Sometimes things don’t go the way we so carefully plan them. Actually, where pregnancy and babies are concerned, that might often be the case. I so appreciate this candid guest post from Mary and thank her for exposing her heart and sharing her healing.
I’m a planner. Lists, calendars, automated reminders and timelines – these are good things in my book. So when I got pregnant pretty much the day after I stopped using birth control, it kind of threw me for a loop. Eventually, I got over the surprise and dove straight into planning mode. Our small house was not fit for a baby, so I made a two-column list of all the home repairs we (in other words, my husband) needed to make. And then I re-organized the list in order of priority and assigned each task to a weekend. I was set. And yes, a little compulsive. (Or is it obsessive? No matter. It’s possible I was both.)
Despite all my planning and pointed encouragement (nagging), our projects didn’t get finished as fast as I wanted. Even the tasks I assigned myself seemed more difficult or time-consuming than I had anticipated. Case in point: I completely forgot to schedule a birthing class until the only one available was in late October – just a month before my due date.
When I went to my doctor’s appointment on October 2, slow and swollen, I was (understandably) alarmed when she informed me that my blood pressure and protein levels were through the roof and I must go straight home for seven weeks of bed rest.
“But we haven’t taken the birthing class yet!” I said, panicked at the thought of not knowing how to breathe or push or dilate or BIRTH.
But we haven’t put the curtains up in the nursery yet, I thought, frustrated at the idea of an innocent baby being forced to live in a half-decorated nursery.
But I’m not ready to have a baby yet, my heart whispered, desperate for more time to read and talk and pray and think about becoming a mother.
Bed rest didn’t work, and my daughter was born seven weeks early. Less than four pounds and somewhat resembling a pink frog, she was strong and sweet and healthy. Not that I noticed right away.
My daughter was born before dawn on Monday, and I didn’t see her until Tuesday afternoon when the nurses bundled her up and wheeled her to my room. They did the same thing on Wednesday, and then came Thursday: the day I was allowed to visit my baby in the NICU. With the help of a nurse and my husband, I maneuvered into a wheelchair and rolled down the hall to the nursery. I held her, and I looked at her. And I broke into a sweat.Today I know that my body was reacting to the many medications I’d been on for almost a week. But at the time, I just knew that visiting the NICU made me sick. I didn’t want to go back.
I did go back, of course. And when family and friends visited over the next couple of days, I dutifully described my daughter’s tiny toes and bright eyes and strong lungs. I played the part of a mother anxious to spend every moment holding her newborn, feeding her and burping her and gazing into her little face.
But I wasn’t.
I wasn’t that mother. I wasn’t excited to be wheeled down to the nursery, and I didn’t look forward to holding the bundle of blankets they said was my daughter. I’m pretty sure I was in shock. Just six months earlier, I’d been in shock that I was pregnant in the first place. But this kind of shock, this inability to adjust, this lack of appropriate emotions – it was different. After eight days in the hospital, I was sent home. My daughter had to stay behind. She wasn’t big enough or warm enough to go with us.
For the next nine days, I spent my days sleeping, recovering and waiting for the hour or two I’d spend in the NICU. Each afternoon, Mark and I drove to the hospital and then, while he went to work, I’d wait for someone – my parents, a friend – to pick me up and drive me home. As the days went on, our tiny baby started looking a little more cute to me, and I started feeling more interest in her health, her face, her progress, HER. Still, when the doctor said she could come home, I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for that, either. Thankfully, those fears were considerably more manageable than my initial shock – and it turns out I had plenty of time to finish reading all the baby books and magazines in the world during those wee hours between feedings.
Though I didn’t expect to get sick and deliver my baby so early, I wasn’t surprised to have complications. As I mentioned, most of the women in my family have had some difficulty or another in the process of having babies. What surprised me was the way my mind and my heart reacted to the whole thing. I never imagined that I wouldn’t immediately fall in love with my newborn. I had no idea that visiting her and holding her would be, for a time, as interesting as watching baseball. (Or, as a sports fan might say, watching grass grow.) It never occurred to me that an early delivery would be such a shock to my system that I wouldn’t know how to love my daughter for several days, that I wouldn’t ache to hold her in my arms like everyone assumed, that I would watch the clock as my hour in the NICU passed so slowly. But I didn’t. And it was. Why didn’t anyone tell me that having a baby affects your heart and mind just as much as it does your body? As a matter of fact, it can kind of mess you up.
I’ve more than recovered. Last spring, I went to a scrapbooking retreat and after several hours of working with photo after photo of my (adorable) daughter, I realized that I had talked nonstop about that little girl. “I can’t help it. I just love her so much!” I said. Believe me, I know how obnoxious that sounds. But I’m still thankful to remember how quickly and completely the shock of my premature delivery wore off. And I’m glad to say that today, I’m totally messed up over my daughter – but in a good way this time.
Mary is mom to a {usually} sweet, {always} sassy toddler and wife to her high-school sweetheart. When she’s not snapping photos left and right, reading a good book or organizing her to-do lists, you can find Mary {avoiding housework} curled up on the couch with her laptop. Mary blogs about her imperfect life at Giving Up on Perfect, where she writes about family, faith, books, diet-friendly and fiber-filled foods like granola bars and nachos, celebrity look-alikes and chick flicks. You know, the important stuff.
Wow. I feel like I’m reading an entry in my own personal journal. My pregnancy was not a surprise like Mary’s, but the news at 18 weeks that she would be born with a birth defect was just as shocking. I knew she’d be a c-section. I kenw she’d have surgery as soon as her little body would allow her. I expected a 1-4 month hospital stay. What I didn’t know or expect were the feelings I experienced during that time. The fear. The detachment. The loneliness.
Like Mary, I’ve had many moments since then that I’ve realized how central my daughter is in my life. How I can’t stop talking about her, bragging about her, sharing her with my world.
God tends to “mess us up” at times. And things rarely happen how we expect or want them to. But thank God He does… For we wouldn’t have the blessings in our lives if we were the ones in charge. Thank you for sharing, Mary!
Amanda, thank you so much for sharing a bit of your story. You used the word “detachment,” and I think that’s exactly it. Thank God he’s patient with us and blesses us beyond our imaginations!
That’s so funny…when my doc said my blood pressure was high and I was spilling protein I kind of laughed and asked did that mean I didn’t have to go to work? When he said yes I freaked out a little. When they admitted me at 27 weeks on February 1st and said I wasn’t leaving until I had a baby I said “But we haven’t filed our taxes! We’re supposed to buy nursery furniture 2 weekends from now! My baby shower invites had been sent!! My birth classes!! Rascal Flatts concert!” Isn’t it funny the things that seem so important when your brain is still stuck in “normal” pregnancy mode? Of course, we filed our taxes online. I had a c section at 29 weeks, so no need for birth classes. I was discharged a whole 5 weeks prior to my planned baby shower and we bought the furniture the day I left the hospital. We had plenty of time to get ready for our little man to come home 2 months later.
“Rascal Flatts concert!” Oh, Heather, you cracked me up – because you sound just like I did! I actually came home from the hospital the day before my final baby shower. One girl hadn’t gotten the email about my delivery and all the surrounding drama, so she walked in to the shower and said, “So, when are you due?”
Thankfully I was on some pretty good meds at the time, because I think if my brain would have fully realized that she looked at me and thought I was 8 months pregnant, I would have lost it!
Thank you for this.
My NICU experience was the same way, and I observed a lot of initial detachment from other NICU mothers. I personally think it is a defense mechanism. People were so excited when I got to hold our baby the first time. Me? Not so much!
Then, you get to bring them home and it is weird that YOU finally get to make decisions about changing their diapers and feeding them without asking someone else first.
Elizabethl, thank you for making me feel a little more normal! It WAS weird when she came home. I kept asking, “Are you sure? Are you SURE I can take care of her? And…can the nurses come, too?!?”
Same experience here. I was admitted and induced @ 32 wks and my son was in the NICU. I couldn’t see him for 3 days. I had those feelings of detachment for a while also. I think some of it was fatigue and some was shock of all the events leading up to the early birth. But, now, he’s the twinkle in my eye!!
What a wonderfully honest post! I’m a big fan of Mary already, and so I was delighted when I scrolled on down and saw that it was her! You’re awesome, Mary!
Awww, thank you! The feelings are all mutual, of course!
I love Mary and her writing, but I didn’t know all these details of her daughter’s birth. It’s good she shares this b/c many women feel these same things and feel guilty.
While my daughter wasn’t born early I was surprised by how inadequate I felt as the day approached to begin my life as mom. But like Mary I love my job so much!
Thanks, Janna! It was hard to share all this, but hopefully it will help others see that it’s not that unusual after all!
Thanks so much for being honest about your feelings. I’ve read in articles and heard from childbirth professionals that it’s actually quite common for women who have C-sections to experience such feelings, particularly when there’s no trial of labor. But so many women who feel the way you did think they’re abnormal, or alone, or just bad moms. Stories like yours help dispel those myths.
Yes, I think having a C-section certainly contributed to my feelings! And considering how many women have to go that route, I’m certain I’m not alone!
I stumbled on this post while looking at 30-Day Giving Challenge things. I had been skimming the blog when I saw the picture of your daughter in her “box” with her Soothie pacifier. I immediately knew that picture. I have a picture of my daughter that is very similar to it. My experience was not similar to yours, tho, because of different circumstances, but I completely understand how you felt. For me, the birth of my daughter at 28 weeks was such a relief…as horrible as that sounds. I had lost 4 babies to PPROM. All born before doctors could do anything. The baby before my daughter was born at 22 1/2 weeks….literally a week and a half before a hospital would deem her “viable”. So when I hit 24 weeks with Madeline and then 25 and 26 and 27, I was actually getting very nervous because I knew it was too good to be true. She was born at 28 weeks….just over 2 1/2 pounds. She was the length of a Barbie doll. The hospital that I was in literally wheeled my hospital bed into the NICU so that I could see her just hours after she was born. She was on a warmer and have a vent helping her breath….but she was alive!
I don’t tell you all these things to make you feel badly for how you reacted when your daughter was born. Fast forward my story 6 months, and you’d find me leading a Preemie support group…using my experiences to help other moms who were in the same situation. Helping them through the same feelings that you felt (and believe me, sooooooo many preemie moms feel like that!). And what you and I have in common is this. You write honestly about how you felt, how hard it was to bond at first. You are helping other moms heal and know that they are not alone in how they were or are feeling. And that is great!
When I look back at what happened 3 1/2 years ago, I know that I was supposed to go through that so that I could help other people. …and I think that it what you are doing too. Good job!
Jenn, thank you so much for sharing your story – with us here and with the women you’ve helped in person!!
I am sure you have already heard this, but I could have written every word that you did. My son was born very unexpectedly at 28 weeks. My house was in the middle of a huge remodeling project and I was only 4 weeks into my new “dream” job.
I have never told anyone in real life but when he was born. I wished I could just go home (alone) and pretend none of it had even happened! Fast forward 2 years and I am a stay at home mom to the love of my life! I can’t even describe how I feel about my child! My husband and I are expecting again, and I know that I have a risk of having another preemie, but this time I am a lot more prepared.
Thanks so much for writing this. I felt so alone with those feelings when he was born. Like I am the only mother in the world who wasn’t immediately over the moon for her baby.
You are most definitely not alone, Jordan. Thank you for sharing so honestly here – and congratulations on your coming baby, too!