LYDIA ON LIFE

“You are not the only one to experience this confining, crazy making inner chaos within yourself.”
―

Judy Dippel

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When discussing my birth plan with my midwife I had always said I was open for anything as long as my baby and I were safe. Since my pregnancy was deemed low risk I had a lot of birthing options available to me so like any other mum-to-be I started imagining what my perfect birth would look like.

I’d be wearing my favourite yellow bikini top submerged in a pool full of warm water with my hair tied neatly up in a cute bun and my face slightly made up (the “no make-up” make-up look to be exact). J.Cole or an old school R’n’B mix made by my sister would be playing in the background whilst I danced the contractions away. This would probably be the only time my mum would accept me listening to hip hop in the same room as her so why not take the opportunity – curse words and everything.

As I puffed away at some gas and air my mum would be holding my hand encouraging me to push. Once my baby was out I’d hear him cry and the midwife would hand him to me straight away onto my chest whilst my mum captured the moment on my camera. I’d be smiling from ear to ear and tears of joy and happiness would be falling on my highlighted cheeks whilst holding him in my arms before finally announcing his name to everyone for the first time.

Something straight out of a movie, right? Sadly things didn’t go the way for me. Being open to anything is one thing but being prepared for anything is another.

My son Matthew was born via emergency caesarean section (c-section) after failing to dilate despite undergoing going 3 painful attempt to induce labour. I’ve shared my labour and delivery experience before but there’s more to delivering a baby that I feel not a lot of people talk enough about.

From the moment the doctors told me I’d be having an emergency c-section right up till when they wheeled me out of the theatre I had tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t stop crying. When my mother brought him to me so that I could see him I didn’t feel how I thought I’d feel. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t overjoyed or excited. I wasn’t anything. I was blank. I could see how excited my mother was as she danced around with him kissing him and talking to him and I just looked at her thinking why don’t I feel like that. I’d always thought that which ever method of giving birth I went through the emotional experience would be exactly the same. I’d automatically get all those lovely feelings you’re meant to feel when you’ve got a new baby but I didn’t. It wasn’t until 2 months after giving birth I understood why.

For the last 41 weeks and 5 days I’d felt my son moving inside of me anxiously waiting to experience him come out and all of that was taken away from me. I didn’t get to see him, I didn’t get to feel him and I didn’t get to hold him for the first time like I imagined. I remember having this feeling of emptiness the moment they pulled him out. My mother went over to get him from the midwives whilst I just laid there. All I could feel were the tears falling down my exhausted make-up free face. But these weren’t tears of joy or excitement. They were tears of worry, confusion and anxiety. All I kept asking my mum was “is he ok” when in all honest I wasn’t sure if I was ok.

When they wheeled me back into the postnatal ward I didn’t know what time of the day it was or even if it was still the same day I arrived at the hospital. I felt dirty, tired, uncomfortable and distressed. Even seeing my son lying next to me in his cubical didn’t make a difference. I was relieved he was ok and he was finally here safely but that was it. That’s all I felt. I thought, is that what giving birth is supposed to feel like, relieved? This can’t be it, can it?

But it was for me. Before I had time to understand what I was feeling, I was being congratulated on the delivery and shown how to breastfeed. I’d always wanted to breastfeed so I thought, surely this will help me feel how I’m supposed to feel, right?. Wrong. In fact, it made things worse. I struggled to latch him on and the whole experience was so painful and frustrating I gave up. I was tired, confused and disappointed in myself. I thought, if my body couldn’t adjust to bringing him into this world and is now struggling to comprehend him finally being here, would I be able to adjust to looking after him when I go home? I know that’s not how I should have thought about it but I couldn’t help it. Nothing was going how I thought it would. I felt like I wasn’t cut out for this and my body was proving it to me.

It was like I had failed him again. First by failing to keep the relationship between me and his father and now failing to deliver him naturally or even breastfeed him. All those thoughts were swirling in my mind but I didn’t let anyone know. How could I? Admitting it to anyone felt like I was admitting I’d made a mistake and that I wasn’t ready for this. What kind of mother would I be if I admitted that? I’d remained so positive throughout my pregnancy despite what was going on I never thought that after finally seeing my son that this is how I’d feel. So instead of admitting it to anyone, I smiled when everyone else smiled and just kept saying I can’t believe he is here.

No one prepares you for this. No one tells you about this side of giving birth. The side that isn’t happy. The side that isn’t excited or overjoyed. It wasn’t until 3 weeks later when my health visitor came that I actually shared a bit of how I was really feeling. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since giving birth but I couldn’t keep it together anymore. The lump in my through wouldn’t let me get out all of the things I was feeling so I just kept saying I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing or if I’m good enough to look after him. She reassured me that it was normal to feel like that and I’m doing the best job and if I still felt like that after a few days there were support groups I could go to. But in all honesty, none of that was comforting. None of it took away this overwhelming feeling that I wasn’t ready. For a few weeks I never knew how to properly answer people when they asked “How does it feel to be a mum?” Truth is I didn’t feel like one.

Was I depressed? Did I not love my baby? Was I a terrible mother?

The answer was no. I wasn’t depressed, I did (and still do) love my baby and I wasn’t a terrible mother. I was experiencing the downside of giving birth that not a lot of people talk about – the baby blues.

According to NCT the “baby blues” affects as many as 8 in 10 mums shortly after having their baby and usually goes away after 10 to 14 days. I’d heard of postpartum depression but never knew about baby blues. Pain, the stress of new responsibilities, and lack of sleep can make the baby blues worse. I didn’t know it at the time but after what felt like the longest and most difficult month of my life I now know it was a part of becoming a mother.

My body had changed, my lifestyle had changed, I felt important and inadequate at the same time and it was all happening at once. The rollercoaster of emotions you go through are nothing close to what the name suggests. For a month I felt like the worst mother and worst woman in the world and no amount of pretending was changing that. Now, nearly 3 months on every time I see him, hold him, smell him, or kiss him, I’m filled with some of those lovely feelings I was so longing to feel. I still have a long way to go but I’m grateful to be on the journey to enjoying motherhood.

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Giving birth, even if it goes as smoothly as it can, is something that takes time to process mentally. At no other time in our lives will we have so many changes happen in such a short time. Having a caesarean section (c-section), in particular, often causes lots of different emotions that many first-time mums are not prepared for. I believe knowing about these emotions is important before giving birth and I wish I had done my research or been informed more about it by my midwives during my pregnancy. If I had known that this would have happened I may not have felt like the worst mother in the world and been more open to sharing how i really felt sooner.

Was this a failure on the NHS? Maybe. I think if the midwives had spoken to me about these things during my pregnancy perhaps I could have avoided such prolonged baby blues or understood what it was when it happened. I was lucky it didn’t turn into depression but not everyone is so lucky.

Now that I’ve gotten over my baby blues and enjoying the baby bliss (I made that one up) I wanted to share my experience so others can see what it can look like. I had my version of baby blues and you will have yours. It may be similar to mine or it may not. The important thing is to know that you are not the first women or the last one to go through it and nothing you feel is invalid or exaggerated. Feel the fear, hurt and frustration and do the mum thing anyway. Find people (like me) who you can share your experience with and don’t be ashamed to seek medical advice. Speaking about it isn’t easy (trust me I know) but it’s important to do so.

I was fortunate enough to have support from my family and friends so I could focus on my recovery and get used to my new life but there were moments where it was just me and my baby and I’d question everything about my ability to look after him. Whenever a negative thought came to my mind I kept telling myself that I am made for this and I can do this and as long as I looked after myself then I’ll be able to look after my baby. Words of affirmation can really change your thinking.

Be patience with yourself and accept any help you can get so you can focus on recovering as this in itself is hard work let alone having to do it whilst looking after a baby. I know it’s not easy but you didn’t come this far and go through all that pain to give up now.

If you could describe your pregnancy, birth and recovery experience in 3 words what would they be? Let me know in the comments below.

Till next time.

Love always,
Lydia x

P.S: Merry Christmas from me and Matthew!