I told you in an earlier post that I had a beautiful baby girl, and that I'm a stay at home mom and wife.... I love being home, love being a wife, love being a mom. I also told you that I became sick...
A little history on that. While I was in labor with my daughter, I ended up with an infection due to my water breaking 24 hours before. Don't ask me the technical name of that infection because I don't remember. In the course of labor, I stopped breathing, so they had to put an oxygen mask on. And because labor was not progressing, I ended up having a c - section. Because of the infection I had developed, my daughter was rushed to the NICU for observation.
While they stitched me up and everything else, my husband was with our daughter. I went into shock and lost a lot of blood and as a result, I ended up in the recovery room for awhile. I didn't get to hold my daughter till at least 3 hours after her arrival. Nurses kept a close eye on me since I was still shivering from loss of blood.
I went home the Friday after my c-section. By that Sunday, I was being taken back to the hospital because of a 102° fever. I had developed another infection. This time, I was in the hospital for a week. My fever would go down, and then spike up again. Day after day, I sat in the hospital alone.
My husband was scared and terrified, but taking care of our daughter alone, making formula where he'd never made formula before, or changed dirty diapers. He did a pretty good job for being a first time dad.
When I came home, I was in a lot of pain still, and we had to make sure to clean my incision. Hurt a lot. The week after I came home, I began having a pain in my right side. I was convinced it was just a bladder infection. Until I couldn't breathe because the pain was so bad. When I went in for a postpartum checkup, I started bawling my eyes out because my doctor wanted me to lay down on the table and I couldn't. I was sent to get a CT scan, where they discovered a pulmonary embolism. Big term for a scary thing- a blood clot in my lung that could have killed me. Back into the hospital I went. Stayed for only a couple days but still time I missed with my new baby girl.
Because of the trauma, I became depressed. No one was surprised when I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. And because of everything that had happened the whole month of October, my husband and I decided that I should quit my job and stay home with baby.
Now we're up to speed. My baby is 7 months old, and she's doing beautifully. But that's not what prompted this late night blog.
You see, I'm terrified to have another baby in the future. I don't understand why, with my huge desire to have kids, why this all happened. Why I have a scar from a c - section I didn't want. Why I have medication I have to take to keep blood clotting at bay.
I feel like sometimes all this happened because I got pregnant before I was married. Is the c - section and subsequent details surrounding my daughter's birth my fault? Would this all have not happened if I had waited for the baby?
To be honest, I feel like a failure as a mom. Why would I bring another baby into this world later on knowing I would have to have another c-section, knowing my incision could become infected once more. I'm terrified. The fear runs deep, and though people tell me that it's still too soon to think about more children, that of course all the trauma still affects me, that I'll get over it, I don't think I ever will.
I have emotional damage because I missed almost a whole month of my daughter's life outside me. How could I do that again? Emotional damage because I feel like my body betrayed me. Yes, my daughter is fine. Yes, I'm on the road to recovery. But I hate, yes HATE, talking about my baby girl's birth. Isn't it supposed to be one of the best days of your life as a woman??
I hate knowing I didn't get to see my daughter as soon as she was born. I hate that I didn't get to touch her, to cuddle her close as soon as they had swaddled her. I hate that my body betrayed me. I hate that I almost gave her an infection before she was even here. I hate that I'm so fearful of having another baby.
I hate that I feel like a failure. I hate that I didn't get to nurse my baby like I wanted to. I hate that any medication I'm taking further destroyed my chances of nursing my daughter.
So my late night confession is this: I'm too terrified, too scarred by the realization that I almost died several times. I'm not saying I regret my beautiful daughter, because I don't regret her at all. I just have an instinct deep down that she will be my only baby. And for some reason, I am content with that....
Knowing I have this off my chest is a relief, I hate keeping it inside. And my husband, though we've talked about it, seems to not understand my fears and turmoil...
Anyway, have a good night.