. I tried working with a lactation consultant, but she said that she couldn't do much to help if my body didn't have the supply to feed my child.  

One lovely side effect of hoshimotos disease can be an inability to produce a milk supply. And guess who was lucky enough to experience this side effect...that's right, me! 

So after trying so hard, sitting topless for hours with a pump seemingly growing from my chest, I gave into the harsh reality that I would have to give up the last thing that I had imagined in my perfect pregnancy. 

And this was the thing that pushed me over the edge of the post partum depression cliff...

The only picture I have of Baby Bug attempting to nurse. It is so bittersweet to think back to this moment.

Why You Gotta Be So Mean?

Women always ask new moms two questions. It doesn't matter if it is someone you know well or if it is the nosy old lady at the consignment shop, they always want to know the same things...

The first question is always, "Isn't this the happiest time of your life?" And the people that ask you this never want to hear the truth. They want to hear you say that you are in love, that it is more than you could have ever imagined. They want to hear you guys over how amazing motherhood is. 

They don't want to hear you say "I cry when I'm home alone", or "I'm still not sure that this baby is supposed to be in my house", or "I'm more unhappy than I've ever been because I'm tired and haven't had the strength to shower in 5 days". Or even better, "I haven't taken a crap in 2 weeks, my stomach hurts worse than when I was having contractions, and my husband has had to take my baby from my arms as I sat on the toilet trying to pass the massive amount of crap that is stuck inside of me". 

So you smile kindly, tell them what they want to hear, and move on with your day. 

The second question is even more frustrating. It is always "Are you nursing?" or some variation of that question. And they want you to gush about how wonderful it is to bond with your child as they sweetly suckle your breast each time they are hungry and if you say anything else you get judgemental clucks that leave you mubling a reason that is really none of their business or giving them a snarky look and snapping something unkind. 

Nursing is absolutely one of the most beautiful things.  The sensation you get when your baby finally latches on and pulls milk from your breast for the first time is indescribable. But like everything else with pregnancy and motherhood, it is hard.  And for some women like myself, it becomes impossible. But more about that later...

And finally, some women feel the need to make comments that make you want to smack them! I once had a women tell me that my baby would EVENTUALLY bond with me in the same way that a baby who nurses is able to bond with their mother. And that is THE MOST terrible thing that you can say to a new mom. And when this happens, you simply walk away because having an assault on your record could ruin your career and would not be good for your new baby to witness.

Ah Push It!

I was moved to my L&D room at around 9 a.m. on Friday, Spetember 1st. I was only dialated 2 and a smidge centimeters, 0% effaced, and not showing any signs on being ready, other than being hooked up to a million ivs and monitors.

They began pumping me full of magnesium so that I didn't start having seizures, they stuck some sort of pill on my cervix to get the process started, and my amazing nurse began the long battle of keeping the monitor on Miss Scarlett as she got nonstop hiccups and played hide and seek.

They told me to be ready for a long process since I wasn't progressing and my parents, who immediately dropped what they were doing and started the drive to be there for the birth, were told they had plenty of time to get there.

My husband, sister in law, and her girl friend were staked out in my room enjoying pizza as I munched on popsicles and ice chips (sneaking me a small bite to satisfy my need for real food).

Then they left, being told that it would probably be at least 10 am before anything happened and I settled in for a night on fighting fetal monitors and dealing with a terrible migraine.

Thankfully my husband didn't listen and came back to the hospital before midnight because around 230 am the doctors decided to break my water and my labor (and pain) went from 0-6 in a matter of minutes.

And here is where another one of my perfect pregnancy dreams almost went away. I had already lost out on my completely natural birth just by having to be induced, I had gained a total of 45 pounds, and now i was giving in and asking for an epidural because I was afraid the pain would cause me to stress out too much and would have horrible consequences.

I requested an epidural and about 45 minutes later they were in and prepping for the procedure. That is when Baby Bug decided to stop her heart almost completely, causing the nurses to flip me on my side and start putting in orders for a c-section.

At around 315 am I screamed that I needed to push and after realizing that I knew what I was saying, the nurse told me to hold back from pushing because the baby was coming too fast, there wasn't a doctor around, and things needed to slow down.

That is when my pain level of 6 shot up to a 12 and everything goes into fast forward. I screamed, my body did things that I didn't realize it could do, my husband experienced things that I love him for moving past, and I successfully completed the most difficult task that a human body can complete, without any pain medication.

And my beautiful, perfect, healthy 4 pounds 3 ounce baby girl was born. Her cord was wrapped around her neck 3 times, but once it was removed she let out the most amazing cry for the first time.

Her Daddy cut het cord, they laid her on my chest, and then they ripped her from me (or at least that is how it felt) to take her to the NICU for tests and observation.

That is when the longest 24 hours of my life began.

When you are on magnesium, you are a fall risk. And because of this, you are stuck in your bed, on clear liquids only, for 24 hours after you give birth. This also means that you can't visit your baby in the NICU because there isn't enough room for a wheel chair.

So I depended on my husband, parents (who left their hotel room at like 4 am to get to us), and my sister in law to show me pictures of my beautiful new baby.  And I had to trust that the nurses were giving her enough love.

I also struggled with the fact that I couldn't nurse my sweet baby. And the pump was frustrating.

But 24 hours, 1 busted iv (complete with blood puddle on the floor), and a nurses approval later, Daniel was pushing me down to officially me my precious baby girl.

Meeting our baby girl for the first time and being in awe of how tiny she was. 

I was instantly in love and thought that there was no way that I would be anything but beyond happy from that moment on. 

Little did I know....

Not what I Expected

From the moment that you get that positive pregnancy test, you begin to imagine how everything will go. From your pregnancy to your birth to those blissful weeks of maternity leave where you will snuggle your perfect, squishy newborn all day long in blissful happiness.

I imagined a pregnancy where I gained a healthy amount of weight, where I glowed with happiness, and where I had a calm, peaceful delivery without any assistance from pain meds or drugs. I was determined to do everything as natural as possible. 

I was on the path to living this dream pregnancy for about 27 weeks. I only gained 5 pounds during the first 1.5 trimesters (in fact I dropped nearly 10 pounds during my first trimester), I didn't have a single pregnancy craving, no morning sickness, I could handle even the worst of smells, and best of all my body did not want anything to do with sweets. Other than having to endure two 3-hour glucose tests, I was experiencing the smoothest pregnancy of anyone I knew.

Then our ultrasound happened at around week 27. Baby Bug looked wonderful, she still had all ten toes and fingers, she had a strong heartbeat, and she was growing right on target. But the doctor brought me into an exam room and told me that my blood pressure was higher than they liked. He told me that he was concerned that I was developing preeclampsia and ordered a 24 hour urine test and scheduled a follow up appointment with my OB for the following Monday (this was Tuesday). 

I did the urine test as ordered and figured it would be like the glucose tests, inconvenient and gross, but the results would be normal. That's when I received the notification from my online medical chart that told me the results were in and without even seeing my doctor's note about the test, I knew my levels were fairly high, especially for my stage of pregnancy. 

Now most women don't freak about something like this right away, but we have family history of preeclampsia and this caused me to worry more than I normally would. But I tried to remain calm until I heard from my doctor. 

That Monday I met with my doctor and she confirmed that I had preeclampsia, but that it was a mild case at this point and didn't seem to be effecting any of my organs. We discussed our plan of action and agreed that we were still planning on allowing things to run their course, but that I needed to start coming in every week for a check up and to have my lab work done to make sure all of my numbers stayed in check. She also ordered me to monitor my blood pressure at home with strict orders to go to the hospital at the first sign of an elevated blood pressure. 

We went on this way for a few weeks without any worries, but then in August my lab work started to show a few elevated levels so we agreed that I would start coming in for weekly check ups and would also start coming in for weekly non-stress tests to monitor that baby's heart rate. 

With all of this, I was still having an amazing pregnancy. The only exception being that I was rapidly putting on weight. This originally concerned me because my doctor had given me that goal of keeping my weight gain under 15 pounds and I was skyrocketing past 20 pounds and quickly approaching 30 and I wasn't even in the final stretch yet. But my doctor assured me that this was due to water retention and swelling from the preeclampsia and that it would all fall off pretty quickly.

This was my last belly picture.

The middle of August arrived and that is when I was first admitted to the hospital for a 3 day visit. My blood pressure went up, my vision blurred, and I was beyond swollen. Thankfully everything looked safe for baby to stick around for a bit longer and continue to cook and grow, but they gave me steroid shots just in case. 

I was allowed to go back to work, but I had to promise to stay sitting most of the day, with only light walking. I wasn't able to lift over 10 pounds and jumping was prohibited, making storytimes tricky. I also had to closely monitor my blood pressure and visit my doctor for non-stress tests twice a week. 

I continued this way for another two weeks, until the fateful Thursday when my picture perfect pregnancy ended and the scariest 2 days of my life began. I was right at the end of week 34 when I went into the hospital with a blood pressure reading of 160/108 and a massive headache that just wouldn't go away. I assumed that I would be sent home on bed rest and not able to return to work,  but I was admitted for observation with the warning that I would probably be stuck there until my induction date (nesarly 3 weeks away).  Knowing that I would just be sitting in a bed being woke up throughout the night by nurses, I sent Daniel home to be with the dogs with plans to see him the next day before he went to work (if I wasn't released 🤞).

The next morning a doctor, whose name I don't know, came in and told me that I needed to have my husband come in because we were going to be having a baby! I immediately broke down crying and shaking. It was too soon, she was too little, we didn't even have a crib, I hadn't had my baby shower yet and I wanted my enormous belly for my baby shower. They were mistaken and I was going home still pregnant until we were ready. But because of my crazy high blood pressure readings, my insane migraine that was not getting better, and the risk of seizures, we were having a baby. 

Now, my phone had died that night so the only way I could communicate with Daniel was though the Facebook app on the hospital tablet, which did not go with me to the labor and delivery room. I sent him a quick message, he freaked out, and once I was in my L&D room I called him and assured him that he had time before he was a daddy. 

And that is when my crazy labor began...

What a Sweet Surprise!

Motherhood is an adventure unlike any other. You spend your whole life imagining what it will be like to raise your own sweet little baby, convinced that you know what is best and determined to do things the way You think they should be done.

And then it happens. You give birth to a strong willed baby who challenges your every parenting belief. Who makes you realize that even though you thought you knew best, in reality you had no clue.

My mantra during pregnancy:
"I'll never co-sleep", "Breast is best", " We will snuggle up and read books together every night".

My reality:
"I'm too tired, just sleep on my chest (or in my arms, or beside me in the bed)", "God damn it, why won't these stupid things work. This pump hurts like hell! Why doesn't my body want to feed my baby?", "Let's read a book...💤".

This blog is my attempt at clearing all of my crazy mom thoughts from my head, while possibly helping other moms realize that they are not alone.