I Can Do Hard Things

Okay, I've been starting and stopping this post for the past 3 months. Allow me to catch you up and finally finish this post. Disclaimer: There may be some long windedness in this post as I'm trying to write as fast as possible before baby wakes up!

Baby finally came! Labor was long. Delivery felt longer. Now I'm the proud momma of a beautiful baby boy. With this blessing has come some unexpected trials, things like: postpartum depression, actual sleepless nights, asking complete strangers for help, and feelings of loneliness just to name a few. On top of that, breastfeeding came a lot slower to me than expected and ended a lot earlier than intended. Calming a newborn is not as easy as it always looked. Now that we're almost 3 months in, I definitely feel like we're getting a better handle on things.
This journey has been one that has stretched, pressed and twisted me in ways I didn't know life could do. I've discovered a more fragile side of me that I didn't really know existed. Allow me to explain.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, my husband and I went to the family birth center at our local hospital to have my baby monitored in a routine, post-dates test. It was over a week past the due date and, needless to say, we were getting antsy. After being hooked up to the monitoring machinery for several hours, we were ready to go home, since it was clear there wasn't going to be anything abnormal to convince the nurses to start an induction. As we gathered our things and got ready to collect our paperwork, a nurse came in and asked if I'd be willing to be induced that day. After asking why, she explained that in the last hour of our waiting, the baby's heart rate had dropped to a dangerously low level and had stayed that low for a whole 5 minutes, indicating that there could be complications during birth if we waited much longer. I had come prepared to beg them to induce me that day anyway so I was more than happy to start the induction process. Yes! I was finally going to see/hold my baby!

I'll spare you the agony of waiting with minuscule details as Friday morning came and I was still hooked up to an IV being pumped with Pitocin, waiting for my body to do something relative to delivering my baby. I had been given breaks to eat and my water had been broken for me the night before, with no change. We had had a false alarm the day before which lead to me having an epidural for most of Thursday until we realized I wasn't as far along as was previously thought. Friday morning, I was checked again to find that my cervix had finally started dilating! This was the day! After 5 hours of pushing, several nurses pushing on my insides to encourage our son to get in the right position and my husband sweetly cheering me on, our baby boy was brought into the world. I was expecting a flood of love and joy for this sweet baby and an increased love for my wonderful husband to fill my mind and heart. Instead, I felt exhausted, a little cranky and just glad the ordeal was over. I don't remember if it was one of the nurses or my husband who said it but I was told, "See? I told you you could do hard things." I responded, "If someone tells me I can do hard things one more time, I might scream."

We were in the hospital 2 more days to give them time to monitor the beginnings of mine and my baby's recovery as it was categorized as a traumatic birth. After they were satisfied that we were on a good road to recovery and that there really wasn't any more they could do for us in the hospital, we were released. I remember getting home from the hospital feeling like a broken mess. My body had been torn in the worst way possible (so I'm told) and my spirit had taken such a beating that I was sure I was defeated. No matter what kind words/gestures/help/encouragement that was given to me, I felt alone, abandoned, and weaker than I've ever felt. How could God expect me to take care of this little one when I was so obviously inadequate to take care of myself? I couldn't go to the bathroom or shower by myself for a little while for fear that I would pass out from blood loss.

Many people from the church came to help hold my baby and keep him happy while I caught up on the sleep I had missed the night before. My husband got some leave time but had to spend some of it studying for a big exam he had coming up. We were living with my in-laws so they took care of a lot of the help I needed in the evening. I spent most days and nights crying either to myself or my husband about how broken I felt and how useless and pointless I felt.

Why am I giving you these details? I want you to understand the place I was in after my miracle of birth experience. I was broken, beaten and so scared. There were some hours where I asked my Father in Heaven to please just take me home to Him, as I was sure I couldn't do this mortal life anymore. This was a dark, and scary place. One that I hope no one enters but I know so many women silently (or not so silently) endure.

My husband gave me a priesthood blessing fairly soon after we arrived home and the gist of the words from this blessing have not left me since. I have been given a very small taste of what the Savior experienced for us. He truly is "a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief." (Isaiah 53:3) And it is through that sorrow and that suffering that I am becoming a stronger, happier, more selfless person. The light is coming back to my life once again (only partially due to better night routines, daily showers, and better eating). I am giving my life for my family and I joy in that giving. While I have been given hard things, I know that I can do all things in the Lord for I know in Whom I have trusted.

It's the Little Things

I feel like I've said this a lot the past few months. I am officially in my final month of pregnancy and feel like I've experienced more than I thought I would. I took a tumble on the ice which left me completely bedridden for a little less than a week. (and when I say "completely bedridden", I mean my husband had to stay home from work so I could have someone take me to the bathroom) Then I had a bought of inexplicable contractions that showed every sign of labor except the actual labor part, so yet another trip to the hospital where I left with a pat on the head and an invitation to come back if I ever felt the need. As our family has been prepping for the arrival of this little one, I've been brought back to just how many small and seemingly insignificant victories we achieve every day. While I was recovering from my fall, it was a victory just to be able to roll over in bed all by myself at first. Then, it was a victory to be able to sit up unaided and so on. Now my little victories include being able to write this blog post in one sitting without having to move back to the bed to rest my weary back.
I've also noticed the little things my husband does for our family more. While we're still just a family of 2 1/2, I've noticed he takes care to do my dishes for me after dinner. He'll hold me while I tremble with uncontrollable panic that seemed to just come out of nowhere. He'll whisper in my ear the words of affirmation I can't always give myself. It's these "little things" that help me to go on with courage.
I was told through the mouth of a child recently that when you are exercising faith, you are exercising courage. I know that when I move forward in these little victories in life, I will have the courage to face the bigger challenges that lay ahead, all thanks to my Savior, who makes it possible for me to press forward in His strength.

The Maternal Instinct Awakens

Well that was scary. Women (mothers in particular) talk about the maternal instinct. I never really felt like I had that instinct that was supposed to magically appear during pregnancy until last night. I started having regular contractions that were very painful and very consistent. I've been told that those are the signs of going into labor. Problem: I haven't reached full-term yet! And I was just in the hospital last week (I ask your patience for a post on that debacle at a later date) so I wasn't too excited to get back so quickly. I didn't feel ready. I couldn't describe why I didn't feel ready, I just didn't.
We tried everything we could think of before going to the hospital. We called the midwife, but she was in a delivery. We called the labor/delivery nurses but they can't give advice over the phone. After having contractions for well over an hour, we decided to get checked out at the hospital. My husband was so excited. He kept saying, "This is it, right?" But I had this feeling that the baby wasn't going to come, not yet. After a few hours of monitoring and tests (so a LOT of waiting) it was determined that the baby wasn't ready to come yet but that my contractions were regular enough that it was good we went in.
Why do I share this? Why was this scary? I'm a first-time mom. I have heard labor described and all the signs associated with it but I had never felt it before. Some women describe it as this beautiful experience while others say that it was the best birth control they ever received. I share this story because I discovered a little bit of my own "mom-tuition" last night. I didn't know exactly what I needed to do so my husband convinced me it was okay to go to the hospital to get checked out. With his support and the skill of the hospital staff who helped me, I was able to confirm my feeling that this baby isn't quite ready yet. While I don't know everything about how to deliver this child into the world, I know enough and have been given enough to make it so my child will make it in one piece. His life is not totally tied to my competence alone. It is also tied to the support of my husband, the knowledge of the nurses and midwives helping me, and our bodies natural, God-given ability to bring a new life into the world. For the first time since I've been pregnant, I saw a mother in the mirror, not just a pregnant woman.