I Wasn’t Ready—And That’s Okay: The Raw Truth About My First Birth
By Sonal, Co-Founder of Herwell Motherhood
Time to get very real on a very personal story. As I am writing this, I am thinking, why haven’t I done this before? Why haven’t I written exactly what my thoughts were or are before this?
The only answer that comes to mind is, I was scared, Scared of being judged, scared of saying it all out loud, scared of my cultural background and the people in it? Perhaps, even scared to admit it to myself.
Side Note:::
This has been written on July 28th and has not been editted. If there are grammatical errors, I am sorry. I did not major in English. If there are spelling errors, I am sorry, I am not a dictionary and once again not an English Major. This is written from the heart from a postpartum mom, Me, of 2 toddler boys: 3 and 2 years old
Pregnancy
I got pregnant in earliy 2021, and had my first baby boy in October of that year. The entire pregnancy was exactly what you may think of it –
I was lucky to say, I had not much discomfort at least early on, I had some nausea in the beginning, adefinitely had some aversions to meat and eggs. I loved tangerines – I would literally eat a whole 5 lbs bag. Pregnancy was fairly easy…it was fun. I felt a boost of energy in the second trimester, I was hearing this is normal. I was gaining some weight but I did enjoy flaunting my belly. I was working full time – loved dressing up and wearing heals.
By the way, Something about me out of many, but what really is relevant to this is - I am your typical TYPE B person – I wing it all..
Ideally, I love to prepare for things but who am I kidding? I truly don’t like preparing for anything unless it’s the night before or I am under stress. I didn’t read many books on parenting, I had no true feeling of what postpartum would look like? I perhaps, didn’t even KNOW to think about it…I was the first one in my friend circle to have a baby and as far as my cousins go – I mean, they did it! It looked fun, I saw their pictures, and It was so cute! How hard can it be right? I had NO idea what I was doing (and in hindsight) I don’t think I ever processed that this baby will ACTUALLY COME OUT OF MY BELLY IN OCTOBER.
I was truly in bliss as a pregnant woman. I did it all, I built furniture (we were moving at the time), I painted, I organized, I washed clothes, I tried to set up our new home, and really….I was in la la land.
Third trimester came along and sleep became harder, movement was a lot slower, and my back was hurting.Feeling the baby kick, singing to the baby, and buying my first book is a memory I cannot forget. That book was bought in Danbury, CT (a town I grew up in) wile visiting my aunt and uncle.
The Arrival or Birth!
Well…doctor told me I had a condition that caused severe itchniness – it was common in south Asians, I guess. Well, didn’t take that much seriously either and said “okay, well, what do I have to do?” I am telling you, I am VERY Type B, I wasn’t kidding about it.
She said, well you have to be induced. I said great – I was actually scared of a vaginal birth. So internally I felt some relief. Not sure why? Maybe it was my self critic, maybe it was confidence, maybe it was fear, but if I am totally honest with myself…right now in this moment….I think I felt like I wasn’t strong enough, good enough, or “able” enough to push a baby through. So somewhere in my heart, I felt some relief that this will be an Induction…..
By the way….The things I know now…Vaginal birth TOUGH but C section birth mama’s You are incredible tough too! It is NOT an easy ticket. Either way a baby is born and either way the recovery is slow, unique, painful, and different from one mama to another…
Okay…back to the story.
Well, that fear became even stronger as I went through the Induction process for close to 70 hours. It was painful. Numerous hands went up my Hoo Haa, Doctors, attendings, residents, just freely came into my room and kept checking for dilation. Nope, I didn’t budge (my cervix said, WELP! I am not thinning out and baby is good).
Here I am in the medical field but I felt completely helpless and quite honestly I had no idea what to ask for. I was in pain so they gave me pain meds, morphine to top it all off. I always said to myself, was it necessary? Did I actually need something that strong…My pain tolerance is SO high. But in THIS moment, that pain was undescribable unbearable. I wanted my baby safe, I wanted me to be okay.
71st hour came along and a physician casually walked in and said, nothigs happening, so were doing a C section. Well…..here we go with that “fear of not being good enough, strong enough came into play.” I was almost relieved – mainly because of the pain. I still feel like I didn’t process, that I’d be meeting my baby soon….MY BABY…my baby that I grew, my baby that heard my voice and my heart beat, and perhaps the only human on the planet that felt everything I felt.
I was connected to him and disconnected at the same time. It is such a weird phenomena to explain.
Postpartum
Well she completed the C section – a physician and her resident closed me up. My baby was in the recovery room waiting for me with papa. I was in awe….HE was in my belly? Just a few minutes ago? How? And what Am I feeling…numbness in my legs, I couldn’t move them. I had a urine catheter attached – See no one tells you these things. I had no sensation waist and down.
I was happy, nervous, and once again possibly in a state where I didn’t even process what I was feeling. Maybe confused?
The next few days I spent in the hospital were the most HORRID, horrendous days of my life. I develop pain at the incision site. It was so painful that I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t walk. I could barely laugh/smile/talk without feeling like my incision is going to burst open any second. It was so painful. I tried explaining it to the nurses and anyone that would be me time and attention. I was eventually sent home, I opted for a wheelchair because I couldn’t make it.
I decided I wanted to breast feed and pump. Well..that was tough. My baby had a poor latch and did read on any of this? Did I talk to anyone? Did I watch videos? The answer was a big fat NO! So honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. The Lactation Consultant came in maybe twice and I was too tired to focus…It wasn’t as long as I wish it was. – meanwhile my mother did everything to make me feel comfortable in her way. My mother in law told me how breastfeeding is the best and she did it for all her boys.
I thought this whole breastfeeding thing was going to be easy for me…It was hell. I could not stand the breastfeeding sensation because my incision hurt, my uterus contracted, and I felt like I was passing out everytime.
Something was off, I knew it. No one believed me. I know my partner and my mom felt that there was something not quite right but I still didn’t think they truly understood. The pressure at my site kept building, and building, and I just couldn’t walk much maybe 5-10 feet at max. I was tired, I felt short of breath, and I felt clouded. I finally called the doctor who complete the surgery and she began to say “I’ll see you in 8 weeks.” I said, no, I am coming Monday first thing. I think that was the smartest thing I did during this entire experience.
I went, on monday to do the doctors. She said, you need to go to the ER. You have an infection…..
I finally, felt like I wasn’t going insane. I saw the eyes of my mother in law, my own family, my partner, and of course my baby….I felt so weak. I felt like I failed. I felt judged but I felt like saying “SEE! I wasn’t lying!!” I felt so sad…..I felt something was wrong with me.
We rushed to the hospital and I was kept there for another couple of days under antibiotics. Oh gosh, well if you want something fuck with you – try telling a postpartum mom to pump and dump. At this point, I was producing fairly well and milk was flowing. However, due to this infection I was on heavy antibiotics. The team had said the milk should not be given to baby. So here I am, pumping…..and dumping all my milk down the sink. I literally said, fuck it. I can’t do this.
My baby was away, he was at home, and was fully loved and taken care of….but me…I felt a sense of loneliness. I felt a sense of failure. I felt…not good enough. I felt like I wasn’t meant for this whole motherhood thing. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing – I just knew, I was in pain and I finally think I will be getting the care I needed.
Day 1 goes by, still in pain…
Day 2 goes by, no changes in infection and still in pain
Day 3 goes by, same thing…
Day 4 goes by and a vibrant woman comes into my room and simply says… “what are you still doing here, I came here to echeck on you because I keep hearing about you for the last few days during morning rounds.” I was just pissed at this point, and although this vibrant doctor did not deserve my attitude, I said “I don’t know, you tell me why I am still here.”
She asked to look at my incision, she said “this is easy and I am going to take care of you right now.” I was like what? Are you taking me to the Operating room? She said “nope. Right here.” I was like well, oay, you seem confident and trustworthy and clear!
I’ll never forget this day, because it was my birthday – October 21st.
She was magic, she was my angel, she was my person…..she took away all the pain and it literally, I mean this quite literally..the pain melted away as soon as she manually took out the infection.
She warned me, your incision will stay open and you will get a wound care nurse at home. Now, I am once again in the medicine field (occupational therapy) so I was familiar with normal and abnormal wound healing. I was slightly terrified and thinking what in the world? Why me? and my incision, meaning where MY BABY CAME OUT OF —- is going to be just OPEN? What? Is that even possible.
But I got discharged, and guess what? I was able to walk that day. It was IN…saneeeee…..
Now we fast forward slightly after my mom left…
Mental Health Decline
I felt disconnected with my baby, I felt like I wasn’t bonding, I felt like my baby wanted my partner more, I felt like I wasn’t good enough because now my milk supply had dropped significantly. I tried my best but I barely got 1 oz on each side…So I started to supplement with formula.
I was reminded by many when they asked…as visitors, as family members, as friends…”are you breast feeding?” my answer was, no….and it was just that. I had no way to reason because even my reason felt like an excuse. Their answer was ohhh…but you know breast feeding is best.
Well…lady, I couldn’t. I tried. And Believe me I tried. I remember, sitting on the couch some days celebrating that I had 1.5 ounces..while some moms in the family kept stating how they were overflowing with milk.
I started going on a rabbit hole on IG and seeing posts on moms with freezer stashes – welp. That was definitely a BAD decision to scroll down those images.
Post partum depression hit me pretty badly. I felt like I didn’t connect with anyone, I felt judged all the time, I felt the need prove my motherhood and that I am able to provide for my baby. It was just plain hard….
Intrusive thoughts came to mind – what if I fell down the stairs and had the baby, what if I accidentally dropped the baby, what if something happened to me…wouldn’t that be ok? The baby would be fine right?
I knew it was troublesome thoughts but I had no one to talk to about this nor did I know there was help available. Once again, I don’t think I had enough time or brain power to even process and do anything about it.
It was a feeling of hopelessness. Like time just stopped. I missed getting out of the house when I wanted. I missed having my body to myself. I felt touched out and quite honestly when others touched me I felt invaded. It’s like I was craving to be held but also pushed it away quickly. The one thing that did make sense was, I did want to be a good mom. I wasn’t overly protective, and sometimes I feel like wow, was I not a good mom for not being over protective? I didn’t fear anything would hurt the baby, somehwere in me, I just knew my baby is resilient and strong. I did feel paranoid at night….
But at night, is also when I felt the most rage and anger. I knew one thing about my self and that was when I get stressed or impatient it isn’t pretty. I knew I had to hold on for the baby But some nights I just couldn’t….and I am so, very thankful for such an involved husband. He seamlessly took these hours and soothed the baby.
Things eventually became part of my routine, I can never say I “healed” because soon after, I was pregnant with my second baby boy (6 months later).
I started to feel a bit more like myself around this time and this is when I enjoyed baby #1. I loved cuddling, I enjoyed the smiles, and making mush for him, and doing all the mom things. It was tough, It was so hard on our relationship (husband and I) and quite honestly it stayed hard for a very, very long time.
If you’ve stuck around this far to read this…Thank you. I hope somewhere in here I am able to inspire another mom in thinking about things like:
- Preparing for postpartum not just birth
- Preparation not just for mom but for the entire family and communication on boundaries
- Bonding with baby may not come natural
- Finding professionals that HEAR you, acknowledge you, and give you time/attention
- Mostly, learning yourself and your habits
Part 2 will come soon….It gets better a lot better. So if you are a mom in the toughest season. Hear me when I say this..
It feels endless. It feels heavy. But it’s temporary.
What I needed most wasn’t a perfect plan.
It was to be held.
To be loved.
To be told, “You’re doing amazing.”
To be educated
To be told some of it is truly not instinct its time…and with time you will learn this so called “moms instinct”
To be given permission to speak freely, without judgment or advice. To be told “hey, its just me and you…..tell me what youre feeling.”
For someone to not come over and go immediately to the baby but maybe ask me what I want to eat (God bless my mom, she was one of the very few who always considered this and more)
So consider this your permission slip.
With all the love, grace, and strength I can send through a screen,
Sonal
Co-Founder, Herwell Motherhood
