In August of 2017 I thought I was pregnant. We weren’t really trying but we also weren’t preventing. When it turned out I wasn’t we were both disappointed which was a bit of a shock to us. We wanted kids, eventually. But we were of the mindset “if it happens, it happens. If not, okay.” so when it didn’t happen and we had a reaction it that we realized “hey, this is a bit eye opening…Let’s discuss this whole mom and dad thing a little further…” which led to about 5 months of trying.
Once again, on Thanksgiving day, I thought I was pregnant. I was so excited to announce to family on Thanksgiving day. How cool would that be?! But I wasn’t. My heart was breaking. In the grand scheme of things a couple months of trying really is not that long. And my heart breaks for those that struggle with fertility.
Christmas Eve morning I woke up and took a pregnancy test at about six in the morning. I knew it was really early to get a positive. But I thought, eh, I’ll see. I took the test and didn’t see two lines so I crawled back into bed a little disappointed but not giving up hope yet. I laid there remembering a post on a baby website about how if you test early sometimes you can adjust your camera filter to find the very faint second line. So I thought once again…eh…why not? So I grabbed the test, took a picture, altered the lighting and faintly saw two lines. TWO lines?! WHAT?! I’m pregnant!!! I ran into the bedroom where my husband was sleeping. I yelled “There’s two lines! TWO LINES!” and in his sleepy stupor he responded with “Two lines where? Where are we? What store are we at?” I seriously love him. Best response ever. He was excited once he woke up and registered what I actually meant.
Roll around to Christmas morning. After a final positive test, which was clearly positive at this point, we decided although early, we just had to announce while opening presents. So I wrapped a sleeper that said “I love my grandma and grandpa” and excitedly waited for what seemed like forever until we gave them the present. They were so excited for us. It was beautiful and one of my favorite memories.
Fast forward to August of 2018. I had a pretty much perfect pregnancy. I loved being pregnant. It was amazing. But by the time I was about 36 weeks I developed high blood pressure. I did okay for two weeks. I started having Braxton hicks, which I hate the term, but so be it. It was Saturday the 18 and I was absolutely sure she’d be coming soon. We went to the hospital on Sunday the 19. After a night of monitoring me they sent us home. I wasn’t progressing. So off we went, disappointed and exhausted.
I continued to have Braxton hicks pretty much the entire week. I was put on work restriction and basically made it my life mission to get this child out without medical intervention. But if I had not had her by Monday the 27 I would be induced. I didn’t want that. So off I went waddling through town, twice a day, trying to walk this baby out. Finally, Thursday evening I was having contractions. When I realized how close they were together we decided to once again head to the L&D. After some monitoring and checking, they determined I was finally in labor. woohoo!
By 10 AM on Friday the 24, I had an epidural going, I was at 10 cm and it was go time. I pushed for 2 hours. But nothing was happening. And with every contraction her heartrate dropped. I was faced with a choice: Either continue trying to push(at this point I was getting to the point that I could barely muster up the energy to push a decent push) and chance that it would become an emergency situation if we waited. Or we could go ahead with a c section. With her heart rate dropping and my energy as well, we decided to go ahead with the c section.
This next part is graphic. I will try to be as polite about it as possible. But fair warning…
The c section started out okay. It was uncomfortable at first but quickly became excruciating. I was passing in and out of consciousness while they were working to get her out. Jb was with me trying to keep me awake and alert for our baby girl’s arrival. By the time they got her out I was in so much pain I remember thinking “she’s so pretty but I can’t do this.” I begged them to be done. Once JB left with Lily and the nurse, I remember laying there sobbing. I was hurting so badly. I was completely put under. I awoke in the elevator heading into recovery. I felt fine. Everything was ok. Until it wasn’t. I was once again in and out of consciousness. When I would rally around there were nurses scrambling all over. Blood was everywhere. It was a terrifying site. One of the times I came to, I asked the nurse if I was dying. It was horrible. It turned out I had hemorrhaged twice. Once during the c section and then again in recovery. My blood pressure was bottoming out and my heart was racing. They were waking me up telling me to breathe and measuring the amount of blood I was losing. At this point I was alone and everyone thought I was still just recovering. After a couple of hours my family was made aware of my condition. I was stable but would remain in ICU for the next 24 hours. I didn’t hold my daughter until she was 7 hours old.
I spent the next 4 days in the hospital. Due to my husbands job, I was alone every night. I battled anxiety so crippling. I was fighting constant health battles it seemed like and all the while I was supposed to be bonding with this tiny human. In all of the commercials you see the mom give birth and see the baby and she’s instantly in love. I didn’t have that. I resented her for hurting me so badly. Why wasn’t I given the same opportunity to have her naturally? Why did my birth story go so horribly wrong? I spent a lot of time fighting with myself for those feelings. I wanted to love her but I was so scared of her. So scared of the pain I was in. So scared that I kept having these terrible health scares. It was not a good start to motherhood. I spent a lot of the first few days at home crying. Crying from pain. From the natural reaction of your hormones evening out. And crying because I had no idea what sleep deprivation was until I had a newborn.
The delivery and recovery was a nightmare. I can’t explain how terrifying it was to feel yourself dying, knowing that no one from your family knows how much danger you’re in. It was awful. And because of that I had to and still have to battle some negative thoughts and emotions.
I love my baby girl so much. And I thank God for her every day. That the complications that we had did not harm her. That I was the one in danger. She is the best thing that has happened to me and I fall in love with her more every single day. But man, it’s hard. If anyone out there has a similar birth story please let me know. I’d love to discuss it with you. If anyone at all is struggling with PPD, PTSD or PPA please reach out.
Jenn
One Mom's Journey 