The Lows That Are Only Whispered

The thing about motherhood is growth. Learning every day about what is new and how it can benefit your child as well as yourself. But there are aspects that I was not prepared for, let alone felt like I could talk about. There tend to be stigmas and what seems like information gate keeping at times. Internal thoughts that can plague you as well as a lack of general information. You can study all you want to try and get yourself ready, but you won’t know what actually works for you until you are at that moment and have to try.

When I got pregnant with my daughter, my partner and I did what research we could, tried to get a list together of what we would need, and in general do what we could to prepare ourselves. We went to every doctor’s appointment, followed every doctor’s instructions, and did whatever we could do. But then the tides started to take a turn. Tests and ultrasounds started showing that something was off and if I wanted to be able to hold full term, I would need some extra help. I didn’t like the fact that I needed to get it and a stitch to ensure I could hold my daughter the full 9 months. I felt like my body was failing me and that there was something wrong with me. The doctors told me that this happens and that there are plenty of women that needed the help, but I still didn’t like it. But one hospital trip and a Cerclage later, we were back on the road to our first child.

Enter the next issues that I was not expecting nor ready for. Because of the Cerclage stitch, the doctor recommended that I would have an epidural during childbirth to ensure the best conditions for delivery, and I agreed. There were already complications before, so why would I want there to be anymore? I was going to take the medical advice given to me. That is until I talked to other moms. Whether it would be coworkers, family or friends, I would get questioned about the pregnancy and what I was going to do as time went on. Which in itself is common and understandable. All would be well with the conversations, until I talked about the Cerclage, or the fact that I would want the epidural. People tried explaining that I was denying myself real childbirth by doing the epidural. Or that it wasn’t “proper”. That once again, I was denying myself being a real mother. Even had someone tell me that by getting the Cerclage I was intervening with the powers that be and I shouldn’t have gotten it. That if I was supposed to lose my daughter then that is what was supposed to happen. It hurt, it all hurt so deeply to do what ever I could to keep my daughter and be able to go full term, to be able to hold her in my arms, and not just in my belly, and still have it explained that what I was doing was wrong. Every pregnancy is different, and every mother has to make the decisions that would be best for her, but it hurt immensely to be told that my decisions were mocked or discredited.

I stopped talking about the pregnancy much because I didn’t want to be hit with the stigmas anymore, I didn’t want to be told that I was wrong for this or wrong for that. My partner and I continued to do as the doctors instructed, and I kept my head down. It seemed to be better that way, easier. But the thoughts of what those women had told me still haunted me as time went on. Months slipped by, and I got rounder and the baby got bigger. She was healthy, and that’s all I let matter to me. We continued to prepare and build what we needed in our home so we were ready to bring our little girl into the world and bring her home. A week before she was due, I started getting dizzy, and short of breath, something seemed off, and I had no idea what to do. Off to the doctor we went, to find out that my blood pressure and heart rate were through the roof and I would have to have be induced before she was due. I was scared, scared that I had done something that could hurt the baby, scared that my body was failing me once again. But once at the hospital doctors explained that I was being induced because I was already starting to go into labor, but my body wasn’t fully keeping up, hence the rising blood pressure.

Once again I was faced with decisions to make, go with pain management while I waited or not. Should I get the epidural or not? My partner was fully understanding and helped in any way he could. He listened and let me know his opinions but said that it would ultimately be my decision, that he wanted what was necessary to ensure a smooth delivery for both myself and our daughter. I agreed, though I still had the hurtful words in my head from the women I had talked to, I pressed forward and went with our original decisions, pain management until necessary and then move to the epidural as time and contractions went on. 24 hours of labor and 20 mins of delivery later, my daughter was laying on my chest, and she was the most precious thing in the world. I was happy that I didn’t listen to the naysayers, because my daughter was healthy and in my arms, and that’s all that mattered.

I thought that would be the end of the stigmas and the whispers, the lows that I had been facing, boy was I wrong. They say that the first three months of life with a baby are always the hardest, and that is indeed true. But what no one tells you is how it truly affects the mind. Every new mother has the risk of going through postpartum depression. Nothing wrong with that because your emotions and hormones are all over the place. You are sleep-deprived and still trying to figure out what is going on while your body is trying to heal. According to my charts and tests I was also at risk for PPD, but felt like I couldn’t discuss that or what was going through my head with anyone but my partner and my doctors. I was told “it’s not proper to talk about that” acting like 1 in 10 women don’t get it after having a child. Most do recover and as weeks went on my scores went down, and I was out of the woods, but it already left an impression that if I was going through something, it wasn’t right to talk about it.

Then the next trial got thrown my way. At first, I was able to keep up with breastfeeding my daughter, and all was well. But by the end of the first month, I was having trouble keeping up and once again I didn’t know what to do. The pediatrician recommended feeding her when I could while I could and supplementing with formula. And if needed, switching to formula all together. My OBGYN agreed, that I needed to do what was best for my family and for myself. And at first I was fine with that. But once again I had the voices of others around me telling me that I was wrong, that I needed to try harder to breastfeed. That breastfeeding was the better way to go and that I was once again denying myself the ways of being a “real” mother. I was starting to question what that statement actually meant. In my eyes, every mother that does what ever they can for their child is a real mother. Why is that when I was doing whatever I could and following doctors advice, I still wasn’t enough?

Don’t get me wrong, my partner did everything he could to help combat what others said, telling me that we would stick to listening to the doctors and do what we needed for ourselves. That what mattered was the health of our daughter. And he was right, still is. But that doesn’t stop the hurtful words from hurting, from spinning around your head at 3 in morning while staring at the ceiling between feedings. It seemed whatever decision I made in the pregnancy, to my daughters first few months, outsiders told me I was wrong. And sooner or later you start thinking that you can’t do anything right. Then I started realizing that I actually didn’t need the naysayers in my life. If they weren’t going to be supportive then why were they there? Why did I let their words hurt me or affect me when I was doing everything I could? I didn’t know.

Then one day while out running errands, I met a mother with a shirt that changed my perspective. “Mind Your Own Motherhood” it said, and I loved it. Told her so and this stranger looked at me with a smile that said “I see you, I understand you” and told me that as much as we want to have the advice of others to help guide us, that we shouldn’t let other peoples words dictate us. Each mothers journey is unique and shouldn’t be discredited for what they have to do for themselves and their children. And that was the best advice I had received by any outside party. Its one thing when you hear it from your partner or those that are in your corner, because though they matter, you start to feel like they are telling you what you want to hear. But here was this complete stranger that reiterated all those gentle voices with a few words of wisdom and a simple homemade t-shirt.

Despite what everyone tries to tell us, or dictate us to do, the journey is our own. And I am here to say that I understand the struggle. The lows that are reached, the ones you feel like you can only whisper, or not say at all in fear of being deterred, or told you aren’t enough. To any mother that is struggling. I see you, I understand the struggle, and I want you to know you are not alone in the pain that can come along with learning. But I also want it to be expressed, that this is your journey to take, to learn from and follow. Listen to your doctors, listen to the gentle voices in your corner encouraging you. Block out the naysayers and do what you need to do for your family. Mind your own Motherhood. That should be what matters.