Some Thoughts On This Mother's Day
As I rock my not-so-little baby to sleep, I started crying—thinking about being a mom and all that it has entailed. It hasn’t been easy, and it was nowhere near what I predicted or expected.
It’s so much more.
It’s so much harder, and yet so much better. It’s so much scarier than I thought, while also bringing more laughter than I ever imagined.
And while our first pregnancy and postpartum season went the way it did, this time, I’m doing it differently. I’m being honest with myself in a new way. I’m letting the emotions be felt and sitting in the mess they bring up. I have more support and knowledge now—including a counselor—and I’m more in tune with myself in a more intentional way.
Looking back on my first pregnancy and postpartum season allows me to see my journey in a different light. I was anxious but stuck in survival mode, just making decisions. I’m sure there were big emotions, because some of them are coming out now, but back then, I just rolled with the punches. The jaundice testing, Echos, oxygen, more and more tests to see if we could get rid of the oxygen, and the defeat of being on oxygen longer—those are some layers I’m still processing as I realize how much they affected me. It was hard. And it is hard, because I wish I could go back and give that version of myself a hug. I’m proud of her. I’m also grateful that seasons change. (And, this doesn’t even touch on the labor, delivery, and breastfeeding fiasco of it.)
There’s grief in my journey going completely differently than I expected—or even slightly imagined. There’s gratitude for my body and how it carried me through. And there’s a whole lot of love for the people in my corner who loved me well—including Jesus—even when I didn’t always see it.
Here’s to seasons changing, to prioritizing my own mental health, and to the layers of healing along the way.
Also, here’s to becoming a better clinician by doing my own work, learning more about perinatal and postpartum, and holding space for other’s along their journey.
