I’m at a really difficult point in pregnancy and life that just sort of snuck up on me. Things were going really well and I was feeling strong and hopeful. I’m not anymore. I’m feeling really anxious, terrified, and discouraged. My baby bump gets bigger every day and so does my anxiety about giving birth. I recovered from such a traumatic birth that left me feeling so ready for this baby, but that recovery seems to slip away from me as the due date gets closer. I remain pretty isolated which is defeating as hell. It almost seems like the hospital is trying to keep me away with all of their COVID restrictions. I don’t feel welcome there at all. I feel so conflicted about the hospital system. I feel dependent on them on the one hand after everything we went through with Simon, but so suspicious of their callous model of care at the same time. I don’t want to tell them anything I’m going through out of fear they will be dismissive or overreactive. I don’t want to be misunderstood out of their busy-ness and unwillingness to deal with such a low-risk pregnancy. I don’t want them to give me advice that goes against my deeply-held Catholic values.
In an effort to reconcile everything, I go to the online birth resources/communities I like to see what they have to say about someone in my position but, like everything now, it is horribly polarized. Either the medical model is EVERYTHING to those who believe in it or it is TRASH to those who prefer natural birth. I feel so caught in the middle with it. I had a beautiful natural labor in the hospital that turned into an acute medical emergency that almost took our son. How am I supposed to feel comfortable to birth this baby anywhere with no one who seems to understand or care what I’m going through?
There have been other trauma triggers that popped up recently. It doesn’t matter what they are or how long it’s been, they bring me to my knees emotionally every single time. I had some bleeding that ended up being okay. I am continually brought right back to engorgement in the early days as my breasts get bigger with pregnancy. I read a cute book about birth and fetal development to Simon last night–it had an illustration of a mom with her baby in her arms immediately after birth. Both my husband and I were brought to tears with that one. The triggers come closer together now as our minds shift to accept the imminent labor and birth of my second son. I am not surprised by them. Part of the discernment in having a second baby was the ultimate acceptance that, no matter how much we spaced our children, labor and birth would always be a trigger. I didn’t realize how much courage I had in accepting that and choosing to be open to life anyways. My courage wavers now. I hope that, by divine grace, I am able to face my second birth with strength I know I could never muster on my own. It’s becoming clear to me in all of this how human I am. How vulnerable. How fragile. How much of my heart was broken in the wake of Simon’s birth and NICU stay. I’m terrified for it all to happen again but acknowledge that it could. I’m trying to tell myself that, even if it does, I am more familiar with everything now. I know what labor feels like. I know where the pumping room is at the NICU. I know better how to take care of myself so I can avoid 3 trips to the ER. I just feel so betrayed to know all of that, and at the thought that I could have to face it all again. I’m also scared that my anxiety will lead to another traumatic birth. I don’t know how to be at peace with the uniqueness of this pregnancy and an unpredictable birth that hasn’t happened yet. My brain wants to compare it to Simon’s so bad. And that’s not fair to anyone, least of all my beautiful preborn baby. In preparing my mind for this birth, I grieve the moments I never got with Simon all over again. I feel the weight of him being taken from my arms moments after birth over and over again as I picture the possibility of that moment with my new baby. It makes me want to hug Simon and never let him go. I know that I will likely face postpartum depression again, but that doesn’t scare me as much. I’m just at a low point and I’m scared. I feel alone and am working to accept the many crosses that come with my vocation as a mom. In a world full of natural birth professionals who tell me that I’m an empowered goddess for my ability to give life, I just want to be a normal woman who can’t do this without God. I am only getting through all of this by placing my fear at the foot of the Cross.
I made the mistake of thinking I could control the outcome of my birth, to my ultimate mental health demise and physical injury. It was a good lesson in trust, surrender, and humility. I feel myself wanting to do the same thing with this birth even more now to try and avoid what happened. I don’t know how to go about this alone. I don’t know who to reach out to who I can trust. It is a truly lonely experience and I just want to feel the full weight of that until it gets lighter.
Quirks 