Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts

Monday, April 14, 2014

A Postpartum Series: Transitioning to motherhood

I know it's been quiet around here for the past month. And honestly, that's what I love about this informal method of blogging. I don't take it seriously enough to where I need to concern myself if I don't have time to write for a season. Thank you all for your grace and understanding that I'm just like you and have periods where time and energy are scarce.

Today I feel very compelled to talk about the transition to becoming a mom, specifically a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM). You might remember the big announcement in this post from two years ago that my husband got a job that could support our desire of having me at home. God was so faithful to our desires then, and has continued to be over the past couple years. I would love to share some of what this has looked like for us.



Before October 2012, I worked as a graphic designer in Seattle. Honestly, in the few years I spent working after graduating college I had never enjoyed work very much and mostly dreamed of the day I could retire and head home. This was never a long-term goal of mine though. As far back as I can remember I had just assumed that I would spend my life working a career job and that would be that. But literally the second we got married (shortly after I graduated) a switch flipped and I was ready to have babies and be a mama. I couldn't deny it no matter how hard I tried and it actually ended up being a really difficult season of life for me. I wanted to be home managing our home, taking care of daily chores, bills and shopping, raising kiddos, and feeling like I could have more control over what my days looked like. I hated the feeling of doing the same exact thing every day...sitting on my bum in front of a computer, bleary-eyed from the screen and achy from sitting all day.

God knew my heart through this hard season, and I knew he was the one who put those desires on my heart. He soon honored these desires by allowing us to get pregnant and then a few months later giving my husband a job that could support our family. I stopped work outside of the home a few weeks before my due date in late October 2012 and began my transition to life at home. Obviously, this also coincided with our family's transition to one income. We were living in an affordable rental at the time, had sold one of our cars since my husband could bus to work, paid off my student loans with his signing bonus, and had a few thousand dollars in savings. Truthfully, we were winging it though. We had no budget, nor any idea of what living off one income practically meant. Up until then we had way more than enough money to cover our bills, do fun things and even throw a chunk of money in savings every month. That's not to say though that we had any concept of financially planning for the future.


My first months of being at home were a blur. Aside from imbalanced hormones taking over my body and still being a newlywed, I also had a colicky baby. Life was messy and not very enjoyable. I knew God was near, but I wasn't sure what He was doing through this. I cried out over and over in the most basic ways asking Him to help me. I didn't know what to ask for, but my soul was flailing and so was my marriage. I needed Him to sort everything out. In my devotional one day, I read that I could lean into God as much as I needed to. I hadn't ever heard this before and the visual has carried me through some of the hardest, scariest and most frustrating times since then. I literally picture myself leaning into a pair of strong, yet tender arms, wide open and ready to embrace any time life becomes too much.



This was a dark time in our marriage. I wanted to run away forever so badly. I tried over and over, too. I would get in the car and just leave my family because I couldn't take it—the crying, needy baby, the husband who struggled to understand me and communicate his own frustrations and feelings. I am tearing up remembering just how dark that season was. I wasn't sure I was going to make it through. I was so angry. We had a handful of people walking with us through it, but no one seemed to quite understand. In hindsight, I can see I had almost no postpartum emotional support. This exact season was the catalyst to me opening up this blog again. I want to offer the support to other families that I didn't have. And true to my usual form, that often just looks like being real about life.

"This exact season was the catalyst to me opening up this blog again. I want to offer the support to other families that I didn't have. And true to my usual form, that often just looks like being real about life."

We continued on. Lola began to fuss less, but was still demanding. We saw the real estate market was hot and felt like we needed to jump on a house soon. We put an offer right away on a house, but thankfully God knew what was better for us and gave us hearts to back out. Probably a week later we had a second offer down on a house. It was more than we could afford on our own, but had a rental suite that would cover enough of our mortgage to make it work. We borrowed money from a family member to piece together a down payment and soon settled into our first house.


A revelation occurred shortly after moving in. One day I took Lola outside with me, put her in a baby seat and just started weeding my new yard. I felt like a new person. It was rejuvenating, productive, calming, and the sunlight and fresh air were so nourishing to my body. Soon after, I started passing her off to Arthur the second he'd get home from work and run outside to weed until the sun went down and I needed to nurse Lola before bed (we had—still have—a lot of weeds!). This became my time. I began to thrive again.


Our marriage was still hard. I honestly hadn't thought about work since the day I left. Lola was becoming more independent and a bit less fussy. Our new house had lots of natural light that was like a balm to my soul. I had found gardening to be a good friend. But financially we were very disconnected. I sensed it, but couldn't put my finger on what exactly was happening. I'm going to choose to keep some of the details private, but essentially I was very out of touch with our financial situation. Months passed at this rate and things got worse. I knew almost nothing about our money, where it was going, or how it was being spent. Nevertheless, we bought lots of things for our new house—furniture, lumber and soil for garden beds, gallons and gallons of paint and supplies, a new bathroom vanity, we ripped up the carpets and refinished the hardwoods underneath, a fancy dishwasher and an extra fancy washer and dryer, tools for all our projects, and on and on. On the outside things were looking "good".

Summer arrived and I felt more alive than ever. We sought pastoral counseling at church and left with a new perspective on Jesus' love for us and how that ought to influence our interactions with each other. We began to communicate more humbly and lovingly. God was at work and sorting everything out as I had plead him to for so many months prior. Also, the sun was shining and we could finally spend more time outdoors. Before last spring, I had never realized how sensitive I am to needing fresh air and light.

Over the summer, I learned how to get out with Lola. We did swim lessons at our local outdoor salt water pool that sits mere feet from the Pacific Ocean. I soaked up every minute we were there. We also walked a lot, frequented the city wading pools, splashed at the spray park, met with friends, and ate from our very first garden. I started to feel the postpartum fog lifting. My hormones were still such a force on my body, but most days were manageable.


Life as a SAHM was becoming more routine. I often needed to pinch myself to be reminded that this was real life. And still do! Despite everything else being so hard, I never, ever have struggled with staying at home. I see my husband loving his career and putting in 110% effort, and that's exactly how I feel about my job. It's so easy for me to give it my all because God has given me a heart for my family and home. Sure there are crazy hard days, but I have never once wished I was anywhere else. I'm really thankful for this.

I don't plan to go back to work in a 9–5 way probably ever, but I do hope once the children are all school age to have the opportunity to spend more time being the crafty lady I love to be. Who knows what that looks like. In my first few months of work as a mama I would get all sorts of comments from others about ways I could fit "working" into being a mom. The thing is, being a SAHM is work. I have a job that I love and find completely satisfying. Arthur and I often talk about how staying at home is certainly not the easy route. In fact, it's one of the most demanding and exhausting jobs. My husband, children and home will forever be my first priority. I would hate more than anything to miss out on the opportunity to walk alongside my little people every day. The thought of doing anything else makes me well up. And frankly, with the intensity of my husband's job, I can't even imagine how we'd stay sane if we were both juggling career jobs and daycare.

Toward the end of summer, my husband began to slide into a mind-boggling busy season at work. For months on end he was working 70–100+ hours a week. This meant that any time he was awake he was working. The pressure was on. Not only was he busy, but that meant that I was also extra taxed with everything else that needed to get done at home. I took on everything that wasn't work and began to feel very lonely and angry through it all.



One day at women's study at church I was telling a friend about these lonely feelings and she said she could relate. She told me about times she had felt alone and how God had spoke to her and reminded her that He was her always-helper. She wasn't ever alone, and neither was I. Both of us had all the help we could ever need. While this didn't change my circumstances, this piece of truth often quieted my cries for help throughout this chaotic season, and it still does. I wanted practical help, but I also just wanted my best buddy back.

I remember one specific night being walked to bed to get tucked in for the umpteenth time by my husband and being so furious. I cried and bantered out loud with God hoping my husband would hear how "done" I was. I felt so angry that he was choosing work over family. I cried out from the bedroom remarks about how he didn't care about me and was idolizing work. I eventually lowered my sobs and immediately heard God speak for the second time ever to me: "I told him (husband) to work hard. Now obey me." It was undeniable. I told God "Okay" and went to sleep still angry but feeling confident in His authority over our life and the clear directive he gave me.

"I eventually lowered my sobs and immediately heard God speak for the second time ever to me: "I told him to work hard. Now obey me." It was undeniable. I told God "Okay" and went to sleep still angry but feeling confident in His authority over our life and the clear directive he gave me."

Through all of this, our marriage seemed to be growing stronger, surprisingly. I began learning how to serve my husband sacrificially. I grew in my dependence on the Lord and ability to be less emotionally reliant on my husband. I started going with the flow a little easier, which permeated my whole life. When we argued, by God's grace, we both began to show more humility and grace with one another. I was forced to figure out how to manage the house and our family on my own, a skill I'm grateful for now that he travels a lot. And, most importantly, I began to see God as my helper.



It was also during this time that we became pregnant with Baby K #2—three days after Lola's first birthday. Aside from the obvious elation, I was so scared about being pregnant and taking care of a toddler, all while my husband was hardly available. Thankfully I didn't end up dealing with much nausea at all and was able to keep up with the pace of life. And now, as I'm exhausted and huge, his work hours are much less. Although they'll likely pick up again right after the new baby arrives since fall and the holidays are his busy season.


We began slipping into the colder, darker seasons and I could sense my mood shifting. Lola was also so much more active and wanting me to entertain her. We tried to keep a full schedule, but there were many weeks that we hardly left the house because it was too cold and dreary to do anything else. We started talking about moving somewhere warmer so I could have sunshine all year round. This is still on the table, but we'll for sure be staying put for at least another two years because of Arthur's work obligations. I appreciate the seasons here in Seattle, but four months of wet, dark days stuck inside with a tiny person was really difficult on me.

Also during this time, I finally got in touch with our finances and basically learned we had no money and debt I did not expect. I freaked out and felt completely out of control. But Jesus very quickly quieted my heart with the truth that He is our provider and He would give us everything we needed each day. I really believed it, too! Jesus helped us work through this should-have-been-disaster situation with the tools he'd been teaching us about—grace, humility, and allowing His always and forever love for us influence our love for one another.


Ultimately, we needed help though. Neither of us knew anything about managing money in a way that honored God and needed help getting out of the financial predicament we were in. We weren't in deep water, so to speak, but things weren't how they should be, and we still had no financial plan for our future. I remembered hearing about Dave Ramsey from a few different Christian friends, so we searched him on the internet. Turns out he offered a 10 week Financial Peace University course that was designed for people exactly like us. We signed up and through it learned about God's will for his people and money. We also learned practical things like how to set up a budget, pay off debt quickly, manage money, and prepare for the future. This was a total game-changer for us and highly recommend it.


We finished up the 10 weeks and felt confident. I thought we were unified with a plan, but there ended up being more debt I wasn't aware of. Things were rocky, but God was our Rock. There were so many emotions flying around, but God was unwavering. He wanted me to show that same steadfastness to my husband. So, I told Arthur my desire to do this together, we grabbed hands and proverbially walked forward eager to tackle our debt and get our finances under control. There wasn't even a moment through this season where it wasn't clear to us why God had us here, we could see He was doing something big. It was humbling. All of this was His money and He wanted us to treat it that way. He wanted us to depend on Him, not financial security of our own doing. He was giving us tools for how to be wise with His money and teaching us that we are just stewards of it.


And now, we finally have a plan. We're unified in our goals. We are working so hard to be obedient to what God has called us to, to be debt free. That means everything—credit cards, car loans, student debt, everything except our house mortgage for now—and that's hard to do on one modest income. But we're getting close. We're about to sell our car and downgrade to a less expensive one in order to live within our means. We've paid off all our student debt. Our credit card is almost wiped clean. We stick to a tight food budget that is super uncomfortable most months. Life isn't easy right now, but it's so obviously God ordained.


As for motherhood, there definitely are hard moments, but the truth is that most aren't. My children and husband are such precious gifts whom I genuinely desire to serve and bless, and even though I don't always, thankfully God has more grace for me than I could ever need. Whether a SAHM or career mom, God uses motherhood to teach us love beyond ourself. At least for me, this journey has ultimately been about learning humility, and forever will be, I think. Even through the debt, anger, hormones, confusion, miscommunication, depression, and all the other difficult circumstances we've faced, God has remained so faithful. He's answered the prayers I screamed at the top of my lungs from the car, He's comforted my lonely heart when no one else could, He's loved me in the darkest moments when I've been so completely unlovable, He knows my heart's deepest longings. It's beyond me how I would have made it through this season without Jesus carrying my burdens.

I remember writing about this in one of my posts right after Lola was born. I briefly mentioned that I hoped to someday be able to share what was going on since I couldn't then—I had no perspective, I was right in the thick of it. I'm glad I can now, two years later. It's still a process. Marriage is still very hard. So are finances and life. But I'm maturing. There is so much evidence. Each time I am forced to face a difficult season, things start to feel a little easier on the other side. It's a pattern I see God using over and over. I want to persevere and be steadfast through these seasons because I have just enough wisdom now to know that usually the hardest times produce the most brilliant, juicy fruit that makes the trial so, so worth it.

This was an intimate post for me to share with you, dear friends. I've been waiting for just the right moment to release these stories and words. I'm praying for all you mommies reading this and relating to anything I've said. Transitioning to motherhood has been one of the most difficult seasons for me. And isn't it such a sweet gift to be able to look back and see growth—in us, our children, our marriage, in relationships, in life circumstances that never felt like they'd change, in our understanding of God's goodness? I think so.




More from our Postpartum Series:

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

A Postpartum Series: Body image, Part 1

Update: View Part 2 of this Body Image series here.

This is a tough one. Mostly because body image is just such a hot spot for most women. I am writing this post to be honest about my journey, struggles, and the areas Jesus has redeemed for me. I hope you will fight any urge to compare yourself to me, good or bad.

Once I got pregnant with Lola, I immediately felt beautiful, womanly. Nothing about my changing figure bothered me a bit. I embraced every day my belly grew, and hardly gained any weight until about halfway through pregnancy. By 18 weeks I was only six pounds up from my pre-pregnancy weight. Overall, I felt fantastic.



I did notice by the end that my face had gotten puffier, but wasn't concerned at all. I figured that was all water weight and would slip off within a few months postpartum with nursing and keeping active. By my 40th week, I think I had gained somewhere around 35 pounds—healthy and very normal. I gained a few stretch marks right on the underside of my belly in the final four weeks, which was disappointing, but definitely not the end of the world. Despite my new stripes, I was still feeling lovely and totally embraced my shape.


I gave birth to Lola and immediately my belly was gone with just a little one in its place. I couldn't believe my silhouette in the mirror just hours after giving birth. My stomach wasn't all that droopy either, just a slight bulge. I was feeling good about my postpartum figure. Here I am one week postpartum.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Second Pregnancy: How we found out

I can't even explain how fast this pregnancy is going. Last time, each day ticked by so slow I could hardly stand it. I was working 9–5, almost two years less wise, anxious to know what motherhood was all about, and even more curious to experience labor and birth. So much is different now. Not only am I busy keeping up with a 15 month old toddler day to day, but I kind of know what to expect this next time around. I'm just much more relaxed.






I don't plan to blog in the same way I did last time. It just seems redundant. But I definitely hope to share about this pregnancy along the way. I would imagine an update every month should suffice. I can tell already that there just isn't as much to talk about. My appointments with my midwives are an hour long and it's quickly becoming more difficult to fill that time. Two years ago I had so many questions and ideas.

I do think it would be fun to recap the first trimester and share some of our highlights so far, which is what I plan to do over the next few weeks. To start off, I'd love to share with you some of our journey to getting pregnant and how we found out, very similar to this post from almost two years ago! And for those wondering, I am currently between 14 and 15 weeks, due July 22, 2014.

We decided we'd start trying for another baby in October, when Lola turned one. We liked the idea of having our children somewhere around two years apart. However, I wasn't even sure I was ovulating despite having a regular period since six months postpartum. I had heard a lot about anovulatory cycles and we hadn't been using any form of birth control since Lola was born. Although we weren't actively trying, I was always surprised every month I had a period and wasn't pregnant... hence my suspicion of anovulatory cycles. I was also still breastfeeding, which I knew could be a very valid reason for irregular cycles.  

As we began to near the year mark, I started talking with my doctor, a naturopath, about my cycle, balancing hormones, and wanting to get pregnant. She suggested I buy a digital ovulation kit to see if and when I was ovulating. This is the one she recommended and I used. It was super simple and easy to read, opposed to the less expensive strips that can be hard to decipher. It shows a smiley face on days that you're fertile and a circle for every other day. I bought a kit in September and began testing every day starting about a week after the onset of my period. Around 10 days in I continued to get negatives, but was feeling potential symptoms of ovulation, as I had previous months. And then the one day I really thought was it, I eagerly got in position and the test holder died. Womp womp.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Lola's Birth Story: Part 4

In case you missed it, here are our posts from our two weeks of early labor and part one, two and three of Lola's birth story. What a joy it has been to relive this blessed story. Next I will be posting my thoughts on our birth experience and can't wait to share those with you all! 

Lola's Birth Story: Part 2
Lola's Birth Story: Part 3

Without further ado, the conclusion of Lola's birth story:

I started to push with each contraction. Arthur was to my left supporting my head with each set of pushes. I held his hand so tight. “Okay, I’m ready to push,” I would hurriedly shout. Curled forward, with my hands pulling the back of my legs toward me, I gave it my all. By the third push I could do nothing more than shift my weight backward and crash into the bed. My breathing was hurried and shallow. Matilda reminded me to breathe deep.

With Matilda holding my left leg and Jen holding my right, I pushed and pushed...and pushed. My contractions were getting strong. The intensity in my hips was getting away from me. Where the heck was Fra Na? Why did everyone else seem to think that this baby wasn’t coming anytime soon? The room felt too casual.

Finally she arrived. I continued to push. “You’re doing so great. You’re making so much progress,” I was repeatedly told. I didn’t believe them. If I was doing so well, then why wasn’t the baby out? I hated the pep talking and at one point screamed profanity at Arthur and the rest of the room to stop. I wanted to hear concrete evidence that things were progressing. I told Matilda to stop telling me I was strong and could do this. I already believed that. I wanted them to tell me what the hell was going on, but I couldn’t find the words or energy to articulate this.

“We can see her head! Arthur saw her head!” Matilda exclaimed. Finally! I’ve got this! I figured I had a few more pushes to go. Breathe, push, breathe, push, breathe, push. And again...and again. Nothing was happening. No one was explaining anything. What happened to her head crowning? I felt so out of the loop, yet was the center of attention.

I started to lose hope with each passing contraction. I was exhausted. The hip pain was becoming too much. “MY HIPS!” I screamed as my body fell back into the bed after each contraction. Matilda tried digging in, hoping that counterpressure would give me some relief. I hated it, but didn’t have any better ideas.

Fra Na suggested I try pushing laying on my side. I didn’t want to, but didn’t have the energy to fight back. They rolled me over. I cried the entire time. My hips were in excruciating pain. I felt like I needed to vomit, but desperately didn’t want to. “I hate this!” I shouted over and over until they rolled me on my back just one worthless contraction later. I could sense Fra Na was starting to realize just how much pain I was in.

“I can’t do this!” I began to scream through each set of pushes. My hips were on fire. In a concerned tone, Fra Na asked more about the pain I was feeling. “It’s my hips! I don’t know! They hurt so bad,” I sobbed. She admitted she didn’t know what was going on. My midwife, the one who has been doing this for probably over 30 years, had no idea what was happening to me or how to fix it. The room was hot and fuzzy. I started to seriously doubt whether I could keep going. I figured a c-section was imminent.



Fra Na urged me to wait to push until the peak of each contraction. I began to long for pushing since that seemed to be the only thing to dull the pain radiating through my hips. It seemed that one set of pushes would be pure insanity and the next would bring enough relief to keep me going. It wasn’t consistent though, so I never knew what to expect. All I knew was that laying still during an oncoming contraction was pure hell. I still never had any urge to push despite being able to feel my contractions so clearly.

Nearly two hours had passed. I was mentally giving up, but I had no option to physically. I felt stuck. And then Fra Na spoke up in a calm and understanding voice, “I can call the OB in to help with the vacuum, if you are feeling like you need some help.” The world paused for about one second, just long enough for me to filter through my memory to recall learning in birth class that the vacuum was a relatively safe intervention. I hardly had to think about it. YES! How quickly can they get here?

I continued to push, hardly ever opening my eyes. I had only one thing to focus on. Arthur tells me the OB arrived, Dr. Goepfert, and just stood in the back of the room for ten minutes watching me push. I flooded the room with screaming. I am certain I was heard throughout the entire birth center. The pain—bad pain—was all consuming. None of this was what I expected from childbirth. And quite frankly, I don’t think it was typical childbirth pain. Nobody knew what was happening.

Finally, I heard in a cold voice, “Alright, Kelsey, I’m Dr. Goepfert. I’m here to help with the vacuum. In order for me to help you, you are going to have to push the baby farther down. Once I can get to the head, I will attach the vacuum and help, but you are going to still have to push. If this doesn’t work, the next step will be a c-section.” I was so annoyed. I needed encouragement, not to discuss what-ifs. With my eyes wide open, I stared her in the face and snapped, “Don’t tell me that! We’ll talk about that if I get there!” That was the most I had spoke in hours. I absolutely hated her in the moment and regretted the decision to bring her in. It was around 1 a.m.. I continued to push.

“I CAN’T DO THIS!!!! F*$%!!!!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. That was it. I was done. I thought about how I’d rather have a c-section than go on. I was in so much pain. “Yes you can. You have to do it, Kelsey,” Dr. Goepfert snapped back in a no nonsense tone. I hated the harsh way she was talking to me. I wanted to yell at her and tell her how awful she was, but couldn’t find my voice. So I did what she told me to, I pushed.

Somewhere during this period, I accepted an offer to have the anesthesiologist come back in and give me another dose of epidural. Within minutes she literally came running into the room, medicine in hand, ready to drug me up to the max. I could have cared less what was flowing through my body at this point. I was writhing in the bed. My hips were now in constant torture. I arched my back and contorted my body every which way to try to find a position that would let me catch my breath. It felt very visceral. I was living moment to moment, each second was different.

This woman was tender and sweet. I wished she was my delivering OB. She gave me a new dose, but nothing took effect. I asked if she could give me more, but she said I was at the max she could give without a c-section. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

I opened my eyes just long enough to survey the scene. The night sky was pitch black and peaceful looking. The room was dark with just a spotlight looming over my lower half. I could sense people standing in the dark perimeter of the room. Fra Na was quietly supporting my right leg. Matilda was at my left. Arthur was on the front lines standing right next to me. The poor guy was getting pretty beat up, but never once complained. Everyone seemed poised and ready.

I continued to push, now in sets of four. I felt myself losing consciousness during pushes and wondered if I could pass out from pushing. The thought terrified me so I forced myself to breathe deep. I was parched and demanded an ice chip in between each set, but was so nauseous that I could only take in one tiny chip each time. I was burning up. Fra Na got me a wet washcloth and placed it on my chest. It was on fire within seconds. I subconsciously created a ritual of flipping it between sets to the slightly cooler side. This was my saving grace in these moments and no one dare touch it—Arthur learned this the hard way.

I hated the pain, but had no other choice left than to lean into it. I think it may have been a combination of a bit of relief from the second epidural and general acceptance of the circumstances that gave me just enough energy. I pushed harder than ever. I was finally ready to meet my baby.

“Just a few more pushes, Kelsey!” Dr. Goepfert announced in an excited voice. I decided I didn’t hate her afterall. She attached the vacuum without skipping a beat. “Don’t stop pushing! Keep going!” she yelled.

The next rush. “I’m ready to push!” I shouted for the millionth time. I did four pushes. “Do another” she directed me. I obliged and crashed backward. Seconds later, the next rush. “Go for it, push hard!” I heard voices shout. The room was cheering me on and the excited energy was palpable. I pushed with everything in me. I pushed four times. “Just keep pushing!” everyone shouted in unison. PUSH FIVE! “Here she comes!” PUSH SIX! “Her head is out!” PUSH...

“She’s out!” I caught a glimpse and crashed into the bed, hysterically crying all the while. My world went blank.



She was immediately cut and rushed to the warmer two feet away to suction her mouth of any meconium. Our one minute apart felt the same as one second. My mind was spinning, but my body was limp. Before I could even comprehend she was out, she was back with me, chest to chest.

I just stared and sobbed. “Touch your baby!” Matilda enthusiastically said. Oh right. I shifted my right hand slowly toward her eventually meeting my hand to her wet skin. I rested it on her back and didn’t move. I felt her tiny spine. The sensation this created on my fingers will never escape me. I shifted my gaze toward Arthur who was just inches from my face. “This is our baby,” he gently whispered to me. He looked exhausted, but elated. He went back to staring at her.



Ecstasy swept over me. I fell in love. I wasn’t scared of her anymore. I couldn’t see anything but the dark hair on the top of her head. I desperately wanted to see what her face looked like, but was happy that Arthur could see her. I could wait. I began to feel around by rubbing my hand up and down her back. Her skin was so soft.



After a handful of minutes, I looked past her and realized business was going on down below me. “Have I delivered my placenta?” I asked. “Oh yes! It’s out and it looks great,” Matilda replied. I heard Dr. Goepfert talking and could see her focused on doing something to me. What is going on? Someone, maybe Fra Na, replied and told me I was getting stitched up. My attention shifted from my new family of three to trying to comprehend why my legs were sitting high up in stirrups and I wasn’t relaxing in bed.

The adrenaline was wearing off. My hips burned and ached. I asked when I could put them down, but was told that there was still quite a bit of stitching to do and that I had a hefty internal tear, likely from the vacuum. I was mostly numb from the local anesthetic, but could feel sharp pinching every few seconds. I struggled to focus on the baby. I was in such pain still and desperately wanted to be left alone.



As if that wasn’t enough, every couple minutes a nurse kneaded my belly with her hands to make my uterus contract. I cried out every time she leaned her weight into me. “Stop, stop!” I shrieked though clenched teeth over and over. All I looked forward to during those three hours of pushing was rest with my new baby, but instead got an additional hour of excruciating discomfort added on to the 39 hours of childbirth I had just endured. I was so caught off guard.

About 45 minutes in, I turned to Matilda and tearfully pleaded with her to make them stop. I wanted everyone to go away. The adrenaline was gone. I was crashing fast. I hadn’t slept more than a couple hours in over two days and just wanted to sleep. But instead, with tears rolling down my face, I just laid there, hardly able to hold on to the little warm baby on my chest.



Finally, over an hour postpartum, Dr. Goepfert announced the last stitch was in. My legs were let down and Lola was turned toward me so I could see her face. I didn’t recognize her, but she was beautiful. I laid my head back and we rested together while the room got cleaned up. Within an hour it looked as good as new and no one would have ever suspected a birth had just happened. Arthur and I talked while Matilda stood close by. The room was dimly lit and peaceful. I couldn’t believe she was here.



Matilda prompted me to start nursing early on since Lola was rooting pretty heavily, but I really wanted our first moments together to be relaxed, so I told her I wanted to wait until everything was over and I could enjoy it. After an hour of getting stitched up, and another hour of relaxing and giving Arthur a chance to hold the baby, she suggested it again. I was so tired and just wanted to sleep, but knew how important this was to establishing our breastfeeding relationship, so I told her I’d give it a try. I was pretty nervous, but let Matilda guide me through the motions.



Lola latched on right away, although magic didn’t seem to be happening. We continued working at it for about a half an hour when I announced I just needed to sleep. I figured Arthur and Lola would agree. So after getting cleaned up, some fresh linens put on my bed, and swaddling our sweet baby girl, we settled in for our first rest as a family of three.




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