Picking up the Pieces

It’s been a long time since I’ve written.  I’ve had a few opportunities to write present themselves through the past four months, and I’ve had plenty of ideas of things I wanted to write about, but I just wind up putting it off.  Probably because I’ve been having such a hard time dealing with Harlee’s birth outcome.  I’ll be honest, because I feel strong enough that I can be now – his birth tore me up.  Physically, obviously, but probably more so mentally.  It’s amazing how many moms I’ve talked to, though, who wholeheartedly know how I feel when I say I feel like I’ve turned into a crazy person.  Baby blues is pretty common, but I think most of us like to try to hide it and put on an appearance of strength that we hope everyone will buy into.  I know I did.  I didn’t want anyone to know how poorly I was handling everything, but the more I hid it, the farther and farther I slipped.  Postpartum depression is a serious thing.  It’s scary, it’s painful, and it’s just plain hard.  When Harlee reached about two months old and I realized I wasn’t getting any better I finally sucked it up and sought counseling, and I went weekly for the past two months trying to figure out how to pull myself together and accept the outcome of Harlee’s birth for what it was, even if I still don’t know the reason for it.  I think I’ve been avoiding blogging because I didn’t want to have to admit that I’ve been going to counseling, but now that I feel so much better from it, and after speaking with other mothers who’ve gone through similar feelings after having their babies (ideally and not ideally)  and realizing I’m really not alone, I’m okay admitting it.  And I think everyone who’s gone through what I’ve gone through emotionally should know that it’s okay to seek help.

It’s still hard to think about how everything turned out.  For the longest time I’d find myself feeling slightly resentful of women who got to have their babies naturally, and even worse I’d get so. ANGRY. when I find out that they’d get an epidural too.  I know most people don’t understand this, but the memory of that epidural keeps me up at night, and sometimes even gives me nightmares.  That was probably one of the worst things that happened in the course of events that took place the night of Harlee’s arrival.  I wanted so badly to feel everything, even though labor hurt like hell, and it was all taken away from me.  Then I hear about other women choosing to get them (and yes, I understand why, because holy moly is labor painful) and I’ve honestly just wanted to shake them and shout, “Do you know how lucky you are!!??  You get to experience the birth of your child first-hand, you get to FEEL his or her arrival into this world, the biggest event in your female life, and you’re NUMBING yourself to it??” and it would just make me so angry because I WANTED to feel it and I didn’t get to.  I know this is an unfair way to think, because like I said, I FELT how painful labor is, and without proper help and coaching, I can certainly see why women just simply can’t take it anymore.  Which is why I’m a huge advocate for doulas now.  Having someone there (other than your husband) who GETS it and knows how to talk you through it makes a HUGE difference.  I went from thinking I was dying before my midwife arrived to feeling in control of the pain and excited and peaceful with every wave when she did arrive (she’s a doula too, by the way).  It was incredible.  Yes, it still hurt, but it was a positive experience.  I was getting that much closer to meeting my baby with every one, and that was so empowering.  Girls, if you ever want to have a natural childbirth, HIRE A DOULA.  I can’t stress that enough.  You don’t need drugs when you have proper support.

Anyway.  I’ve gotten better.  I can now feel happy for women who get to have their babies naturally, and proud of the mommas I know who had successful homebirths, rather than resentful.  Another thing that helps is thinking about how everything happens for a reason.  I truly believe that.  My counselor reminded me that sometimes bad things happen to good people, like car accidents or tornadoes or fires, and these things are just out of our control.  This necessary c-section is in that category.  I couldn’t help that Harlee was asynclitic, and since my water had broken already he just didn’t have the buoyancy to correct himself, and it had been broken for so long we really couldn’t do much more.  His heart rate was dropping dangerously, and I should be grateful we had the means to get him out alive.  And I am.  But it takes two to tango, and while Harlee is fine, I wasn’t.  But as I was saying, my counselor helped me by reminding me too that everything happens for a reason, even if we can’t see those reasons right now.  And after categorizing this turn of events with car accidents and natural disasters, I was reminded of my husband, another case of bad things happening to good people.  His father died when my husband was only 17.  I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for him to deal with, especially at such a pivotal age of self-discovery and growth.  To lose someone that close to you during that time in your life, and really any time in life, can be earth-shattering, and how do you pick up the pieces from that?  But he did.  And I really think that losing his father molded his personality into what it is today – it caused him to make decisions he may not have if that hadn’t happened, and it led him in a direction that I really do believe, ultimately, led to me.  And the way his personality was molded from that event I think is what made us so compatible.  And now he’s happily married with a beautiful baby boy, something he’s always wanted.  So, it took eleven years, but something good came of something tragic.  And that really opened my eyes.  Somehow, this trauma I endured will lead me to something wonderful.  Of course having Harlee here alive and healthy is wonderful in and of itself, don’t get me wrong, but like I said before it takes two to tango.  There’s the “mom” side of me, and the “Jami” side, and while the mom-me is happy with a healthy baby, the Jami-me and is not happy with what happened to her personally and physically.  I don’t know if that makes sense, but I don’t know how else to explain it.

Along with counseling I’ve joined two support groups.  One is ICAN – International Cesarean Awareness Network – which is a wonderful organization that works to educate women on the risks and dangers of cesarean birth and how to avoid unnecessary ones.  I’m really glad I started going there – being around other women who KNOW what I’ve gone through and can relate, plus who have had VBACs as well, gives me strength and a sense of hope.  I’ve also joined a small group for homebirth moms who had to transfer to the hospital, which is a group my doula started.  It’s wonderful, because not many people share the dream I had to birth my baby into the safety and sanctity of our own home, much less understand it.  But these girls do, and also share in my hurt and grief in having to lose that dream.

So, slowly but surely, I’m picking up the pieces of my shattered world and continuing on, and it really has been great.  Harlee is such a wonderful baby, and I count my blessings every day that he’s so healthy, so strong, and so happy.  Breastfeeding is still going well too, and like I said in my last post, I feel good that I’m at least capable of doing SOMEthing my body is designed to do, even if I couldn’t birth him naturally.  He’s learned to roll over, he’s sitting supported really well, he’s laughing, and he’s just so darn cute!  Justin’s been wonderful too.  He’s been so patient with me in my period of grief (and believe me, I haven’t been the nicest person to him sometimes…) and he’s really been an inspiration too, because like I said, he knows what it’s like to lose something so dear to your heart, and he’s had his world shattered, and he’s picked up the pieces and grown from it in a positive way.  And I can too.

 My sweet baby boy :)

Photo taken by Be Lovely Photography