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Rewriting Postpartum: Escaping jail

Writer's picture: Maia Mothers LLCMaia Mothers LLC

By Megan

Where do I even begin...


When I was around 30 weeks pregnant with my first, I was diagnosed with cholestasis of pregnancy. At 32 weeks I began to bleed and was admitted to the hospital and told I would not be leaving until I had the baby.


Each night in the hospital was a wild card. Some nights they would wake me at 3 AM and wheel me down the hall to do an emergency ultrasound check (they were looking for a placental abruption). Then I was diagnosed with preeclampsia.


I spent 3 full weeks in a hospital bed, on monitors 24/7, until my first born was born via c-section at 35 weeks and 1 day. I was able to hold him while they sewed my body back up before he was taken from me. He went straight to the NICU while I was put to bed to rest to recover. I was in bad shape. I spent my first week postpartum between my hospital bed and the NICU down the hall where my son spent his first week of life. They would hardly let Eli out of the NICU but I did get a couple sweet visits from him in my room for 30 minutes or so. Then they would whisk him back to his bed in the NICU.


My husband was my support system the entire time. He was so wonderful. But I was severely depressed and exhausted. I was doing my best to recover from all the issues I had during the pregnancy as well as keep my mental health but I was a mess.

Zack, my wonderful partner, saw it all. He spent each night by my side in the hospital when I was being jerked awake by nurses and told to roll over from side to side to get the baby's heart rate back up. He was there when they would tell us daily that we may not end up with a baby at the end of this hospital saga. He was the one who saw me break and lose my sanity daily. He was there when they cut my body open and took our baby out of my body and then separated us. He was the one who was by our son's side in the NICU when I couldn't be.

This was his postpartum too.


We were in it together and yet we could hardly talk about it. It hurt. I spent most of the next three months crying a lot. I was lonely and did not have mom friends. I could not talk to outsiders about my birth experience, I would just start bawling my eyes out. It was a time I felt I had stolen from me. I hated seeing other moms "bounce" back posts, and their sweet stories of their at-home births. I know that's awful to say but I felt robbed.


Now, I am a mom of two and my first born is almost 4 1/2 years old. I see things a little differently today than I did 4 1/2 years ago. I know those doctors and nurses were just trying to keep me alive and my unborn baby healthy. Still, the feeling I had coming home from the hospital the day my first born and I were finally discharged from the hospital and told we could go home, TOGETHER! I felt like we were escaping jail. To feel like my birth experience was jail- well that right there says a lot.

It's ok to be upset about how your birthing experience pans out.


Now when friends who are having their firsts ask me about my "birth plan", the best advice I can give is do not have one and do your best to roll with the punches. Those expectations can steal your joy.


I did learn a very valuable lesson through my first birthing experience. I learned to let go, let go of my expectations and control. I feel it was a great precursor to motherhood in many ways.

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