After nine months of unending anxiety, Amelia Jane was born healthy on May 12th, 2024 – Mother’s Day, of all days, which feels so redemptive after a year of grief and loss. For all my Googling about everything that could possibly go wrong, my pregnancy was actually quite boring, medically speaking.
A brief summary of labor
Birth, however, was a different story, with one complication following another. After being turned away from the hospital because my contractions weren’t close enough together, I was admitted a day later because Millie’s heart rate had slowed a bit. Intervention for an induction began immediately after that, and I soon learned why so many women have bitter feelings about Pitocin. I had two failed epidurals (what are the odds?!) and a second-degree tear by the time she came out, almost thirty hours later.
And she didn’t come out easily – not just because she was 8 pounds, 6 ounces. Her shoulder got stuck, turning an otherwise normal birth into an emergency situation. Before I could understand what was happening, the room filled with doctors pushing down on my abdomen (again, no functioning epidural). When she was officially born, they immediately whisked her away for oxygen, as they should have done – but no one could tell me what was going on.
The minute or so it took for her to cry was the longest and most panic-filled of my life. I couldn’t believe that I could make it this far, so close to finally meeting my rainbow baby, only to lose her immediately after birth.
But then Kyla, my doula, squeezed my hand and said “She’s starting to pink up, she’s gonna be okay,” and then I heard it: my daughter’s first cry. And that was all it took to trigger my own ugly crying, especially when she was finally placed on my chest for skin-to-skin.
Her left shoulder was bruised purple, but that thankfully faded after a few days. Some babies who experience shoulder dystocia end up with broken clavicles, but my girl fared well. And she was born with the most beautiful head of dark hair (explains the terrible third trimester heartburn!).
That moment was filled with such deep joy and relief, but not without a bit of trauma mixed in. It’s still emotional for me to think about. I just praise God that everything turned out okay, and that I had a fantastic medical team who acted quickly in all the right ways. Postpartum recovery is hard, but the joy my little girl brings makes it all so worth it. I am truly blessed and humbled to be her mom.
Reflections at 6 weeks postpartum
When I found out I was pregnant a second time, I told myself I would never complain about the difficulties of motherhood if this pregnancy resulted in a healthy baby at the end.
Let me just say, six weeks into parenthood, that that didn’t end up happening. There’s a reason why sleep deprivation is used as a torture method, okay?
In all seriousness, I’m learning rather quickly that it’s okay to acknowledge different kinds of hard things. Infertility and miscarriage were hard- some of the hardest struggles of my life. It was hard to hear other mothers complain about lack of sleep or time to themselves when they had the very thing I desperately wanted.
But sleep deprivation is also hard. Rocking a crying baby at 4am who still won’t sleep after multiple feedings and diaper changes is hard. The recovery from a very difficult labor, with stitches and high blood pressure, is hard. My motherhood is still very new, and I’m already over the unofficial competition of whose hard is hardest.
I’m deeply grateful for a healthy pregnancy and beautiful baby girl. I’m thankful for medical staff who did everything right when her birth became a matter of urgency. And truthfully, I’m thankful for the ways that my previous hardships are shaping me to deal with motherhood’s challenges today.
It’s all hard: beautifully so. And that’s okay.
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