It Will Take as Long as It Takes: Reflections on the Past Year

I want to start off this post with gratitude for the overwhelming support and encouragement I received from all of you in response to my last post. As I'm sure you detected, I was feeling incredibly discouraged upon publishing the post. I actually hesitated being so vulnerable on the blog, but when I asked Andy what he thought, he simply said, "Yep, that's where we are" and gave the go ahead to hit "publish." So, again, thank you for lifting our spirits and surrounding us with solidarity. It was much needed.

Now onto tonight's post...

Today we celebrate Mr. D's first birthday. The milestone is bittersweet for me, as I reflect on the past year, and all the joy and pain that has filled it. I wish I could say that I am looking back with rose-colored glasses, that I can laugh now at those first days, weeks, and months. But I can't. Don't get me wrong, I love Mr. D with all my heart, and am so thankful for his presence in our lives. Yet, the fact remains that I had a difficult birth and postpartum period, and continue to face challenges related to my experience.

After hearing my birth story, a friend asked me if, a year later, I felt any better about my birth experience. I responded a bit too emphatically, "No!" How long will it take before I feel at peace about this time in my life? The lesson from this year seems to be: It will take as long as it takes. 

I have not posted a birth story for Mr. D (which seems to be almost a requirement if you have a mommy blog) because I don't like being negative, and I don't want to seem like "woe is me" all the time. (Otherwise, I might have to change the name of the blog to Moody Dreamer...haha). While I will save the nitty gritty details of my labor and birth for another post (which you can totally skip if you're not into reading about that sort of thing), I do want to share how it has shaped my motherhood so far.

Labor was long, and much harder than I ever thought possible. We took a Bradley-method birth preparation class, during which we saw a video of a water birth at home. The look on the woman's face as she met her baby stirred something deep inside me. I wanted that. That look of love, connection, strength, and peace. I hoped that those things would be the natural results (rewards) of going through labor and delivery sans drugs. I was wrong.

Most of the time, even with Andy or one of the midwives there beside me, I felt alone. No one else was experiencing my pain, and no one could relieve it. The room was dark, because I couldn't stand the light, but my soul also felt dark. I felt small, alone, and scared. I've never felt more scared in my life. The pain was too much. Maybe I would just die from the pain. But I didn't die. The pain continued. I kept asking how much longer. If only I knew how much longer before it would be over, I could make it through. It was the prospect of labor continuing another day that terrified me. Every time, I got the same answer, It will take as long as it takes.

All in all, from start to finish, my labor was two days, and three nights long. I want to clarify that Mr. D was being monitored regularly, and was never in any danger during my extended birth process. In fact, he seemed to be completely oblivious to what was going on. The little stinker. ;) 

Fear, anxiety, and distress continued even after Mr. D was delivered from my body, and placed into my exhausted arms. I was glad that labor was over, but the joy and peace that I had expected were missing. Now I know that this was the start of what would be a year of postpartum depression and anxiety. 

I alluded to it in my posts, and several of you connected the dots without me telling you outright. Some days and weeks are better than others, and there have been periods of time, when I thought it was gone. But, I have grown to accept that this may stick around for awhile, and I have determined to be very proactive about my care and recovery. This means medication, counseling, self-care, and prayer, among other things. I am reminded of my midwife's words as I was in labor, desperate to know how much longer before it was over: It will take as long as it takes. 

Isn't that true, though, for all of us? We are constantly in a state of becoming, and oftentimes grow impatient as we wait to reach proficiency and comfort in each new role. How long before I am healed of postpartum depression? It will take as long as it takes. How long before I feel adept as a mom? It will take as long as it takes. 

So, I am trying to be patient with myself, and with the timetable of my healing. And in the meantime, I am soaking in the soft, baby fresh skin, the chuckles, the scampering, clapping, and games of peekaboo--all the little joys of motherhood. Because I don't want to wait until I am fully healed to treasure these moments. Because if I wait, I might miss them completely. 

I love you so much, Mr. D.