My Messy Middle

It's amazing how strong it is - the inner sense of knowing I feel when it dawns on me. The thread that has been here all along, connecting all the things that have been so hard these past several months. The strength of my knowing shocks me because it feels like forever since I've felt this certain about anything. 

And that's the thread connecting so much of this; somewhere along the way, I lost the ability to trust my body. I did everything "right" - was active and healthy, intentionally fueling my body to grow our sweet Ellie. It feels like a fundamental betrayal how sideways everything went. Not to mention all the stress and challenges placed on our path as we navigated an uncertain journey. 

Is this the price I needed to pay for having a relatively easy time getting pregnant? Since I didn't weather the pain of loss, was a high-risk pregnancy riddled with complications my twisted consolation prize?

If I couldn't trust my body to support and grow a healthy pregnancy, what can I trust it to do? My body's failure at a task that feels so fundamental to what it means to be a woman has eroded my trust in by body's ability to do anything. And as my trust in my body eroded, so did my general trust in myself. It slowly sifted away like a fading shoreline as the tide goes out. It faded away so slowly that I didn't notice I'd lost it until I looked back in retrospect.

But, it makes so much sense now; to realize how my inability to trust myself and my body got worse and worse with each complication. And so, it got to the point where I second-guessed and doubted every little thing. My already anxious brain managed to get worse which I didn't think was possible.

Every appointment, I wondered if my body would cooperate with us enough to secure me a few more days at home. I worried about everything from what I ate to how active I was to how much I lifted stuff to how I existed in the world. It's like, on some level, I thought my worrying could save us. Perhaps if I was diligent enough, we could get this baby to 37 weeks. But that's not what happened.

I did make it through several more appointments, securing an extra 22.5 days at home. Yet, my worrying couldn't change the outcome we ended up with. An abrupt delivery at 34+1 and then a long 27 day stay in the NICU as Ellie grew. Certainly not the way I hoped or imagined sweet Ellie Brooke would make her entrance into the world. And yet, she's her and she is absolutely perfect. 

Sure, she's had more than her fair share of challenges, but she has always been a little fighter. Today, having her ties released is yet another challenge in our path. Yet, somehow I know that we will weather it together. I am equal parts hopeful and terrified because I so desperately want (and need) this to work. My heart longs to be able to nourish and care for Ellie by being able to breastfeed. In some ways that feels like the way I can reconcile and make up for all the ways my body fell short during pregnancy. 

Being able to nurse Abby for more than 3 years was hard, but it was also such a gift. Looking back, it feels like that's how I finally made peace with our growth restriction with Abby's pregnancy. As if, if I could do enough on the back end, that could somehow make up for all that I couldn't do for her in utero. I know I'm not supposed to look at it that way, but all the sacrifices hardly felt like enough to make up for all the ways I have and will continue to fall short as a mother. 

Even as I write that, I know it sounds ridiculous. If any other mom told me she was feeling that way, I would cheer her on and reassure her that she is the perfect mama for her littles. Why can't I extend that same tenderness, care, and grace to myself?

I think it comes back to that piece about not trusting myself. The whole experience of a complicated pregnancy with a very much unwanted ending has so completely eroded my self-trust and confidence that anxiety and doubt are my default states of being. So, because I don't trust myself, I look for validation, guidance, and reassurance at every turn. I've always been afraid of failure, but with kids the stakes are just so much higher. I would fail myself 1,000 times over to avoid my failures negatively impacting Abby and Ellie. But, ultimately it doesn't work that way. 

Motherhood is messy - I will mess up and make mistakes and fall short. Yet, in doing so, I will be able to teach my girls the beauty of asking for forgiveness and the wonderful gift of grace. I can teach them that they are loved and cherished and worthy just as they are. And, perhaps in teaching them that they are enough, I can learn it as well. It is a lesson that we must learn again and again, but gosh, there is so much beauty in embracing it. 

What if we could be loved right in our messy middle?...What if we already are?