My daughter was born via scheduled c-section on Oct. 26, 2018. Nothing about having her went the way I expected. Not even her conception. My husband and I struggled with infertility for years before finally conceiving Billie on our third round of IUI.
I had placenta previa from my first scan, but was always assured it would resolve itself. It never did. There were a couple scary moments when they thought she also had a velamentous cord insertion (they thought her cord was exposed and going over my cervix, which is very dangerous). Fortunately, that wasn’t the case upon visiting the perinatologist.
But I still had placenta previa, which meant I was grounded from flying at 25 weeks, and had to cancel my big family Hawaiian vacation (scheduled for 30 weeks). I was fortunate to never have any complications with the previa, but all my visions of having a beautiful, unmedicated delivery vanished as quickly as they came.
The surgery itself was uneventful, aside from the horrible gas pains afterward and the world’s worst first postpartum BM (sorry, TMI). But the struggle really began once we were home.
We left the hospital exclusively SNS feeding my daughter, because she wouldn’t latch. She’d just open her mouth over my nipple and furiously shake her head back and forth.
She had tongue/lip ties, which we revised when she was 6 days old. She still didn’t latch. During this time, I was exclusively pumping. She had really bad jaundice, because she was born at 37 weeks, so we had to feed her every 2 hours around the clock, which meant that’s how frequently I was pumping. But it took me 30 minutes to empty, so I never slept.
The side effects of sleep deprivation were extreme for me, and manifested as depression and anxiety. The depression hit me hard and fast, and I remember moments when I would daydream about getting in my car and driving as far away as I could and not coming back. This led to feelings of extreme guilt and more anxiety.
Not to mention, nobody tells you that delivering a baby requires you to completely relearn how to live in your own skin. Nothing about your body feels like yours. Things feel discombobulated, and after major surgery, those feelings are compounded.
Then, my baby developed reflux and colic. She would scream day and night. She never slept, and refused to be laid down on her back without vomiting or crying. She would frequently choke, and I was already a frazzled mess. My husband had to go back to work at 2 weeks postpartum, because he’d just started a new job. I was so scared to leave the house, because we were still SNS feeding her, and setting up the syringes, tubing, etc., all felt too much for me.
We finally medicated her (ranitidine, which has since been recalled—imagine the guilt I carry now.), despite me trying literally EVERY natural remedy under the sun. All of the natural blogs I was reading basically said the same thing: Babies don’t NEED reflux meds, and if you give them to your baby, you clearly didn’t do something right. So, I was even more anxious and depressed for “poisoning” my baby with reflux meds.
But, she hit 8 weeks old (about 1.5 weeks after we started medicating her), and she became a different baby. She latched! I stopped pumping, she started sleeping (I finally got my first 3-hour stretch of sleep at 8 weeks old), she allowed us to lay her down. I do credit the meds to making her feel better. Despite there being a recall, I was so grateful she was eating and gaining weight.
Eventually, my anxiety and depression started to fade, too. Mostly as I started sleeping more. But also thanks to therapy. I just want all the moms out there to know that having a baby is SO hard. Feeding a baby with only your body is SO hard. Learning to live in your skin again when another being is 100 percent dependent on you is SO hard. But, even under the hardest circumstances (I definitely had it rough), it DOES get easier. It just takes time, which is so hard to hear when you’re literally living hour to hour with a newborn.
She’s now 14 months old, and we’re still nursing. I have come to terms with the fact that it is OK that I did not enjoy the first few months of my daughter’s life and was just trying to survive. Seeing her personality now, it’s no wonder. They really do come out of us as little people with their own likes/wants/desires. She still, to this day, cannot be told what to do. She has to come to it on her own.
Written by Kristen Roberts