I have been blogging about the Theory of Babies & Birth for months. But sometimes the theory is very different from the practice. So I thought it would be appropriate to wrap up the "Pregnancy, Babies, and Birth" blog series with one woman's real-life experience with birth and baby: my own.
Things didn't go as planned.
Even though I had spent months preaching on this blog about how unpredictable the birthing process was, I never thought it would be that way for me. I naively believed that I would be the exception; my labor and delivery were going to go exactly as I wanted. It would be beautiful and natural, painful but quick, and I would be a perfect new parent. Everything was going to come naturally to me, my mothering instincts would kick in right away, and I would know just what to do and what was best for my baby. I had done all the research, so I was totally prepared, right?
Not quite . . .
It was a long and difficult labor and there was a constant threat of danger to my baby. I had to have Pitocin to kickstart my labor and eventually was in so much pain that I was ready for an epidural. When the time came, I was able to push efficiently, but my baby got stuck. So exhausted, I opted for an assisted delivery to avoid a C-section. The forceps did some damage to both me and my baby. When my baby was finally delivered 24 hours and 25 minutes after my water broke, he wasn't crying like he should, so they whisked him away to the NICU. My husband and I weren't able to hold him until almost 9 hours later when he was stable enough to come to stay in our room.
My postpartum recovery was incredibly difficult and painful, both physically and emotionally. I couldn't sit or walk without debilitating pain, which made it hard to even hold my son for long. I spent weeks laying in bed or laying on the couch praying for God to take away the pain. Simple tasks were too much for me to accomplish, so my husband had to take over everything around the house. I couldn't leave the house, I couldn't have visitors, and I started to get cabin-fever. I felt like it would never end.
About 5 days postpartum, I started to develop postpartum depression. I felt numb. I lost my appetite completely. I felt indifferent to my baby. I had inexplicable crying spells. I had an overwhelming urge to run away. I had never felt so inadequate in my entire life. In my worst moments, I was absolutely convinced that I would never be happy again. It made it almost impossible for me to care for my baby. After my husband returned to work, I had to reach out for help from my parents, which they graciously gave. I felt envy and disappointment as I watched others caring for my newborn instead of me. But mostly, I felt horribly, horribly guilty.
I have to say, there is no guilt quite like Mommy Guilt. There are all these things that we are supposed to do as mothers that we may or may not be able to do. When I wasn't able to do all of the things that I knew I "should" have been doing as a mother, I felt like a complete failure. I remember thinking how my baby deserved a mother that could give him all of the things that I couldn't. I was convinced that he deserved better than me.
It took many weeks for me to heal physically and emotionally, in fact, I'm still healing. If it hadn't been for my amazingly supportive husband and the Atonement of our Savior Jesus Christ, I don't know how I would have gotten through the entire process. But things got better little by little. I started feeling a little less pain and less depression with each passing day. I bonded with my baby. I learned what his cues meant and developed my parenting skills. I held my husband a lot tighter. I prayed more sincerely than I ever prayed before. I began to accept that all my preconceived notions about parenthood were less important than giving myself room to be imperfect. I started to see that being a good mommy DOES NOT mean being a perfect mommy.
As I got back to myself, I wanted nothing more than to share my experience with other women. I didn't (and don't) want pity for what I went through, but I did (and do) want to share these things because I know there are other women out there who have had similar experiences. And I know there are women who will have similar experiences in the future. It is incredibly lonely to feel like you are the only woman in the world who doesn't have a perfect "A Baby Story" delivery and recovery. Even though my husband was beyond incredible, he just couldn't understand all of the things I went through. It wasn't until I spoke to other women, like my own mother and my mommy-friends, that I began to feel peace and relief about what I was going through. Ladies, you are not alone! I firmly believe that sharing our struggles with each other can only serve to strengthen one another. We need each other. So, please, if you are struggling similarly, reach out for help!
We live in a culture where there is so much expected of us as mothers but we just can't meet all those expectations. Perfection is impossible. And that opens the door to a lot of feelings of inadequacy and guilt. But I have good news, Sisters. Our Heavenly Father doesn't require perfection from us. He knows our circumstances and He knows our hearts. The expectation of perfection comes from ourselves and sometimes from other women in our lives. Do I think my Heavenly Father blames me for not doing "enough" in those first few difficult weeks? Absolutely not. He knows that I did the best I could with what I had been given. And that was enough.
I was enough.
For all of the women out there doubting your abilities, feeling guilty and inadequate, pushing yourself to run faster than you are able, YOU ARE ENOUGH. Don't let the Adversary convince you otherwise. Self-doubt steals so much away from you. Work as hard as you can on learning self-acceptance and self-love, all the while remembering that you have a loving and forgiving Heavenly Father cheering you on, not One who is chastising you from on-high for being imperfect. And if you need someone to talk to, someone to encourage you and lift you up, come visit us here at Women's Services. We have a lot of practice at being imperfect! Heck, I'm getting better at it every day.
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