This has to be the hardest post I have ever written. How do I start, write, or finish a post about labor, birthing, nursing, becoming a mom, our child, how I feel about it all, the good the bad the ugly, the exhaustion, the tears, the inadequacy, and the joy? How do I write the extreme emotions of fear, guilt, frustration, love, and deeper love? Yes, this is the hardest post I have ever written.
It seems so important to communicate honestly what the last five weeks have been, and for that I have struggled to find the time with both hands free, and my mind alert enough to think. Now, when I have a few stolen minutes, my mind is swimming with too many thoughts to write.
Maybe I will just start with now and work backwards. Now, I am in love. Every grin, grimace, and movement makes my heart jump. Her cries draw me in. Her smiles are more than any amount of anything you could ever bribe me with. She is our girl. I am completely devoted. We barely sleep, I hardly get to eat, she is rarely out of my arms, her greatest joy in life is nursing as much as possible, I sometimes have to hold her while I pee, and I love it. Sometimes I look out the window and see people coming and going and think to myself that I miss being able to get a lot done in a day, go where I want when I want, and sleep when I am tired, but all in all if we have to go through this temporary isolation in order to be able to have and love her, then I have come to terms with that. Coming to terms was not easy.
The first 16 days after labor my hormones were the devil. They taunted me with horrible thoughts of regret and frustration. My whole body ached (I will get to the part of the story where we labored for 41 hours... just hang on) Nursing was excruciating. We saw seven different lactation consultants, a chiropractor, and eventually an ENT that said she was tongue tied. She snipped her frenulum and after Canaan relearned her tongue, nursing became a whole different story. I once had blisters on my areola, now I just have a happy nursing baby.
When you want to nurse and are struggling, there is the most unreal sense of guilt you have ever felt. I am supposed to feed her and that is supposed to create a bond between us. Instead I was crying, desperate, and wanted to quit. We kept trying. Everyone has their advice and experiences. Some are more helpful than others. Some just made me feel more inadequate and made me question what the **** was wrong with me. Why couldn't I do this? Now, looking back on those thoughts I see how silly and futile they really are. It had nothing to do with me or Canaan. We needed some outside help. Thankfully we found it. Now, when I hold her and she watches me the whole time she nurses I am beginning to understand what people are talking about when they say how wonderful nursing is. This alluded me at first. My mom listened to me cry and just kept saying one day it will get better. She said it would be worth it. I am glad I believed her just enough to keep trying. Nursing babies can smell their moms in the house. Canaan knows me and she knows when I am near. As exhausting as this can be, it is a priviledge to be the one that she wants and needs.
Canaan is a survivor. It feels like she and I have had to fight for everything together over the last five weeks, and it all started with labor.
My water broke at 12:22am Friday June 3. We labored through the night, went to the birth center at 11am Friday, and waited. Labor never picked up. Contractions came and went and I slowly dilated. At 6am Saturday I started pushing. We pushed for four and a half hours. At this point in hour 36, I seriously felt I was dying. My face was so swollen that I could not see very well, my whole body had given everything it had and it just wasn't enough. Stephen and our friend Emily had been with me through every contraction. Faithful and strong they didn't leave me. We since have talked about how afraid they were as well. In modern America we often forget how scary and out of our control labor and birthing really is. People like to get on a high horse and shout "wimp!" at every woman that seeks a medicated labor, but I can honestly now say there are times when it will save a life. Thank God for it. Infection had started to set in and it was just a matter of time. Thank God for Doctors, hospitals, and medicine.We had done everything we could without it, and it wasn't enough to bring her into this world.
At 11:30am Saturday I was transferred to the hospital via an ambulance. They gave me an epidural and pitocin so that I would sleep and hopefully the contractions would pick up. At 4:30pm the Doctor came in and explained that he wanted to try a vacuum extraction. I prayerfully begged God to let this work.
It is hard to express how it feels to have your husband, best friend, family, midwife, nurses, and doctors as a ring of support shouting "Push!" through a stream of tears, while I prayed, "Please God. Hear our cries".
Then, just like that, she cried. All pink and gorgeous, she cried.
Right now, I am not sure what else to type.
