Since my last post in APRIL!!! 😳 (<— b t dubs SO happy I figured out how to get emojis in WordPress- was feeling so censored!)…I have completely flipped my life upside down.
Ever since we had baby #2- our 3 bedroom townhome that at one time felt so spacious with it’s empty rooms full of possibilities started to seem very, very tight. I couldn’t escape the toys- they followed me everywhere I went. The bathtub, the kitchen, they haunted me in my sleep. I “purged” so many times hauling bags and bags of toys to Greendrop but alas- it seemed futile. I was tired of not feeling able to host holiday’s or parties due to our cramped space. I went back and forth from being grateful for what we have…. to ..if only we had a bigger house.
I would spend my days driving by homes for sale on Zillow. Determined to find a way to make it work. I was raised that if you want something – you have to work for it. Which I’ve never had a problem with – Good, Bad, or Indifferent- if I want something bad enough, I will work my butt off and find a way to get it. So If I wanted a new house… Mama’s gonna have to work for it.
This post has been rolling around in my head ever since I shared a video on my Facebook Blog Page about a mother who decided to share pictures of her stillborn baby.
A series of events happened over the course of the week or two after I saw this video that even further drove my thoughts on the topic of not only stillbirth but of this notion of nature not always “getting it right”. The events included a few friends suffering early miscarriages (which I am no stranger to) and then having the privilege of having two very intimate conversations with mother’s in my circle who have lost babies after 20 weeks gestation. Listening to their stories felt like I was given sacred privileged information and I was now a gate keeper of a tiny sliver of their hearts.
At 32, my Facebook newsfeed and Instagram is heavily populated by pregnancy and birth announcements. Which I truly do enjoy; but being the pessimistic, nervous Nelly that I am- I can’t help but think sometimes how is it that EVERY pregnancy announcement always is followed by a healthy mom and baby? Its not that I want things to go wrong for anyone, but the statistics do not add up in my scientific brain. The tragic inevitable truth is that nature is not without it’s flaws and does not always get it right. A pregnancy does not always equal a smiling mom and baby…or a baby at all… yet we seldom hear or see these stories.
I’ve been hesitating on writing Josephine’s birth story because well, it was nothing like I had expected or planned and there is still a lot of disappointment and even trauma there. My Sweet Josephine is now 13 months old. We celebrated her first birthday a little over a month ago. I assumed everyone around me knew the story behind Josephine’s birth, but I keep getting the same reaction when they hear it: You need to write about this. When I sat down to start this post, I had a draft already started but I think it was too hard for me to finish it then- well I am ready now.
I don’t even know where to begin and I apologize in advance because I have no idea how many words this is going to take me.
Here we go…
After I came to my decision for a homebirth, I would drive the twenty minutes every 4 weeks to a rural town dotted with horse farms and cow pastures, toddler in tow. A dirt road led me to a small sign with the image of a mother holding a child and I would meet my two midwives in a cozy two room converted shed with a coal stove as the only source of heat. My two midwives were very different from each other, one authoritative, confident, and a little aloof… the other gentle, warm and compassionate.
My measurements were always normal at every prenatal appointment so I thought I was smooth sailing into a homebirth, however I always would say I just felt off. I was bluey, exhausted, lonely (yet isolating myself), and just blah. I wasn’t excited in the slightest for this new child and felt terribly guilty about it. I blamed the exhaustion of being pregnant with a toddler and all of the aches and pains of pregnancy for why I felt this way. I just kept thinking, as soon as the baby is born: I would feel better. I spent the pregnancy reading books on natural birth (I seriously read them all: My favorite was this one if you are interested: Birthing from Within), doing yoga, meditating, watching documentaries on homebirth, I took it ridiculously serious.
I should let you guys in on a secret…. I never enjoyed writing much. Hands down my least favorite subject in school was English & Lit, my most dreaded college course was composition. I think I ended up with a C. So how did I end up authoring a blog?! I just have a ton of feelings in this little body and putting them into words clears my head, helps me organize my thoughts, and is truly therapeutic. Only one downfall though, I could never be a professional writer (and why I’ll probably never make any money off of this blog ha). I have to be inspired in order to sit down and put pen to paper. Or in this case; fingers to keys. So I apologize for the hiatus…I guess life just hasn’t been that interesting lately (which I’m partly happy about)
A lot of my posts in the last year or so have been primarily about myself and pregnancy and the ever so dreadful post partum depression/anxiety. I haven’t written about my first baby, my darling girl; Masilyn Marie in quite some time.
She recently turned three. THREE! And started pre-school, so we are officially apart of the back-to-school grind. I realized for the first time really why people say “it goes so fast” and “don’t blink!”. Because I almost felt like once I enrolled her in pre-school, the rat race started. And from here on out it’s going to be Christmas break, then summer break, then starting a new school year, then graduation, then marriage, then…. okay, I’ll stop. But you get the point. It makes me yearn for the simpler days of life but also holds a lot of fun and joy.