Let’s talk about processing birth stories. It’s so important, and it’s so under-considered. Moms aren’t often given the time or space to truly process their journeys. But we SHOULD. So mama, reach out to a trusted friend, partner, family member, or Facebook Mom Group member, and share. Process. It’s truly healing.
When I first became a mom, a few things happened that totally rocked my world. I think I had some loose expectations surrounding labor/birth, that I wanted to breastfeed because “breast is best,” and that I’d have plenty of time to clean out my closets while I was on maternity leave from working at the rehab hospital. HA! I wasn’t exactly prepared for the major twists and turns my journey took me, but I think that could be said for many birth stories. I am still somewhat processing my experiences years later, but I think that’s ok. It’s part of the journey.
Anyway, my son came via emergency C-section. That was quite unexpected, to say the least. My water had broken sometime around 4am, I had an epidural placed before I ever truly felt pain from contractions, because the anesthesiologist told me the hospital was getting a lot of traumas so if I wanted an epidural, I’d need to get one NOW, I never had the opportunity to walk around or change positions, and when the time came, I don’t even know if I was actually pushing because I couldn’t feel anything. Anyway, baby D tried to emerge but kept going back up too far to reach, apparently. To avoid infection, I was told, we needed to get him out NOW. Hubby caught his operating room attire in the air as they tossed it to him and whisked me away. I didn’t get skin to skin time. I hardly got to see my little guy at all. I was so doped up from having begged for more laughing gas to make my shakes stop during the surgery, that I hardly knew what was going on. In fact, I even told my mom “I hate to tell you this and I’m so sorry, but they had to cut me all the way open from bottom to top” as my husband stood next to me in recovery shaking his head “no,” because that had not, in fact, happened.
By the time a nurse plopped baby to breast, I was starting to become more alert but still had to hold my own eyelids open because of how drowsy I was from the meds. And from the experience, overall. I told the nurse I couldn’t really use my arms yet and to please help or I’d drop my baby. She gave me a nipple shield (wait, what? I had never heard of that) and told me the baby would figure it out. Well that’s great, except please give me pillows and a bed rail to support my arm so I don’t drop the baby! Forget bonding or figuring out breastfeeding.
When this whole whirlwind finally slowed down and I was discharged home 3 days later, I experienced the usual absolute tornado of baby needing to be fed constantly, pumping to try to produce milk because my lactation consultant said so, cleaning parts with my husband’s help, getting 30 minutes of sleep at best, and starting the process over. Ad nauseum, forever, until the end of time. Around day 3 of being home, I suddenly had the worst headache of my life. At first I figured this was par for the course, because I literally wasn’t sleeping. Or really eating all that well, to be honest. Eventually I decided to check my blood pressure, because I did work in stroke rehab, afterall, and I realized people usually report awful headaches related to their high BP and subsequent strokes. And yeah… it was high. Not good. I ended up going to the ER when the nurse on the call line confirmed the reading was not good and was probably an emergency. I also ended up getting admitted for 3 days, because the number continued to not be good. It turns out, postpartum preeclampsia is a thing (who’s with me in thinking preeclampsia meant pre-baby?! I was under the impression that once baby arrived, blood pressure went down and risks went away… but not in my case!) Once I was home and mostly on the mend, I researched the term preeclampsia, which, as it turns out, refers to pre-seizure or pre-stroke, not pre-baby. FUN!
Let me tell you, being put on a magnesium drip and on seizure precautions, being told you need an adult to supervise you with your newborn because your body is unpredictable and you may drop him, is quite the shock to the system to an already fragile 6-day postpartum mama who already feels like a failure for birthing via C-section AND not being able to produce more than 5 drops of breastmilk at a time. (To be clear - I am now absolutely proud of my C-section births, but still feel a little twang of jealousy that I never experienced labor or delivery pain - weird? Maybe.)
After a few days of figuring out my meds, followed by about 12 more weeks of meds at home to manage my rollercoaster blood pressure, I was fine. I am fine to this day, and never had any blood pressure issues before or since (well, save during my second birth experience, but that’s a story for a different day). I am SO grateful for that, for my health. But my goodness during all of this, it was scary and traumatizing.
Somewhere in the middle of all the pain from the C-section, the confusion surrounding how I’d care for a newborn when I could hardly clear the mental fog from medications, fatigue, stress, and hormones plus that pain from the C-section, I thought to myself, where’s my OT? Where’s the support for MOM?! Why am I trying to figure all of this out for myself, when everyone is here to care for the baby? (I felt guilty thinking this way, because #momguilt, but for REAL.) There was plenty of toxic positivity for moms, like “women have given birth for a million years, sometimes in a field, so it can be figured out!” but no real advice or guidance on what was going on with my body or my mind. Aside from mom friends, my own mom, and at the time, BabyCenter (anonymous posting, anyone?!), I didn’t easily find a lot of support for what I was going through. And a lot of it felt gross, extreme, or limited to my own “weird” experience. I needed more.
And so, mighty mOThers was born. To give mamas that absolutely vital support in the mental and physical healing after childbirth. But I digress. I didn’t actually sit down today to write about my small business journey. I sat down, because I felt inspired looking at my kids this morning at the bus stop, in the crisp fall air that always makes me feel a little more alive. I thought I would never get through those hard days of having a newborn. I hated hearing about the days being long but the years being short. It was miserable, and so, so, SO hard for me. I loved my kids fiercely, and would not change anything for the world, AND felt frustrated I had to always share that caveat. But here I am, years later, realizing that my birth story was uniquely mine, in all of its ups and downs. I am who I am because of it. I am still processing this motherhood journey, and I think I always will. And that’s ok. I wanted to share that you are not alone, no matter how weird, gross, different, or taboo you feel. And that you can feel proud AND frustrated. Joyful AND confused. Motherhood is something else, I tell ya.
Disclaimer: Content provided by mighty mOThers, LLC is informational in intent, and is not meant to replace or contradict guidance provided by your personal doctor, therapist, or other healthcare practitioner. Please contact your healthcare provider or schedule a 1:1 evaluation with an OT with specific concerns, and call 911 if you are having a physical or mental health emergency.
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