Anonymous
I'm going to start this story off by diving into the ugly truth. I found out that I was pregnant in jail. Yes, actual jail. I won't get into the full detail of that, because this story is about re-writing postpartum, but the short story is, I liked to have fun and I liked all the adventure that came with it, regardless of the consequences.
When I found out that I was pregnant, I was terrified and excited. I knew that this meant that I needed to grow up, and I also knew that this meant that I had been given a second chance at life. As a woman with no home, no money, no job, and a partner who was also in jail, I knew that this was going to be a difficult road ahead.
I spent six months of my pregnancy incarcerated. All that yummy food that I craved; I could not have. I think the worst part of being pregnant in jail was the deputies taunting me with their food. Yes, this was a real thing. Not all, but some of the deputies had a ball taunting me while they were eating their meals. My diet consisted of bread, bologna, pb&j, and nothing but calories bought off of commissary.
While I was incarcerated, I was told by the medic that my protein levels were very high. I was told that this meant that I was high risk for a still born pregnancy. After that, all I did was worry. I had nightmares about giving birth to a baby with no heartbeat. It was terrifying. My unborn baby was the only thing that gave me hope. He was the only thing that made me believe I was doing something right in my life.
I was released from jail at 7 months pregnant and 200 lbs. I had gained 88lbs. I chose to head straight to rehab in San Francisco, where I would learn about myself and the trauma that I carried around with me for 9 years. I met amazing woman who I felt that I could relate to, I learned about healthy parenting, I found acceptance in who I was and began the journey of loving myself.
I remember this day like it was yesterday. It was about 4:30pm and I felt the contractions begin. I let a staff member at the rehab center know that I was in labor. She told me that that there was no one to drive me so I would have to walk to the hospital. This was a straight uphill walk to Kaiser. Every step felt like a marathon. I had to stop every few minutes to breathe through the contractions. This was the most alone I had felt in my life.
When I was admitted to the hospital, I called my family to tell them I was in labor. They came as soon as they could and sat with me through the 29 hours of labor. During that time, my son had the umbilical cord around his neck and was losing oxygen and was also not in the right position to give vaginal birth.
I spent the majority of labor breathing through oxygen tubes and the nurses trying to fix his position for vaginal birth. Luckily, my son moved to the right position for vaginal birth and the umbilical cord unwrapped from his neck. It took four contractions to push him out and when he was born, I did not hear a peep. I started panicking and asking why he wasn't crying. The nurses took him to a table where I didn't know what they were doing. The next think I knew, he was crying. I was so relieved and began crying hysterically. I just remember telling Jax that I loved him over and over.
Jax's heart rate kept dropping after the birth and the doctors wanted to keep a close eye on him, so I spent the next 5 days in the hospital with him. I don't know if I slept more than an hour that whole time. I could not take my eyes off of him because I was afraid he would stop breathing. I cried and prayed to a God that I didn't believe in, begging for my son to be healthy. I was by myself most of the time, wishing that his father was there to help me through this and to experience his birth with me. But when you know that something is just not possible, you adapt, and you survive. And that is just what I did, I adapted, and I survived.
I remember leaving the hospital on the 5th day with my mom and my son, and her dropping me back off at the rehab and feeling so alone. I was constantly worried about my sons health, sleep deprived, and had no idea what the hell I was doing. My nipples were cracked and bleeding, I hadn't showered in days, but for the first time in my life I had something to live for, something to die for, and something to COMPLETELY change my life for.
My pregnancy was not what most women experience, and postpartum was a constant low of feeling lonely, defeated, tired, and scared. But being a mom turned out to be the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Even throughout all of the highs and lows and doing it all on my own for the first 2, almost 3 years, I found a strength inside myself that I didn't know I had. I learned to adapt and push myself for my son. I used to envy all of those moms who I would see posting baby shower pictures on Facebook with all their friends. But I've realized that those things are so small in comparison to the big picture.
This story is part of our Rewrite Postpartum series. To share your own story, use the button below.
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