Back when I was a teenager, living in the bay area, running around doing hoodrat shit with my friends, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would live on an acre, own 3 dogs, a cat, 4 chickens, and two pigs. Nor did I ever imagine that I would give birth to my son in the passenger side of our Dodge Ram...but I did.
So here's the story, Tuesday night I had mexican food. Tacos Los Altos to be exact, if you live in Flagstaff and you are reading this you likely nodded your head and then thought of their rolled tacos or carne asada fries. Anyways, we had mexican food, put Holiday to bed and went to bed myself. Well actually I ended up writing my last blog post because although exhausted I could not fall asleep. Went to bed around 11:30 and woke up at 2:00 with what I thought was revenge of Tacos Los Altos. But then I realized no, this was something different, these were contractions and painful ones at that. Just to give you a little bit of background, I have an "irritable uterus" which how an organ can have feelings I will never know, its kind of that whole "depressed vagina" thing I guess...but whatever. So basically I had been contracting for weeks, painful? no, uncomfortable? yes and SUPER annoying. But they don't accomplish anything so I ignore them. The contractions I had this time around we not irritable uterus contractions, these bad boys were INTENSE and freaking PAINFUL AF. So I jumped in the shower in an attempt to get them to calm down which they did, kinda... Well as soon as I got back into bed they started with a vengeance... psh screw revenge of Tacos Los Altos, this was revenge of my irritable uterus! and it was GO Time! So my husband is rushing through the house trying to gather everyone's things (Mama Tip: Have hospital and baby bag packed at like 36 weeks just in case, this saved our ass) He grabs Holiday and all the while I feel like I'm GOING. TO. DIE. and because we live in the boonies I have to hop in the truck and ride for 20 minutes to the hospital... Well, we get in the truck and because my husband is my husband it definitely did not take us 20 minutes to get to the hospital (Thanks babe) I don't know how long it took, but what I can tell you is in those minutes I was coming out of my skin, it was a pain that just thinking about it blows my mind. Hands down the worst pain of my entire life. We get to the 3rd level of the FMC parking garage and park. I look at Steve and tell him "I need to push" and he looks at me and says "No no no you don't" with a look of complete terror. From the time it took for him to walk to the passenger side of the truck I had already pushed and my son's head was out. My poor husband ran into the hospital to get help and within seconds he was back with two amazing nurses who found my son with his cord tightly wrapped around his neck. She removed it from around his neck and asked me to push one more time, and he was born. However he didn't make a sound... I got into the wheelchair and they covered him with blankets and told me to rub him over and over to keep him warm. As they hurried me to the labor and delivery department I kept asking if my baby was alive if he was ok and the nurse ever so calmly kept telling me to just keep rubbing him, which is exactly what I did. When we got into the room that I shouldve had my child in, the cord was quickly cut and my baby was taken by a wonder special care team. I was taken to a bed to finish the delivery process, but my eyes stayed fixated on the side of the room where 4 people worked diligently on my son. It felt like being on the teacups at disneyland. You can see people and things around you but things are moving so fast that you can't focus and everything becomes this big blur. But when this particular teacup stopped, they put my son in my arms and good Lord Christ in heaven he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I have to be honest, I was terrified my whole pregnancy. I was scared that by being pregnant and bringing another baby in our family that I was taking something away from my daughter. I was afraid of having and going through postpartum depression, I was afraid of the approaching sleepless nights and starting all over again with a new baby. But most of all I was terrified I would not be able to connect with this new baby, how could I possibly love anything or anyone as much as I love my daughter. How do I split my heart, my time, my attention? But this insane experience that God gave me has me looking at this an entirely new way. I am powerful and strong, I mean seriously, I had a baby med free in the passenger seat of our truck. I am resilient, like my gorgeous son who although born with a cord wrapped tightly around his neck is perfect and healthy. I have the most amazing husband who moved through the chaos with quick and steady thinking and of course superb driving skills. I have learned that your heart grows... I love both of my babies in a way I didnt think I could love, my heart literally just doubled in size. And the balance...well that will come, I am taking one day at a time because I only have control over a very very small portion of it all.
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I have been really struggling lately.
I have spent two seperate days in the labor & delivery department, which I think may have spawned a little bit of PTSD. I’ve been sick as shit and I think the general feeling of well, being pregnant is catching up to me. I had a mini meltdown Saturday night watching the nutcracker with my family. All because the thought of a tiny baby joining us in that moment was so ridiculously overwhelming. I had flashbacks of holding Holiday and feeling sad, anxious, overwhelmed and alone. And then came the tears, all those damn, stupid tears. I kept repeating to myself, this will be a totally different experience. I’m not a rookie anymore. All those things that made me so anxious, really shouldn’t make me anxious any longer. But at the same time, I remember after having Holiday my sister saying to me, “you thought you had anxiety before? Welcome to mom anxiety - which never goes away.” Which by the way is completely and utterly true. I was a worrier, a worst case scenario thinker before, but becoming a mom made me a nervous wreck. And although I would like to think of myself as a semi seasoned mom, this never ever goes away. Almost two years later, I am still a nervous wreck. I have begun to fill my arsenal, reading articles and blogs about acupuncture and supplements. Contacting a counselor, whom I am SUPER excited to start seeing. (Who gets excited to see a counselor LOL?) Deciding how I am going to exercise once cleared to do so. Making checklists and schedules, because when you’re Type A lists make the world spin. Anything that will help, or at least make me feel like I have some sort of control over all of this. My husband keeps reminding me that “we got this”. He laid down next to me on the couch as I am bawling and said to me “Sam, you beat this already. You KNOW that you can get through it.” And let me tell you, two sentences have never held so much weight nor have I repeated them to myself so many times. I guess it must be the unknown. An unknown different from the first time around. You see, the first time the unknown is ignorance, which may not be blissful, but there are no concrete expectations. The second time around, although I know what to expect, the thought of it being different; good or bad, scares me. Which now saying that outloud, or typing it rather, makes zero sense. But I bet my fellow veteran moms know exactly what I am talking about. Everything from labor and delivery, to breastfeeding, to his first day and night here at home, it’s all a mystery but one that I unfortunately have these foggy anxiety filled memories of. I have been praying, A LOT. I prayed and meditated when I was going through PPD the first time. I sometimes end of feeling guilty because I feel that I am using God as some magic lamp - rub it three times and ask him to nod his head and cure me, or whatever. As much as I would like to give the credit to him of leading me out of the darkness with Holiday, it wasn’t just him. But it sure as shit helped, divine intervention maybe? Or maybe someone to just talk to, to unburden my heart to.... I really wanted to make this blog entry fun, gush over the cool new gadgets and doo dads I’ve been collecting for Wyatt’s arrival. And fawn over the fact that Holiday has been lifting my shirt and kissing my belly goodnight every night. But, my heart and my mind are burdened and I needed to type, read and share my thoughts so that they didn’t rot inside of me. And this helps, so thanks for listening friends. :) Xoxo, Sam So as of today we are T-minus 38 days out from my little man's due date. This pregnancy has gone by so. damn. fast its not even funny. No seriously, not funny, in the way that I almost feel less prepared for this kid than I did with my daughter, who sits here happily on my lap watching Netflix as I type away. #momoftheyear Don't get me wrong, I have almost everything that we need Car seat - Check Bassinet - Check Swing - Check Pump - Check Blah, blah, blah But mentally I'm SO not ready, not even freaking close. So let me give you a little bit of background. My first pregnancy with my daughter was amazing until about 30 weeks, which is when it turned into a shit show... two words, Magnesium Sulfate. Labor and delivery was pretty damn easy but the 4 to 6 months that followed were the hardest of my entire life. I had the worst post partum depression and anxiety and became a completely different person, one I to this day don't even recognize. That being said I have been terrified from the moment that the pee stick showcased those two little lines. Why?, because there is no possible way to prepare for the darkness. But wait, let me check myself before I take off into the gloom and doom. There may not be a way to prepare for it, but there is several sure as shit ways to kick its ass. Enter, this blog. I read hundreds of blog posts about post partum depression and anxiety. No, I'm not kidding...HUNDREDS. I found them SO helpful, because when you are in the darkness you feel like you are the only mama in the history of the world that is scared to hold her beautiful baby, or who cries when your husband leaves the house or who just wants to run the fuck away. I hope to God that I can help even one mama who is in that space. AND hopefully by doing so I can keep one foot outside of the darkness as I start this new journey. So welcome to Unlatched Love xx, Sam |
AuthorFull time working mama, anxious /introvert & sometimes chronic over sharer. On the wild runaway train of raising a pre-teen stepdaughter, a sassy toddler and welcoming a newborn. Archives
February 2018
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