The Safety in Silence is Over

I could do the safe thing. I could post this in my birth trauma group, or not post it at all. I've been told before that things like this are better shared privately, because not every one is on the same journey as I am, and "at least I was able to have children".

But I'm not content staying silent anymore. Because it was the voices of women before me speaking up that made me feel less isolated when I felt like maybe I'd failed, or maybe I'd never be all right again. If they had stayed silent, I wouldn't have been able to heal, and if my voice can help just one other to heal, it is worth it.

Three years ago, my life changed forever. What was supposed to be a joyous, sucessful introduction into motherhood turned into a living nightmare. My plan for quietly bringing my son into the world and spending our first precious hours soaking in every detail was shattered in minutes by bright lights, strangers everywhere, and tubes and needles being shoved into his beautiful soft skin before I ever even had the chance to touch him.

He and I have never seen each other without our scars. His from IVs and heel pricks, mine from a surgeon's knife. We also didn't get to know each other before the emotional scars too. And those are the ones I hate the most. The ones I've tried to hide. The scar on my stomach healed beautifully, my heart has not.

For months I battled severe depression, anxiety, anger, detachment, and post traumatic stress. I would alternate between wanting to give my baby away to someone who could love him more, to not wanting to let him out of my sight because I would have flashbacks of his birth and be afraid he would be taken away again. Irrational fears were making me back out of plans and avoid leaving the house. I hated driving with the baby in the car because we might gett into an accident, and I would have panic attacks if I had to drive at dusk or in the dark.

Then, eventually I found peace. We lived with my in laws for a month before moving into our new house, and it was the best thing that could have happened. Not being the one primarily caring from the baby, being able to care for myself, and the daily socialization with people I felt safe around gave me room to breathe. It was there, watching my mother-in-law take joy in all of Grant's antics, that I first felt genuine attachment to my son. I had finally been able to take a step back & fall in love with my baby for who he was, instead of seeing him as a reminder of what we had been through.

We've been through a lot, he and I. Healing is not a linear progression. Trauma is not the same for everyone, and it is not something you simply "get over" and move on from. But we can move forward, one small step at a time.

Happy birthday, my son. Mama treasures you for all your bravery and sweetness; for all the times you patted away the tears on my cheeks during those dark days & for giving me the strength to step on to the healing path. I love you, my little warrior.

My Birth Journey (Part Two)

This is the second post of a series - you can read Part One here.

I made it to labor & delivery around eleven on Thursday night, and spent twelve hours on the Cervadil. I was dilated 4cm, but not having many contractions, so they gave me the option of Pitocin, or a balloon induction. Since the balloon was more natural I chose it, but I wish I hadn't. Basically, they put a balloon in your cervix, pump it with water, and there are three small tubes taped to your leg. It is painful, and so uncomfortable that you can't sit up or lay on your side really. 

I was able to get about an hour nap leaning over on Stuart on the pull out couch before the contractions started coming harder. I moved back to the bed hoping that Stuart could get some sleep, and I tried to rest between the contractions. I was connected to the fetal monitors, an IV, and a blood pressure cuff that went off every half hour. It was nearly impossible to roll over without messing something up, and I counted time by when the cuff would go off. The nurse had turned the computer screen away from me so the light wouldn't bother me, but there was some comfort in watching my contractions on the screen, knowing that the computer was picking up on my pain. I also tried to will my blood pressure down before the machine took it. If it was over 180 on top, the machine would beep until the nurse came in to turn it off. 

My mom was sitting in a chair next to me dozing when my water broke. I had wondered what it would be like, if I would know when it happened... I'm pretty sure that G head-butted it, because I woke to a huge POW that came over the fetal monitor (like someone thumped a microphone) and a rush of fluid soaking into the sheets around me. It made me yell out & woke Mom and Stuart. We called the nurse who seemed skeptical if it actually was my water, until she had to change the sheets. 

This is where my memory gets a little hazy. They started me on Pitocin & they were giving me magnesium for the preeclampsia. I wasn't allowed to stand up, and they eventually told me I could only lay on my left side because it made my blood pressure too high when I moved. The contractions were hard and very close together - my mom wanted me to count between one ending and another beginning, and all I could ever get out was "one" before I began groaning. She & my student midwife J took turns rubbing my back & bringing warm rice bags to put around me. They had told me the magnesium would make me feel hot & nauseous, but I was shaking so much that my brain told me I was cold. 

The next six hours are a blur - I just remember that someone was always holding my hand, Stuart mainly, but occasionally J or Mom. My husband's family was in the waiting room, and I think they came back once or twice, but I really don't remember. I knew that Stuart was exhausted & didn't feel well, but I couldn't think of anything but that I needed him there to keep me from going crazy. In an effort to ignore the pain, my brain obssesed over the little annoying things - my gown and sheets were wet and irritating, my feet were cold, and all the tubes hanging off my arms & belly made me feel trapped. As long as I could focus on the feel of his thumb rubbing my hand, I could block out the other things. 

Usually in life, we are able to avoid unpleasant situations. I have done my best to steer clear of conflict, and to only take on challenges I knew I could handle. There is nothing that could have prepared me for this challenge, and I certainly would not have thought myself capable of handling this. Today's post is dedicated to my birth "team": Stuart, my moral support, to Mom, my emotional support, and to Jeanne, who did her very best to make me comfortable & reminded me to breathe. 

The picture below is of me right before they took me to labor & delivery.

My Birth Journey (Part One)

This is my birth story in all it's imperfection... I've been wanting to write it out, and I hope it might either be an encouragement to those who have been there, or to help those who haven't to understand what some mamas are going/have gone through. 

This time a year ago, I was being prepped for an induction after a long journey with pre-eclampsia. I had spent four weeks in the hospital on bed rest. Some days I felt really good, and it seemed useless to be there. Other days my legs/feet were so swollen & my vision was so blurred from the high blood pressure that getting out of bed to go to the bathroom was a struggle.

Almost everyone who came to see me told me how they would have gone crazy. "I don't know how you do it", "I could never do this" etc. In some ways being an introvert was a benefit, because I actually don't mind being alone, and I am pretty comfortable with the same routines every day. But, as an introvert, there was nothing I wanted more than to be *home*. I got tired of having people come in and out, doctors asking questions, everyone asking if I was doing ok. There was nothing that could be done until the baby came, so it was draining to come up with a smile and an "I'm fine".

I would spend half an hour in the shower, enjoying the fact that nobody would bother me in there. It was where I could go to cry and not have to be strong. For a few minutes, I could wash off the nasty hospital feeling & get myself from patient to human again. I probably cried in there every day the last week of my pregnancy - I wanted my bed, I wanted to sleep, and I wanted desperately for this baby to be out of my body so that I could feel better again. And then I would cry some more, because I felt so guilty. Guilty for knowing that the longer he stayed inside, the healthier he would be, and I felt selfish for not caring. Guilty because I knew my husband & family were so completely stressed about me, yet there was nothing I could do to make it better.

When Dr. Boone told us that it was finally time to start inducing because my body couldn't handle the HBP much longer, I was relieved. And then scared. I am the person who wants to be prepared, and nobody had prepared me for this. I hadn't gotten to take my birth classes, I wasn't getting the home birth & midwife I had planned, and I was scared to death of having a C-section. They told me they would let me labor naturally as long as possible, but if anything happened, a C-section was going to be necessary. I tried to push it in the back of my mind, but I read the cesarean chapter of my birth book just in case.

After they started the Cervadil Thursday night, we got ready to move our stuff from antepartum to labor & delivery. You can gather a lot of things in one room over a month! The dietician, Carol, who had been delivering my meals every day teared up when she brought my dinner & found out I was leaving. I had always tried to be pleasant when she brought my breakfast at 6:15am and I was still half asleep, even though eating was the last thing on my list right then. I imagine she didn't receive a pleasant welcome from everyone. When she came over to give me a hug, my mom took a picture of us - I wish that I'd had a picture with so many of the amazing nurses who cared for me.

I'm going to dedicate each post, and today, this is dedicated to Carol, for always having a smile on her face & being a little ray of sunshine in my day.

Part Two coming tomorrow!