mommin’

Two (!!) months ago, my whole world changed. I’m a mom now, so I have to say that. Actually, my whole world changed 27 hours prior, when all hell broke loose. In the grand scheme of things, my labor experience was pretty smooth, but it still set the precedent for how anxiety-provoking motherhood can be.

I had an elective induction scheduled for August 28th so that Jared would be able to drive home from Ohio on a schedule and not have to worry about missing the birth. I had my last doctor’s appointment on August 23rd, and reassured all of my family afterward that Ollie would probably stay put past the 28th if we hadn’t scheduled an induction, because my progress was pretty slow. I was laying in bed that night (technically the next morning, because it was 1:40 a.m.), and started getting a few mild back cramps. I got up, with a plan to start timing the cramps, and (TMI-warning) blood started pouring everywhere. Literally-pouring. Trembling, I called my mom to come get me. She didn’t answer. I called her boyfriend. He didn’t answer. I called MY boyfriend to tell him to go ahead and get on the road, regardless of whether or not I was in labor. He didn’t answer. At this point, I was sobbing because I was alone and couldn’t go anywhere. In full disclosure, I was scared to go anywhere because I didn’t want to get blood on my white rugs. My mommy-instincts hadn’t fully kicked in yet. I sucked it up, basically broke into my mom’s apartment (which finally brought out a bit of her dog’s protective nature) and we packed and left for the hospital. By packed, I mean I was too scatterbrained to even grab my fully-packed suitcase, so I just grabbed my phone charger and chapstick. I called Jared’s hotel and got ahold of him- finally! Bless his heart, he packed and left within 30 minutes- leaving a lot of his belongings behind- and set out on a 12 hour drive at 3 a.m. At this point, my water had broken so I felt a little more okay about things. We made it to the hospital, and I was still pouring blood. In fact, this happened for the first 6 hours of my labor. It didn’t really terrify me until the nurses became concerned about it. So, then it became really terrifying. Obviously.

After being transferred to my room, I began to feel my contractions a bit more. At some point, a group of nurses rushed into my room. They told me Ollie’s heart rate was dropping with every contraction, so I honestly don’t really know what happened for a bit after that. I just remember staring at my mom, and feeling a bit numb (mentally. no epidural yet.) I remember being put on oxygen and being turned over, but I’m not really sure what else they were doing. They started discussing the possibility of a c-section, which terrified me because Jared was still 8+ hours away. Thankfully, being turned over and pumped full of fluids helped and my labor became pretty uneventful. That is, until I got my pain meds. That was fun for all!

27 hours of labor later, I held my baby boy skin-to-skin, with his daddy by my side. Because the labor was prolonged, we both had fevers, and he had a mild infection, but we both got better surprisingly fast. I barely remember the entire labor process, except for the beginning and end. Mind you, at the end, I’d been awake for about 50 hours straight. I was so delirious that I was panicking as I breastfed him for the first time, because I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I was terrified my nurse would think I wasn’t a fit mother.

I’m thankful for such a smooth and painless labor and delivery, but I will admit: I’ve never experienced anxiety like I did the first few hours of labor, or the days following his birth. I was trembling for about 6 hours after going into labor- from fear. After having him, I couldn’t sleep. I expected postpartum depression, but I didn’t really expect, or know about, postpartum anxiety. For weeks after having him, I was absolutely terrified of everything. We had to take shifts staying up to watch him sleep at night, because I would have panic attacks thinking of him sleeping without anyone there to make sure he was breathing. To this day, I still check to make sure he’s breathing (even with a movement monitor..)

I’ve learned that babies are so much more indestructible than we think, but they seem so much more fragile when they’re yours to be responsible for.

Motherhood is tough. I know people say that- but to feel it is humbling and heart-wrenching all at once. It’s beautiful, yet terrifying, to love someone so deeply and be responsible for them at the same time. Some days, things go so smoothly, and I feel like I’m mother of the year. I’m able to perfectly time it to where I can breastfeed him, then go to the gym and the store before he gets hungry again. I try to use as little pumped milk as possible, so we can save it for special occasions. Other days, I can’t figure him out. Or he prefers to be comforted by his daddy. Or I just don’t get any sleep. Other days, I feel overly stimulated and anxious and sad for no logical reason. It’s just a part of me, and has been for years. Motherhood only exacerbates the issue at times.

What I’ve found is that people don’t typically ask how you’re doing. I’ve been asked countless times how Ollie’s doing, or how motherhood is. I’ve been asked countless times how Jared’s dealing with fatherhood. But I really only get asked by my mom and my aunt how I’m doing- because they know me, and they know how easily I get overwhelmed and shut down. And I get that. I think society tells us that motherhood comes naturally for women. It tells us that men typically have a harder time coping with the demands of parenthood. Sometimes I think that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I’ve told Jared several times how much I envy him because he’s able to be so relaxed and carefree with life still, and I can’t figure out how to manage that anymore. I feel like I’m a great mother to Ollie, without a doubt. But motherhood isn’t completely natural to me. It’s all so confusing to me still, and I would kill to be relaxed and carefree. On the contrary, I’ve been overwhelmingly uptight, distant, and irritable. And it’s not the sleep, because Jared makes sure I get plenty of that. It’s the hormones. It’s motherhood. New responsibilities. Being someone’s lifeline.

I have no uplifting solution to this (yet!), and that’s okay. For the most part, I prefer being open during the tough times. It’s not always the solutions that resonate with others, but the experiences beforehand. Sometimes, we just need someone to put words to what we’re feeling. Sometimes, we just need to know someone’s in the same boat as us.

Mommas, I feel you. Honestly, I feel you even if you’re not a momma. Life is hard no matter what you’re doing with it. Motherhood is just incredible in its own way, and terrifying in its own way.

Stay tuned, because I’m sure I’ll update again in a few months when motherhood is challenging in five-thousand more ways. Or, I might just take another two year hiatus. Who knows.