Wasn't it all supposed to be more beautiful than this?

It's somewhat funny, I went back and read the posts I wrote in the months leading up to Ellie being born as we walked through a high-risk pregnancy. And, again and again, I kept saying "we just want a happy and healthy baby." Sure, that was and is true, but I'm also realizing that I said that because it felt like what I was "supposed" to say. I was clinging to that sentiment because everything happening was so far outside of my control that I was trying to find any comfort to hold on to. There was certainly truth to the statement - having a healthy and happy baby was my hope. AND, as I'm continuing to process and work through my birth trauma, I'm realizing that perhaps there was more I wanted. It's made a quote from "Untamed" by Glennon Doyle come to mind. She says,

“We look at our lives and wonder: Wasn’t it all supposed to be more beautiful than this? We quickly silence that question, telling ourselves to be grateful, hiding our discontent — even from ourselves.”

I'm finding that this is how I feel about most of the last 6 months. For the second time now, pregnancy looked very different than how I hoped or thought it would. A huge hope I had when I first found out we were pregnant this time around was that I might actually get to go into labor versus being put into labor. Of course, once our complications started at 27+4 and I was told to mentally prepare for an early delivery, I already started to come to terms with the fact that that probably wasn't going to happen. And boy was I right.

From 27+4 to 30+4 I had weekly monitoring. And because of absent flow at that 30+4 appointment, I got to have a weekend stay in the MFM unit of the hospital. Then from 31+1 to 34+1 I had twice weekly monitoring with a brief visit to L&D for extra monitoring at 33+1. From my count, I think we ended up having 15 ultrasounds and 17 non-stress tests. While there was excitement about our growing baby throughout pregnancy, the prevailing feelings were stress and anxiety. It was hard to enjoy my third trimester because before every appointment I was terrified that I was going to end up back in the hospital for an extended stay or an unexpected early delivery. It was exhausting - physically, mentally, and emotionally.    

The amount of time I spent on monitors or crying in my OB office is astounding

The irony is that, despite how much time and energy I spent worrying about these things, at the appointment which led to Ellie's delivery, I was still caught off guard. As soon as I saw our ultrasound, I knew that we would be having a baby that day and it's like time stopped. I think I went into shock and couldn't really process everything that was happening. Since Ellie's birth, it has taken me months to work through and begin to process the whole experience. And this is very much an ongoing journey.

It is so hard when what I wanted to be one of the best days of my life turned out to be one of the worst. Very little of it hit me in the moment, but as time has passed I have realized how traumatic the whole experience ended up being. As I've looked back on the day, it felt like slowly being abandoned as I faced one of the most terrifying moments of my life. First we left my OB where we were known and loved - then because Abby was with us, I had to go back to labor and delivery alone to start the whole intake process. Some of the early conversations about course of action happened without Shane there with me to talk it out. One of the elements that made the reality of a c-section so hard was that, because of timing, it would have to be at 8:00pm, >6 hours since I had last eaten. This was extra hard because it meant my OB's shift would end and a doctor from the partnering practice would come on-call. It feels silly, but this continues to be the part of the whole experience that feels most difficult. 

In the depths of my heart, I wish my doctor could've been the one to deliver Ellie. After all, she was the one I saw when we first found out about our growth restriction and elevated dopplers. She was the doctor that had me get steroid shots to help Ellie's lungs develop. So, it only felt right that she was the doctor on call when absent flow necessitated Ellie's early arrival. After all we went through, it just doesn't feel fair that she couldn't be the one to bring Ellie into the world. And, from my point of view, I feel like having her be the one doing the c-section would've made it all less traumatic. 

I remember being so scared they were going to yell at me for lightly kissing Ellie's head before she got taken to the NICU

I'm sure the doctor who delivered Ellie was great - she got her here safely. But she didn't know me and our family and all we had been through. She didn't know the stressful journey that brought us to that night. I didn't feel like I was Sarah in the OR - I didn't feel like anyone really saw me much at all. Instead, I just felt like a body on a table that had a baby that needed to be removed. And even as I say that sentence, it feels icky. That is not the feeling I wanted to have when Ellie was born. I wanted to feel like I gave birth to her instead of feeling like she was simply taken or removed. I wanted to get to hold Ellie and have her laid on my chest instead of laying alone on an OR table wondering how she was doing. I wanted to feel like her mom instead of the one who couldn't grow her well enough to protect her from everything happening. I wanted to keep her safe instead of feeling like I failed her. Wasn't it all supposed to be more beautiful than this?

Seeing this picture literally hurts my heart - I can't imagine how scary it must've been to go from the warmth of the womb to laying in a big, bright, scary hospital bed

I wish I had a nice bow I could tie on this whole experience. I wish it could be neat and tidy so that I could pack the memory away and move on. But that hasn't been the case for me. Healing for me is looking like honoring the paradox of it all. Yes, I am deeply and profoundly grateful that Ellie is here and happy and healthy and safe. I have read enough medical journals at this point to know how differently our story could've ended without the care and attention of my doctors. I am so unbelievably in love with Ellie and seeing Abby become a big sister has been a gift. AND, my birth experience was really hard and traumatic in ways I'm still struggling to accept. The gratitude and grief can coexist. So, I keep reminding myself that even though I feel profoundly grateful, I don't have to hide my discontent. I can love our precious, incredible family and still wonder if parts of this story were supposed to be more beautiful than this. The story has enough space for both of these things to be true. It doesn't have to be an either/or - it can (and must) be a both/and.

Not how I imagined the first time really getting to touch Ellie would look