Sophie was born at 9:38 p.m. on a Monday night,
November 16, 2015. She was three days past her due date. Her life
began with my regretting the first decision I had made as a parent on her
behalf. So began the mystery of motherhood, a place that I thought was
full of sunshine and rainbows, and actually--for me--ended up being a place of
doubts, fears, constant second-guessing, worry, and heartache. A place
with more tears than smiles, and more regrets than anything.
I had wanted to be a mother so badly, and for so
long, that I could hardly believe this was actually happening to me. I
loved every minute of being pregnant. Every minute. Even when I had
sciatica. Even when my hips hurt so bad I thought my legs were detaching
at the hip joint. Even when I couldn't sleep. I may have whined a
little toward the end, but I'm telling you--I loved it. All of it.
I had always wanted to be pregnant, have the big belly, waddle around and
have people give me their chair or carry things for me. :) I wanted
to feel the kicks, talk and sing to my baby, and get his or her room ready.
I just wanted to have a baby and have one grow inside my body. I
had suffered a miscarriage 10 years prior and waited all this time for another
shot at it. So, even when it was VERY
uncomfortable, I loved it.
I imagined a glorious natural birth and skin to
skin with my baby, followed by nursing, cuddles, and all my family and friends
coming to visit at the hospital while I looked adorable in my new Jessica
Simpson nursing robe. I was going to go into labor on my own and have a
fantastic story of a rush to the hospital and tell everyone how I was teaching
while my water broke and my students went wild and Jason had to rush from work
to get me and take me to the hospital. I began producing colostrum
several weeks before my due date and got so excited! I was going to be
able to breastfeed my baby! I had always worried that I would not be able
to, but I had these visions of my breastfeeding experience going supernaturally
easy. I had all kinds of people tell me their pregnancy, birth, and
breastfeeding stories and think, "I'm not going to be like that.
That's not going to happen to me. I won't need to be induced.
I won't need to have a cesarean, Sophie's already head down ready to go.
Has been for months. How hard can breastfeeding be? Women who don't
breastfeed just gave up too early. They just gave up when it got hard,
but I'm not going to do that. Breast is best!"
Well, it was a few weeks before my due date and I
started getting checked at my OB appointments. I was dilated zero and no
effacement. Bummer. Then the next week, dilated zero and no
effacement. Really Bummer. And this trend continued until the week
of my due date. Now at this point I was really miserable and really
wanted to meet my baby. I wanted to have her on my due date. Had
to have her on my due date. Because even though the vast majority of
women do not, I was an exception in my own mind. That wouldn't happen to
me, right? Her due date was 11-13-15, on a Friday. Cool, right? I thought for sure I would go into labor on
this day. Just a few days before, I was sitting in my OB office with my
husband and we could have made the decision to induce that week. However,
we could not induce on a Friday. It would have needed to be that
Wednesday. For some unknown reason I thought I just had to wait
until my due date. I did not want to induce early. I somehow
thought that if I chose to induce early, that I was cheating her chances of
coming on her own. On the day she wanted to. Silly, I know.
But I was praying and holding onto the thought that she would come on the
day that God had ordained to be her birthday, and I did not want to
choose that day. I wanted it to just happen.
So…her due date came and went, but she stayed put.
That weekend I got extremely sick. Fever, chills, sweats, aches, low
appetite. But I was so thirsty and drank loads of water and gatorade and
never could feel satisfied or like my thirst was ever quenched. Flu test
was negative and we never knew what made me do that, but looking back I feel
that it was because my amniotic fluid was dropping and I believe everything in
my body was giving up fluids for that. So I was dehydrated. It was
the most frightening part of my pregnancy and I was miserable because I could
have chosen to have her the week before. I could have chosen for her to
already be in my arms, not in my belly. Not still in there while I was
sick. Not still in there while I was wondering if she would make it out
alive because it had been up to ME to decide when she came. And what if I
made the wrong decision? Why didn't I say 'okay, a couple days before my
due date is not a big deal, let's induce!'?
So on Monday we went back to the OB, and he
basically said, "Okay, you're going to go to the hospital, like, now...and
get fluids and tomorrow will be the day." Well my husband and I
thought that since I was in such bad shape that they might go ahead and induce
me that afternoon/night. We already hadn't slept for 3 days because I was
so sick, hurting so badly, and because we were both scared to death about our
baby girl making it into this world okay. We just knew that we would not
even be able to sleep one more night. Somehow tomorrow seemed like forever
away. It might as well have been another 40 weeks and 3 days.
It showed on our faces. I was fighting back tears. I was so
exhausted I didn't even know how I could push. I just didn't think that
me making it through labor was even possible at this point. And then my
doctor said, "Or we can do a c-section later this evening." He
left Jason and I alone to discuss it, but we had to decide in a matter of
minutes. I did NOT want to have surgery. I did NOT want to have a
surgery to get my baby out. I wanted to push. I wanted to scream
and push my baby out like a woman is supposed to do. And I just didn't
want to deal with being cut open. I mean, it's major surgery.
But we chose the c-section. I don't think we
would have if I had known how much better I was going to feel once I got to the
hospital and started my iv fluids. But I was still at zero centimeters
and no effacement and on a scale of 1-10, I was about a 1 for the odds of my
induction actually being a success. My doctor is the best there is, and
he did not tell me what to do. The decision was totally up to us.
But he said I was very likely to have my induction end in a c-section
anyway. I'm sure he would not have offered the c-section to us that very
evening if he was not nearly positive that's what he would have been doing the
following evening anyway.
Next I felt relief, but immediately felt regret to
go along with it. My entire family rushed to the hospital around 5 that
evening, and I ended up having Sophie so late and getting to a room so late,
that no one got to stay and see her except for my sister, my parents, and
Jason's mom. Everything went okay. It took a while to get my
epidural started. And about halfway through I was getting really nervous,
feeling like I could begin to feel things again in my legs and in my back.
My incredibly kind and calming anesthesiologist told me to let him know
if I felt like this was happening and he'd give me something else to finish out
the surgery. Well, I didn't know that I would basically be high after
that. So when my beautiful baby girl was born and I laid eyes on her and
heard her cry for the first time, I was totally calm. Didn't even cry.
I felt love for her, and relief, but not really any emotions. Even
when I got to hold her for the first time and have skin to skin contact, I
smiled, I was glad, but I was basically numb. That is so not me. I
did not get to feel all the feels that I should have. That I wanted to.
It was weird. Really weird. Birth story and already
motherhood was starting out not at all as I expected.
Now, some sunshine in this story was my husband.
It absolutely thrilled my heart to see him pick out Sophie's first
outfit, dress her, change her first poopy diaper, and be a daddy to our baby
girl while I was laid up in the bed after surgery. He was so nervous and
adorable. He loved her so much instantly, and she knew his voice and was
calmed when he talked to her. We shared many tender moments in that
hospital room. Still hadn't slept in days except for a wink or two here
and there, and terrified to take our eyes off of her, but for the moments we
stole a glance at each other instead of that angel, we shared a look that told
each other, "Yes, I know--things will never be the same. Can you
believe she's here? We're a family now. And I love you so much more
than I did before, because I see how much you love our baby."
Sophie was a baby that just didn't cry. In
the hospital, she slept, nursed, and looked around. She just barely
whimpered if she was hungry, but she simply did not cry like other babies.
I was the one crying all the time. However, she was different when
we brought her home. She cried all night long and did not sleep until the
next morning. She tried to eat all night. I had no idea that she
was not getting enough from me. When we took her to the doctor and they
told me I needed to supplement I was a little relieved because breastfeeding
was hard. I wanted to so badly, and I tried my best. But once
supplementing with a bottle started, that's what Sophie preferred because it
was so much easier. This was a loss for me. If you have ever been
there, you know.
I was a basket-case anyway. Baby blues had
hit me hard. Very hard. I cried most of the day for no reason, or
for every reason. Because I finally had a baby. Because Jason was
such a sweet daddy. Because my parents came and helped so much.
Because I finally had so many prayers answered after about a decade.
Because Sophie was so beautiful. Because she didn't sleep a lot.
Because I could not sleep at all. Because Jason had to go back to
work. Because it was November and it was dark all the time. Because
I finally had a baby. And it was nothing like I imagined, or hoped, that
it would be.
When I went back to my doctor after two weeks, and
he told me I was completely normal for feeling this way, I felt just a little
better. He said as long as I was functioning and not having any bad
thoughts that we'd try to get through this without medicine. But he
looked at me and told me to call him ASAP if things got worse, and looked at
Jason and told him the same thing. I was beginning to feel better and
then Bam! Just like clockwork, at two weeks old the dreaded colic showed
up and stayed for about 6-7 weeks. I think this made my baby blues drag
out even longer because it was so sad and depressing watching your baby go
through this. From 5-10 p.m. every night she would cry. Scream.
Kick. And cry some more. We changed formula five times, had
her poop examined, tried everything I read on the internet, and it still just
had to wear off by itself. Colic sucks.
Fast forward...I have to go back to work and she
has to go to daycare. She gets sick all the time, has multiple ear
infections, we try everything under the sun, and she still has to have tubes at
7 months old. And of course it was my fault because I could not
breastfeed, so I made my own baby sick. My nerves were very bad. I
was terrified every time she had a runny nose. We had about one good
month in the summer when she did not need to go to the doctor for some reason.
She was just so sick her first year.
And I was mad a lot. Upset and deflated a
lot. Worried a lot. But mostly--jealous.
Y'all, jealousy is one of my problems. It's
one of my biggest symptoms of sin in my life. I was jealous when other
people had their babies naturally, or at least vaginally. Jealous when I
heard of people going into labor on their own and just two pushes and the baby
came! Jealous when everyone else was nursing and shoving it in your face,
"Breast is best!" Jealous when all the other babies in the
world did not have colic and mine did. Jealous and mad when people
carried their newborns around everywhere and never got sick and my poor baby
had RSV at five weeks old and colic at the same time! Mad when other
people's babies were sleeping long stretches or all night, because mine didn't.
Jealous because I had to go back to work and some other moms didn't.
Jealous especially when they said things like, "My husband said I
don't have to go back to work, but I love my job so much I can't imagine not
doing it anymore!" What?!
Every now and then I would get a hard jolt back
into reality when I would hear of someone else who lost their baby, or someone
who's baby was born with major medical issues and had to stay in the NICU for
weeks or months. Then there were always the women on my mind who had never been
able to conceive or carry a baby to term. It made me realize that I could
be a lot worse off, and so could Sophie. I would feel guilty, but it
wouldn't change my mindset. And before long, I would be just as mad and
jealous of other 'perfect' babies, mommas, and families out there.
Social media can be a great place. But real
life and real community are better. Sometimes we post the real stuff.
The hard stuff. The ugly stuff. But mostly we post the great
stuff, the awesome stuff, the happiest stuff. Because although it's okay
to be real, we don't normally share our hardships on social media because,
well...some things should just stay private. And everyone on your friends
list is not always really your friend. So while we post 'real life'
things sometimes because they are humorous, we don't usually get down to the
nitty gritty because you usually only share those kinds of things with close
friends or someone you can trust in your church, your family, or support group.
And that's where they should stay. <-----That was free. :)
So understandably, I mostly got upset when I
scrolled through my newsfeed and saw all these happy posts from other mommies
celebrating little milestones, reminding me of how inadequate I was as a
mother. Someone else had a baby 'the way you're supposed to.' This
mommy was more awesome than me because she used cloth diapers. Another
mommy showed off her ability to feed her own child the way a mother should and
bragged about it by posting a photo and the caption, "Yay mommy's
milk!" Yet another mother was shoving it in my face that she had
multiple children and a newborn and still managed to do all the cleaning,
cooking, and adore her husband. Meanwhile, I could barely go to work and
do laundry. Jason took over everything else. All I could do when I
got home from work was hold my baby and play with her. I did not attempt
to cook dinner, ever. Jason just did it. I did not attempt to clean
the kitchen or wash bottles, ever. Jason just did it. I truly felt
like I could not put my baby down and spend time away from her while I was in
her presence. I had to have my eyes on her at all times. And
mentally, I just could not function right. Something was just different
and I could not explain what it was. I felt handicapped now that I had a
baby and I hated everyone else that was normal. I just couldn't do
everyday tasks with her, and I felt so silly and ridiculous. I didn't
want to leave the house or do the things I used to for fun. I didn't even
want to sing. I did a great job going back to work, but at home and
socially, things were different. I only wanted to be 'mommy' and Sophie
was the only thing that made me happy. I still don't know if it was the
shock of motherhood, and that it wasn't what I thought (because I thought it
would be a breeze, HA!). Or if it was postpartum depression that was
worse than I really thought it was and I just didn't recognize it. Or if
I really could have done my normal, everyday tasks, but just used Sophie as an
excuse to NOT do things anymore. I really don't know.
But what I do know is that the jealousy I felt when
other mothers were happy and successful was getting out of hand. See, I
had this kind of jealousy before. During the time I was single and
everyone else was getting married and having babies, I was extremely jealous of
their happiness. I did not want them to be miserable and unhappy, but I
just hated it because I wasn't happy yet. Make sense? I was married
at a young age and divorced by the time I was 25. I had a miscarriage
during that time and missed out on everything I had ever wanted--to be a wife
and a mother. I recovered from that and had a good life, was growing in
knowledge of the Word, and growing closer to God, but I still had not let Him
work on this jealousy issue yet. It was mine and I was holding onto it.
You know how some people seem happiest when they are miserable? They
have to have something wrong all the time (or at least one continual wrong
thing) so they can fuss and let everyone know how bad they've got it? Get
the picture here? It was my identity. I was the single girl with no
children and no hope in sight. So I put on that identity because if I
could be mad about it, then I was still in some kind of control, or illusion of
control. If I could be mad about it, I was not getting real about it yet.
If I could be mad about it, then the mad-ness masked my vulnerability in
this situation---which was, I did not have control and could no more make
myself be married with a family any more than I could make myself be Queen of
England. When I realized this and when I finally figured out that each of
us has a story, and HER story is not MY story, then I could truly be happy for
all those gals getting married and having babies. Because hey, I probably
would not want to be in their shoes anyway. I knew that God had my story
written already and I had come to terms with letting him be the Lord of my
life, and was at peace with staying single if that was His will for me.
But so often in life we find ourselves dealing with
the same demons that pop up over and over again...
So, one particular day in January of this year
(that's when I started writing this post by the way, {it is now July} because
I'm still trying to figure out this mom thing and how to do things that I used
to love and need to do for myself) I must have been scouring FaceBook and came
across several mommy and baby posts. I pitched a little fit to myself and
retraced every step and every word Jason and I said in the doctor's office
trying to decide if we should have a c-section that night or wait and induce
the next day. I punished myself once again for not telling them I had
changed my mind once I got to the hospital and got fluids and felt so much
better. I agonized over the decision we made to have Sophie that night
and not give myself a chance to push the next day and actually give birth.
I obsessed over the fact that I made all the wrong decisions for her
right from the beginning, and dangit, I could not even breastfeed my own child
so what kind of woman was I anyway???
Then, in an instant, it was like God spoke to me
and the message was as plain as the nose on my face. I heard Him say,
"STOP. Stop doing this to yourself, Misty. You are Sophie's
mother. That's a fact. And it doesn't matter how she got here and
it doesn't matter what kind of milk she had. Those times are a small
fraction of her whole life and those details don't really matter. What
matters is where you will spend eternity and if you will bring Sophie with you.
Are you raising her in a home where I am the focus? Are you
teaching her my Word? Are you praying over her and trusting her to ME?
Is she going to know me because of YOU?"
***Mic drop***
All of a sudden it was crystal clear.
Everything. It all made sense, and it was all okay.
The answer to the question is I AM going to heaven
and I AM taking Sophie with me! And yes, we are raising her in a home where she
will know Jesus. So I knew that actually
I AM doing what the Lord requires of me.
And all that other stuff is okay because it does not have a direct
effect on His kingdom or eternity.
So ladies, I wrote this lengthy, detailed experience
partly because it was therapeutic for me, and partly so you could feel my pain.
You needed to know how I was hurting and how badly my thinking was messed
up, so you could see how it could have only been God who was able to make me
throw aside those insignificant details and focus on the real prize.
Eternity. So many times we are temporal minded, and as the church,
we need to be eternity-minded. This is our main goal. But how
quickly we forget when we begin to think of ourselves, our feelings, and our
plans more than God's plan and purpose for our lives. When we lose our
focus [Him] everything else becomes skewed.
There is a scripture that came to mind immediately once this thought dropped into my spirit. Of course, these are things I
already knew, but sometimes they do not become real to you until you are
right in the middle of a mess. Then if you are familiar with a scripture,
you're able to recall it and apply it to your situation.
2 Corinthians 4:17-18New
International Version (NIV)
17 For our light and momentary troubles are
achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So
we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is
seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
To all the moms out there, even though I still consider
myself new at this, I just want to encourage you! I am doing much better than I was
before. I am finally used to the
‘unknown’ of parenthood and have loosened up some. Maybe you were like me. Maybe you were the complete opposite. Maybe it came easier for you (I am still a
little jealous of you!). But if it had
come easier for me, I would not have learned what I know now. We are all doing great because we are all
doing the best we can. And God makes up
for where we lack! When we “zoom in” on the
details--when we are so worried about the newborn photos, nursery color scheme,
breast vs. bottle, ballet lessons, private school, etc. we are looking at the
little picture. God wants us to look at
the BIG PICTURE! He wants us to have our
minds on heavenly things, and put our investment there. He doesn’t want us to worry, especially about
things that won’t matter in the hereafter.
Those things take away our energy and keep us from doing things for
HIM. So, the next time we are stressing
out or beating ourselves up, we need to pull back and ask ourselves, “Is this
what God wants me to focus on? Is this
part of the big picture?” If it isn’t,
then pray about it, zoom out, and relax.
Hasn’t God proven to you already that He knows how to take care of you?
Matthew 6:33New International Version (NIV)
33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
Much love,
Misty.
