One Year

My baby turned one yesterday!

I left for work when he was asleep so I didn’t see his beautiful face until the evening. Then it was hustle and bustle until his bedtime as usual. I sang “happy birthday” to him while I was changing his diaper but that was about it. We’re having a party for him on Sunday but yesterday  we didn’t really do much. It was just a regular day. In hindsight I think we should have gone out to dinner to at least celebrate the fact that we made it through this year.

Upon reflection, I obviously count myself lucky in that we managed to beat tremendous odds to even have a child. Someone PM’d me on Instagram once and said “You did FIVE rounds of IVF?!!”. I was taken aback at her surprise because when you’re in the thick of treatments you tend to bounce back from disappointment as quick as you can and just power on. I still don’t think I’ve appreciated the gravity of doing 5 rounds of IVF. Perhaps the fact that I have my miracle it seems like it wasn’t so bad. But I know. I know it was bad. I remember the tears and the anger and the jealousy. I remember. But I think maybe I’ve healed a bit… A bit.

This morning I had to drive to work an hour early because I’m leaving an hour early for Lucky’s 1 year well visit at the doctor’s. I was immediately transported to the time when I had to wake up 2hrs early and drive over an hour in the pitch black dark to my monitoring appointments. I remember at the time feeling hopeful and excited to get numbers and nervous if it was a beta draw. This morning as I was doing the drive I thought, with some annoyance, that I’d have to do this again, multiple times, if I ever hoped to have another child. The unfairness of it all hit me really hard.

It sucks. It sucks that it’s not a sure thing. It sucks driving 2+hrs every other day for 2 weeks for something that is not a sure thing. It sucks that I only have one cycle left on insurance so it’s even less of a sure thing. It sucks it sucks it sucks.

But yes, I would 100% do it again in a heart beat. I’d get up in 20 degree weather and drive my cold ass up to where ever to get my blood drawn for the umpteenth time. Hell yeah, I’ll stick myself with a gazillion needles with medication that gives me searing headaches. Sign me up.

Because, and here comes the cliche… It’s so worth it. He’s was so worth it.

In the greater scheme of things he’s been such and easy going little guy. His sleep has finally, for the most part, adjusted and he sleeps through the night. He does have some nights when he’s up every hour so we can’t rest on our laurels but we’re not nearly as sleep deprived as we once were.

He also, up until recently, ate everything you gave him, which is amazing. But the past week or so he’s starting to spit things out so maybe that honeymoon is over. He’s been eating peas all week this week and I don’t know what else to give him.

He has a bit of stranger danger going on. His Christmas pics with Santa were a wash and the other night he cried so bitterly when our friend picked him up. We think it’s beards that he doesn’t like because he just loves the ladies.

He’s not walking yet but I think he’ll surprise us soon. He’s doing everything except taking that one step.

He understands a good amount of words and says “hi” allll the tiiiime and it never gets old, it’s just so cute. He knows a few animal sounds if ask him and he knows a few body parts too. He copies the intonation in our voices when we speak which is just the funniest but I’m definitely going to have a son who drops eff bombs because I can’t watch my mouth.

He is quite dramatic though. I’m sure they all are at this age but he’s in a smacking and growling phase which we don’t know what to do about. We’re trying to ignore it now in hopes that he’ll realize he won’t get a reaction if he does it but it’s tough because it hurts and we don’t know where he picked it up. If he gets frustrated he growls and claws at our faces. He does it to everything though. Toys and teddies. I hope it doesn’t last long. It’s my least favourite of the phases right now. Especially when mixed with my most favourite phase, the kisses. So he’ll kiss me then growl and smack me then throw his head back and cry for no reason!!! So dramatic.

I think that’s it for the one year update. All in all, this part of the journey has been very smoothe. He’s not been sick (knock on wood because he’s been sniffly). He’s generally even tempered (when not frustrated). He’s an absolute champion when we’re out in public. I really think we lucked out with this one. He’s great.

Hopefully it won’t be another year until the next update. But just between you and I, we (N and I) are in talks over a sibling for little Lucky. Perhaps when the craziness of this year is over we can iron out the details in earnest but it’s nice for us to be on the same page but I do have to work through this fear of failure before we proceed. I really just wish it could be a sure thing.

My brother and sister-in-law and niece and nephew are coming to stay with us for Christmas. The land tomorrow evening and I am beside myself with excitement. Tomorrow is also my last day of work for 2018 so I’m really beside myself. I want to wish all of you a very awesome Christmas and an even awesomer New Year. If this holiday season is a struggle for you, I hope that you’re able to find joy in something and cling to it with all your might. This is season is a mixed bag for me. I love it but I hate it because I’m the most homesick. I’m looking forward to being surrounded by N’s family (and a small portion of mine EEEK!) but I am also dreading when my brother leaves because I know I will be inconsolable. I’ve actually booked a therapy appointment for the day after they leave, just for added support.

Anyway, I’ve rambled on for long enough. I think of all of you often and I hope everyone is taking care of themselves.

xx

 

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You guys!

Sasha and Malia Obama were conceived by IVF??!!!

Whaaaat!!

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-46154857

My friend sent me this article yesterday morning and I refused to believe it but here it is. I’m still hesitant to post this in case someone comes out to say that it’s fake. I know (and love) that celebrities are coming out and opening up about IVF and fertility struggles. It’s just awesome.

And for me, personally, I like that it’s come nicely on the heels of news of the new royal baby.

 

 

 

U.S.A.

That was quite a break huh? A gazillion things have happened in my life since I last checked in and promised that I wouldn’t check out.

First and most importantly, I became a US citizen! I really should have blogged about this while it was happening. I actually spend most nights thinking, I should blog about this, about everything.

I put my application in for citizenship mid April and really didn’t expect to go through the process that quickly. My interview was the day after my 37th birthday in August. It wasn’t a requirement but I brought N and Lucky with to the interview for brownie points.

The interviewer was a tiny young lady who was really sweet. The interview itself was an absolute breeze. I answered all of the questions correctly but don’t remember which were asked (I really should have blogged about this). She literally only asked me to confirm what was on my application. I then signed a few things and that was that.

The ceremony was the day that school started. One of the most important days for me at my job so I was happy but stressed that I couldn’t be there. The ceremony invitation clearly stated that I could only bring one guest which was such a bummer because my friends and US family wanted to be there and I wanted them to be there. And it was even more of a bummer when N and I got to the venue and all the other new citizens brought loads of guests and so many babies. I was so sad. Anyway, the ceremony was long. No, the actual ceremony was 15 minutes. Waiting for the judge?… TWO HOURS!!!

They funneled all of us into the huge hall while our guests sat upstairs in the gallery. It took about an hour to get everyone settled in. They kept coming up to make announcements and tell us to chat to each other. I sat next to a Russian (I think) couple who were chatting to themselves and a younger lady who was not at all interested in making friends. So I just sat on my phone and listened to conversations around me. One man from Israel who had been here for years but thought it was time, chatting to his new friend who couldn’t get a word in edgewise. And another lady yelling on the phone to her colleague that she didn’t know they would be taking her green card so she would likely not be able to take that business trip to Australia.

Almost 2 hours later right before the judge came in the couple next to me peaced out. I have no idea why, I assumed to go the bathroom but they never came back. So they didn’t do the pledge and I never saw them again so I don’t know if they got their certificate. I wonder about them sometimes.

After I got the official documents we grabbed lunch at a chinese buffet then rushed home. N had to get back to work and Lucky and I just spent the rest of the day hanging out. Sort of anti-climactic. No fireworks or parades. Just me and my boy watching reality tv. You know, living the American dream.

But truth be told this journey to become a citizen is something else. I’m fortunate, in that I get to retain my SA citizenship which I absolutely did and even then I found it very difficult to surrender that part of my identity. A part of me felt like I was turning my back on my country and with that came a lot of other emotions so I was dragging my feet for a very long time. But with this current administration’s view on immigration, legal and illegal, my parents finally put their foot down and decided to pay for my application and they all but stood over me with their hands of their hips while I filled out the application.

Now that it’s over and done with I am glad that they did. It still feels weird. But good weird. I was very excited to vote this past Tuesday. I loved the process of registering. I loved stressing for weeks that my registration didn’t appear until a few days before voting day. I loved filling out the ballot and feeding it into the machine. I love the old volunteers gushing over Lucky and saying “congratulations, you voted”.

I love that I get to experience these things for the first time. And then this morning I got word that I get to experience something else as a new citizen and I am beside myself. N laughed at me but I can’t wait.

WhatsApp Image 2018-11-09 at 7.59.39 AM_LI

Adult Brace Yourself

I had my braces off yesterday!!

It was a glorious day. I’m not at the end of my normal human smile journey but this was a big hurdle. Something I’ve wanted since after high school.

My teeth have always been a huge issue for me. I’ve always hated my smile. I have two giant front teeth with a massive gap and I never grew a right lateral incisor and my left one was just a pointy tiny one. I think this is genetic? And I believe it’s called a peg lateral incisor.

So when I was in high school my lovely parents paid for me to get braces. Unfortunately, my family dentist at the time did them and not an orthodontist. He removed the peg and I wore the braces for around 2 years to close the gap and make space for the incisors and at the end was fitted with a partial denture with the 2 teeth attached. A denture… at around 16 years old… prime boy kissing age!

And the denture wasn’t perfect either. One of the teeth was really small. It would later be dubbed “tiny tooth” by my nearest and dearest and it became a part of me. Something I would try to hide from cute boys but something we all openly laughed about in trusted circles.

Sadly, because I was too busy living life, dental care was the least of my worries my teeth eventually moved and my giant gap came back.

At this point I was well into University and too old for my parents to pay for braces again so I suffered through my 20’s with these shitty teeth and I vowed to get them fixed once and for all one day when I had a grown up job with grown up money.

Grown up jobs came and grown up jobs went. Every time I started a new job I would visit a dentist and get a quote for a dental overhaul and every time it was just too expensive.

And then I met my husband and one of the ways I knew he was the one was that I told him I had a denture AND I even removed it in front of him and he never ran for the hills. (I don’t tell many people about the denture. You guys are in my inner circle now as well) But I just hated everything about my smile. I felt like it was holding me back somehow. I didn’t like taking pictures. My dreams of Instagram fame were dashed because my selfie game was non-existent :).

At my previous job before this one I did my “new job dentist check” and the dentist had promised a quick fix that he would do himself and since he wasn’t a dental surgeon I decided to hold off until I found a new job yet again. So when I found this job I was so excited to start the ball rolling. I met with my dentist and a surgeon and an orthodontist and we put together a plan and two years ago around my birthday I was fitted with braces and was on my way to find true happiness.

One of my favourite things to watch on tv is makeover shows (see Queer Eye and Botched). I relate to these people so much and to love see the joy on their faces at the end result. I wanted to feel that joy. I needed it. And yesterday I got to experience it. And it was amazing.

Granted I’m not done yet. I have to go back to the surgeon to get dental implants that will take 3 months to heal and then after that back to my dentist for crowns and right now I have a retainer with two temporary incisors.

But yesterday was the first time I saw my smile with all my teeth being the correct size in the correct spot. Yesterday was just another dream come true for me. It was a great day. I still can’t stop smiling.

It was so worth the wait, I’m so happy. And my orthodontist office deserves special mention here. It’s run by all women and they’re just the best. They’re very caring and thorough. I’m glad they fell into my lap (dentist recommendation). I couldn’t be happier with the care I received there.

If you’re thinking about fixing something cosmetic on your body but you’re not sure and feel a bit trepidatious, take this post as your nudge to DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!

You won’t regret it. You deserve it. It will be worth it!

 

Before:

 

During:

t2

 

After:

 

D-MER and Other Adventures in Breastfeeding

Oh no, not another complaining post. I promise my next post will be a bit more sunshiney and rosey :).

Before giving birth I’d mentioned that I wanted to do a post about breastfeeding. At the time I was petrified of the concept. I absolutely was not interested but I didn’t know how to articulate it without sounding ridiculous. I went to two breastfeeding classes to prepare myself and I even told the teachers about my fears but no one helped. They just said, you’ll get over it…  Gee, Thanks guys.

Sad to say, I was in the “no breastfeeding in public” group. Wait wait, let me clarify before you unfollow. I fully defend everyone’s right to breastfeed in public. I’ll go to the protests and I’ll fight our rights to do so but it always made me uncomfortable.

For me, breasts were sexual so it just made me uncomfortable thinking about them differently. And I didn’t buy that I would just get over it.

Thankfully, when Lucky was born, I was quite drugged up I didn’t have any emotion. So all the fear and creeped out feelings were gone. The nurses were a little forceful with my breast and his little head but at the time I really couldn’t be bothered. I remember him screaming and not getting it initially, poor guy.

I was one of the lucky ones though, despite my initial unwillingness to breastfeed. My milk came in on day 3 and he was doing really well by the time we left. But did I suddenly love breastfeeding? Nope. I still had no feelings about it. Bad or good. It was like I was on autopilot.

About a month into breastfeeding it became very easy and even enjoyable at times. It felt amazing to be able to be the only one who could calm him down. I was the most important person in his life and that was awesome.

Around month 2 everything changed again. Thrush, engorgement, pain pain pain. I was in tears almost every night for about 3 weeks. I just hated it but I couldn’t quit. I felt like the minute I quit he would get seriously ill or he would hate me. That mind game is something else, let me tell you.

Eventually the pain stopped and my body regulated but then something else happened. I started feeling dirty every time I breastfed or pumped. Dirty and full of shame and disgust. Like I was doing something extremely sexually perverse. But it only lasted a few seconds just at the beginning. The feeling was so deep and dark and disturbing and it made me sick to my stomach. Why did something so natural feel so wrong?

After a little while I started feeling it randomly throughout the day. Out of nowhere. If I was eating I would instantly lose my appetite and this terrible feeling of shame and disgust would wash over me for a few seconds and then I would feel a tingling at the top of my breasts. A slightly painful tingling.

I knew this shameful feeling though. I sometimes felt it after sex. Just for a short while. I would just feel awful and wrong and dirty. Why was it happening now?

I tried to ignore it but it was getting worse. But I still I could not quit breastfeeding. This incredibly awful experience was being trumped by guilt. He would most assuredly fall seriously ill if I stopped.

Sometimes while lying in bed I would scroll through Kellymom.com, the breastfeeding site, and I stumbled across a post about letdown. I’ve heard the term but I never really understood it. Letdown is when you breast fill up with milk and it’s usually triggered by hearing a baby cry or laugh or seeing your baby or nipple stimulation. It feels like pins and needles trickling from the top of your breast down. I finally figured out what it was. And then the last line jumped out at me. (paraphrasing) “Some women experience negative feelings just before a letdown”.

What? Really? That was me! I was some women!

I decided to do some digging. Searching terms like “anxiety before letdown”… “feeling dirty before letdown”.

A whole world opened up. My digging led me to this site, this book, and this facebook group. I couldn’t believe it. Firstly, I wasn’t crazy and Secondly, I wasn’t alone.

Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex, or D-MER, is quite simply a condition where lactating women feel negative feelings a few minutes/seconds before a letdown and it goes away shortly after as if nothing happened.

Feelings like sadness, anxiety, irritability etc. the opposite of euphoria.

It is a reflex, so there is nothing I can do to control it since it’s controlled by hormones and anecdotal evidence shows that it’s controlled by dopamine. The way I understand it is that you need prolactin to produce milk and to increase prolactin you need dopamine to drop. This sudden or irregular drop in dopamine for women with D-MER will cause the dysphoria and it usually lasts for 30-90seconds. Fascinating.

Another thing to note and what made me feel a bit better is that D-MER is physiological and not psychological. So, in essence, I’m not losing my mind, like I thought I was.

Can it be cured? I don’t know. The website said depending on the severity that you can take medication. But I don’t think a lot of doctors or lactation consultants know about it from what I can tell on the FB group. Also just eating healthy and staying hydrated can help. And awareness actually helped me a lot. Once I figured out what it was, it stopped being terrifying and awful. I could breathe through it and knowing it would pass in a few seconds helped as well.

What I didn’t and what I still don’t like is when it happens sporadically throughout the day for no reason what-so-ever. But for the most part it’s become something I can live with and can generally stave off if I drink my body weight in water. Recently, it happened while I was watching N take Lucky for his very first swim. It was horrible having an attack right while I was having the best experience.

But this discovery was huge for me and it made my breastfeeding journey okay again. I wasn’t experiencing the internal battle of quitting and being a terrible mother vs pushing through and hating every second of it.

And here we are, almost 7 months in and it’s… okay.

There’s a breastfeeding scene in a recent episode of the Handmaid’s Tale **possible spoiler** and boy was it made to feel like breastfeeding was the most glorious feeling and experience between mother and child. The over-the-top music and the lighting. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Granted the situation in the show was extreme. The show in its entirety is extreme, of course, but that’s for another blog post.

I’m also suffering from a bit of breastfeeding aversion which is new. He’s started using me as a pacifier and I really hate it. The extra sucks irritate me and set my teeth on edge and if I pull him off he whines and if he’s asleep he’ll wake up and cry. I’ve tried quickly swapping a dummy for my nipple. It doesn’t always work. I’m still working on this. Lately I just clench my teeth until I can take him off successfully and either distract him or hug and shush him back to sleep. It’s not fun for either of us.

But anyway, as it stands now, physically, breastfeeding is very easy. My supply has dipped somewhat since I started work but I have a room in the nurse’s office (no lock but there’s a sign that says “do not enter”) and with new laws I can pump as often and as long as I’d like and I don’t have to explain anything to anyone. My child can switch between breast and bottle easily. He just loves breastfeeding and that makes me happy even though it’s not my most favourite thing to do. I’m happy that he’s happy. Everything else aside, it’s really being a blessing that it’s been so easy to just pop him on and everything is right in his world.

I feel bad that it’s come relatively easily to me knowing that some women struggle and wish they could. I struggle with the fact that I want to quit so badly sometimes after a bad D-MER attack or when the feeding aversion hits me, and there are women out there who dream to be in my shoes.

I often ask myself, what’s the end goal here? How long do you keep wanting to do this. And the simple answer is

Just one more day…

 

 

Thoughts on the Birth

When I reflected on the day that Lucky came into the world I used to get very angry and sad and I would always temper those feelings down with “But he’s here and he’s safe and the surgery was perfect”.

This constant internal battle with my feelings was extremely difficult for me in the beginning and I kept it all to myself because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful so I spent a lot of time explaining away my feelings and not dealing with any of them.

Eventually it all came to a hold when my parents left when Lucky was just over 4 months old. I cried for days. A mixture of missing my parents and my family and this nagging voice in the back of my head to talk to someone about how I wasn’t happy with his birth day. At this point I hadn’t even talked to N about it.

In the end I found a therapist and in that first appointment I just bawled and bawled incoherently and I finally got it all out. A few days after that I found the courage to talk to N about it and bawled and bawled some more and it really helped. It helped so much. It was just a tiny sentence with big meaning that immediately after talking about it I felt better. It took me 4 months to say “I wasn’t happy with my birth experience”.

I wanted to write about it as well but I just kept making excuses and blaming myself and I’m really glad to say that I’m done with that now. I’m still very sad that it wasn’t perfect but I’ve let go of a lot of the anger a little I think and that’s a start.

And I don’t think it was PPD. My therapist agrees. It didn’t feel how PPD was described to me. I was just unresolved feelings coupled with hormones and homesickness.

And usually my tagline is “Next time”. We didn’t get it right this time but next time will be different. But we don’t have the guarantee of a next time here. In my mind, this was it and it was ruined. And even if we did there will always be this black mark on my first son’s birth and I hated that feeling. I didn’t want to be angry. I wanted to be okay with it. But for a while there I couldn’t read or hear birth stories. Anything to do with birth made me angry and resentful and I didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

So I guess the simplest way to explain my feelings is to break down the three things that made this experience unpleasant for me and how I dealt with it all in my head. I apologise if this post feels all over the place. My hope here is to help myself heal some more and perhaps if someone else out there is feeling the same to know that they’re not alone and the words “at least your child is here and safe” doesn’t always make it better. Your feelings are valid.

The surgeon

If you read my birth story, you may have noticed that the operating surgeon was fairly non existent in this story. At the time I thought it was par for the course but the more I thought about it the more I realised that this woman failed us. People always make excuses for surgeons. Especially if they’re good at their job. And she was great at her job. As I’ve said, the surgery was perfect. I healed up really quickly and that’s all thanks to her but the way we were treated by her as first time parents going into a very scary situation will always leave a bad taste in my mouth.

First, she never explained anything to us. She did the ultrasound, declared that we would be having a c-section and I didn’t really see her again. I saw her for 2 seconds when she offered me pain meds and I barely even heard her while she was cutting me open. Not once did she explain to us anything about how a c-section works, risks involved, etc. Not once did she even look either of us in the eye to say the words c-section. Not even the nurses talked to us about it. They just came with endless forms to sign.

But D, you might say, maybe it was an emergency and she needed to get in there quickly. Well, I was told in the OR that this wasn’t an emergent situation and the anesthesiologist spent at least 15 minutes explaining what he would be doing. Also, a few years ago I had my appendix removed at this same hospital. I would venture to argue that an almost ruptured appendix is an emergency situation and while I was high on morphine the operating surgeon found a few minutes to come and talk to me and my husband about the procedure. I think the least she could have done for a scared couple was talk to them about what was going to happen. Especially since we had questions regarding the gentle c-section that we had to ask to the nurse.

She was also incredibly rude. She seemed annoyed with me when I wouldn’t relax while she was doing a cervix check and she barked at my husband when he asked if she’d done delayed cord clamping.

But D, you might say again, surgeons aren’t known for their bedside manner. You take what you get as long as you survive. Now, I tend to agree with this. I’d rather you save my life than be a nice person but we were told by the nurse and my OB that this is what the hospital offered and we were told that that’s what we would get. If the surgeon had taken a f*** second to talk to us she could have told us whether this was the case or not but she was nowhere to be seen.

And lastly, I never saw her again. She did no post op check or anything. My OB did the post op which I guess is standard but we wanted to discuss our disappointment with the operating surgeon and it was like she never existed. We spoke to my OB about what happened and all we got was a weak apology and shrugging of the shoulders. What could my OB do? She wasn’t there. We also spoke to my doula about it and she said we should write a letter to the hospital and/or the surgeon. It may not result in anything but may help us somehow. We have yet to write this letter,  however. I should just copy and paste this blog post :).

The doula

Let me preface this by saying the this doula group is fantastic. Doula L who was with us on the night was amazing and both her and my doula came to visit after baby was born and also checked in a few times via text for a few months after. I can’t fault them on their care on the day. However…

This mostly probably me not knowing what a doula’s role is and me not taking the reigns as far as letting her know what I want. I let her narrate what I should expect if I wanted a natural birth. And also, I’m talking about my doula R not L.

First, she wasn’t there. In the contract we signed she said that she would be on call for us 2 weeks before the birth and she went on vacation. I was due the 23rd and my ECV was scheduled for Tuesday the 19th. She said she would be there for the ECV, she would leave her family in Maine and drive to be with me for the ECV. At the time I was grateful that she would cut her vacation short to be there but technically… technically, she should have been available for me since I went into labour on the 18th. Anyway, I guess it was a blessing in disguise because L was incredible in R’s absence.

We were also not really educated on or prepared for a c-section. I understand that doulas advocate for natural birth but in an emergency will assist you through a c-section. I feel like my doula didn’t want to believe that I would need a c-section just because he was breech. That might be true but he was not turning and she kept saying I had time I had time. She never entertained the notion of a c-section so we weren’t adequately prepared and even more shocked. We met with our doula weekly for discussions about all kinds of birth but very rarely did we discuss c-sections. On the day when we were told we were going to have one doula L had to prep me and get me into that mindset in a very short space of time in between painful contractions. I think if we’d had this discussion prior I might have been more at peace.

Anyway, I’m not really angry about this. I just feel a little meh and sad about it.

And lastly,

Me

I’m so disappointed in myself for not advocating better for myself and Lucky. Why didn’t I speak up when I felt we weren’t being looked after properly?

Being wheeled into the OR I remember thinking okay this isn’t the worst, at least they can do the gentle c-section but once the spinal block was in and they were laying me down they put a sheet over me and it wasn’t the clear sheet that my OB mentioned and I just knew, I knew this wasn’t going to be a gentle c-section and I didn’t say anything. I clamped up. What was I afraid of? Why didn’t I just speak up? That green sheet is emblazoned in my mind. The moment I failed. My first mom fail and he wasn’t even here.

I’m telling you, friends. Living with that was killing me. And after he was out and they didn’t give him to me before cleaning him and they didn’t delay the cord clamping and seeing N’s irritation with the way the surgeon spoke to him. It was just awful.

 

Nothing went the way we wanted it to go and no “at least” was making me feel better. It was just crashing wave after crashing wave every time I relived the birth.

The only thing that have helped was talking about it. First to the therapist and then to my husband and now to all of you. And I do feel better about it. I’m not over it. I don’t know if I ever will be but I’m getting there.

Having Lucky in my life is also one of the only things that has brought me some peace. Because even though I feel the way I feel he IS here and he IS safe and being around him makes everything bad disappear.

I’m glad I got this off my chest. N says he doesn’t believe that I did anything wrong. He thinks that even if I did speak up, the surgeon would have done her own thing and not listened anyway. He’s probably right. It seemed like she didn’t want to deal with us. I often wonder if some surgeons have their backs up when they hear that you have a doula with you. That’s the sense I got from her. When we protested a little when we heard about the c-section she probably just wanted to get us the heck outta there.

Anyway, so that’s where I’m at with the birth. It’s not nearly as all consuming as it was, which is a relief.

I just want anyone who’s going through something like this to know that it’s okay to be disappointed. It sucks. Granted my birth had a very happy ending and my issue with it seems superficial when you think of how badly things can go during birth but everybody wants a perfect birth. Perfect for them. Don’t we deserve a happy birth after carrying a child for so long?

My wish is to be able to laugh about this one day. I’ve always wanted my birth to be a funny story and it had some very funny bits. While I’m processing this I’ll just be sure to cling to the funny memories and hopefully they will overshadow the shitty parts.

 

 

 

She’s Aliiive!

I certainly didn’t intend to take an almost 6 month hiatus from this blog. In hindsight, I really shouldn’t have waited this long because I’ve had some good stuff to write about but I guess now that I’m back at work I can make some time to write again I hope to get back into the swing of things rather quickly.

First things first. Lucky, is doing wonderfully. I don’t know where to begin. He’s just wonderful. I could talk about him for ages of course but this post isn’t about him. I just wanted to quickly write down what I want to cover to catch you all up on the past 6 months. Here are a few topics I want to write about:

  • Thoughts on the birth
  • Thoughts on being on this side
  • My experience with breastfeeding
  • My husband is now a dad
  • Next time?
  • Therapy
  • My journey with adult braces
  • Mom’s groups
  • My tribe
  • Favourites (I’m gonna bring them back in earnest)

I think that’s enough to keep me busy for a few weeks.

I’m slowly keeping up to date with all of your blogs and I’m right there with each of you (even if I’m a few weeks late). Reading all of your posts is motivating me to get back in asap.

I’ll leave it there for now. But know that we’re doing well. We have found our groove I think even though I’ll admit that I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. I just know that he is loved immeasurably and I like to think that the way his face lights up when he sees us that he feels the same way.

Until next time friends.

xxx