oh dear mother

I’ve posted before but having kids isn’t “hard”. Being a parent is hard.

Being a mom is hard.

You are thrust into this world of “I’m Supposed To Know Everything About Anything.”

I would call myself a novice planner. I like planning things and a lot of the time sometimes I hit bumps in the road that derail my plans subtly but I do plan. I didn’t have a birth plan, so to speak. Our plan was

  • get to hospital in time (read: E doesn’t want to deliver in the front seat of the vehicle)
  • try to go med free for as long as possible (as I am not Wonder Woman and I knew what I was about to attempt to accomplish)
  • and get the baby out in one piece

That’s it. I didn’t think I was asking too much. But after 39 hours of labor and 3 hours of pushing during said 39 hours of labor, I felt defeated. I couldn’t take anymore and I wanted her out. Her heart rate was dropping, my epidural wasn’t working, I wasn’t dilating past 9.5cm (and contrary to popular belief, you canNOT push a baby out at 9.5cm. It really does need to be a full 10cm), and I was exhausted. I asked for a c-section and I felt terrible. I immediately felt guilty that I was cutting myself short of that moment when I push the baby out and I get to hear “It’s A Girl!”

Instead, I was wheeling out of the L&D room with my husband left standing there, asking WTF was going on. I kept saying “Someone get my husband. Where is my husband?” I got into the OR and all I remember was bright ass lights and the staff almost dropping me. Twice. I started shaking and crying uncontrollably. I had so many drugs running through me, I couldn’ t control myself. They strapped my arms down, which freaked me out even more.

It was only after I felt them cutting my abdomen that I yelled out “WHERE IS MY HUSBAND” and I felt a hand on my shoulder and his voice, saying “I’m right here”. I still couldn’t stop shaking and I was feeling every cut, push, and tug but knowing he was there made me feel a little better.

After both E and I yelling at the anesthesiologist that I needed something for the pain, I didn’t hear anything. I never heard the gender, I didn’t hear her cry, I didn’t see her, no one held her around the curtain to show me her little face.

Just blackness.

I woke up sometime later and I looked around at the recovery area, not knowing what time or day it was. I looked to my left and I saw my husband, slumped over in a chair, sleeping in the most uncomfortable looking position. I called his name and as he woke up, his first words were “She’s here and I saw her.” I passed back out.

I woke up later and I didn’t see my husband. I was worried but I saw that the nurses had given him a bed in the next recovery stall so he could get some sleep. They wheeled me back up to my room but still, no one had said anything about my daughter.

This was not the way I imagine my daughter coming into the world! I wanted her, I wanted to see her and tell her that I love her and tell her that I was sorry.

E later told me that she was in the NICU and that I could see her later. 12 hours later, I finally got to see my daughter.

I wish I had seen this blog post floating around when I had just given birth.

The first week home was a nightmare. The screaming.

Oh, the screaming.

I remember having to walk into the bathroom and just sit and cry for a minute because I felt like such a huge failure. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was wrong with my baby and why she hated me. It was a nightmare.

I have some awesome friends that talked me down from the ledge, assured me that Beanie did not hate me and gave some awesome advice.

And then there were THOSE people.

The ones that said “oh, this too shall pass” or “It gets better, I promise!”

Thanks but thinking “it gets better” wasn’t at the forethought of my mind.

Then one Ninja Mom messages me and says: I know that it seems like you’re getting your ass kicked right now. Getting your ass by a tiny human who doesn’t yet know how to be a human. It’s our jobs how to teach them to be a human. It’s not easy and it’s not pretty. I won’t say it gets better but some days are worth it more than others. It’s ok to put her down in a safe place, walk away for a min, even cry. When you regroup, come back and start over.

Another Ninja mom said: letting go of other people’s bullshit is what makes you supermon – not trying to do it all and having a nervous breakdown.

After reading these, I realized that pile of laundry can sit. Those dishes are still going to be there tomorrow. I let me guilt overwhelm me so much, I honestly thought “maybe I do have a touch of PPD? It can’t be this bad, right?”

Motherhood is not a fairytale. It’s a sorority of The Elite. Within this sorority, you have some of your best friends. Not because they hug you and tell you “this too shall pass” but because they give it to you straight and they will shake the shit out of you when necessary.

The only mother that has every had it all is Martha Stewart and she had a team doing it for her.

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