The Fourth Trimester & Beyond
TRIGGER WARNING: BIRTH STORY, NICU TIME, AND PPD/A TALK.
This month's blog took a pretty big turn from what I had already begun preparing, which is “What to expect during your maternity session” however this month has been weighing heavy on my heart to chat about a more serious matter. I think that a lot of moms have silently struggled with their changing bodies, mental health, and the brand new person that they are responsible for. Today, I want to chat about what happens after a baby is born, through my experience with my first born. I want moms (and dads) that book with me to know that I am a human, and a mother as well as a photographer. I capture these moments for families BECAUSE of my experiences in this road of parenthood. So, let’s chat.
Did anyone else follow Laura Clery’s vlog all the way through her second pregnancy? Her platform has changed so much in the last 4 years about her comedy, and then her journey through motherhood. Well, she gave birth to her beautiful baby girl, Penelope. It was an intense labor, of course completely unlike her last (every birth is so different, right?). Then, her videos began shifting less on her birth story and how on cloud nine she was, but more about this thing called the ‘Fourth Trimester”. She talked about the happiness mixed in with the depression and exhaustion that she was experiencing. “How could this time be so beautiful yet so traumatic at the same time?” she asked. It got me thinking, “wow, we really DON’T talk about this period after baby is born often enough.” You see, my birth stories were completely different, however the recovery after my first born I had a not so fun experience: Postpartum Depression.
I was induced at 37 weeks with my son due to Gestational Hypertension. I thought that this was a wonderful idea. I get to PLAN the time my baby comes, I get to be in control I told myself (did any other moms chuckle at that?). Of course, the biggest shock that motherhood introduced was that my expectations were not necessarily how things would go, or will go anytime in the future.
Matthew was born 48 hours later, after an extremely long labor and an infection for both of us at 10pm exactly. I had no idea when babies come out that they are the temperature of your insides, or that they would be so HOT. They plopped him on my chest and I was immediately overwhelmed with emotion, hot tears that were the temperature of my baby, and a wave of relief. That wave quickly turned into a crash of anxiety as they said “he is a little blue, we are just going to check him for a minute” as I am getting stitched from a 2nd degree tear. All I could see was a flash of nurses, a quick phone call, then more nurses. There must have been 8, maybe 9 in the room along with the NICU cart. “What’s wrong with him?” I manage to squeak out but I don’t think anyone heard me. I turn to my husband and look at his panicked eyes as he was trying to stay strong for us, and overcome the wave of nausea and lightheadedness from the birth. It was a whirlwind and the last thing I remember in that moment was me telling my husband, “GO WITH HIM, do not worry about me, just GO.” and the cart with my brand new baby boy left with my husband following quickly.
Matthew, one day old.
It was then silent. I sat in the room with one or two nurses as they puttered around and brought in the contraption that all of the epidural mamas know all too well. They wanted me to go straight to the bathroom which took most of what strength I had left. “He will be fine honey, he will probably be back tonight. His sats were just a little low” one of the older L&D nurses whispered as I lowered myself onto the toilet. I sat there for what felt like an hour just staring off into space with my feet on the cold floor. I was in shock, now that I look back and process the all to vivid memory of childbirth. Once I got to my recovery room, my husband met me again. He explained that he had been admitted into the NICU with a cpap machine and they were going to run some further tests. I was numb. Hubby got us McDonalds, the one thing I requested before labor that I wanted as my ‘first meal as a mom’. I could barely chew as I felt this wash of nothingness over me.
I got one of the nurses to wheel me down to the third floor where I got to see my son's face for the first time in person. My perfect angel was hooked up to about 5 different machines that later I would recognize each chime as something he needed. I could barely see into the heated box that he laid in from my wheelchair. I don’t remember the rest of the night from this point, other than the nurse coming in every few hours to have me pump colostrum into syringes to be delivered to my son below. My nipples had already begun to crack and sting as I hooked up to the hospital grade pump. It was a sped up rest of the night/into day when my doctor told me that she was going to keep me an additional day so I could be with my son, rounds of nurses and lactation consultants and more of the doctor. I yearned to hold my baby, yet instead I held the whining pump parts to try and be of use to this stranger a floor below me.
I was released 2 days after Matthew’s birth. I would then stay in the brown recliner chair with my husband for the next 7 days. I would watch as the nurses did CARES, which is an every 3 hour round to change diapers, check and feed babies through the tube, and check vital signs. We played chess, I pumped, I stared into space, I pumped, I watched the monitor for his oxygen sat, I pumped for what felt like hours and hours. I wasn’t producing enough, so we introduced formula. On the 3rd day I held my son for the first time since his birth, then his daddy held him for the first time ever. I ate lunch with other NICU moms who all looked as zombified and depressed as me. I had visitors all day long from family and church members who started setting up meal trains, bringing snacks and gifts for us. Really, I wish I could go into extreme detail of each of those 12 days in the hospital but for those who are still with me on this story, thank you. I haven’t gotten to really dive into this as much as I am right now. Let’s move on.
Matthew was released with no restrictions on the 9th day after his birth. He had successfully weaned off of oxygen and the cpap machine and was nursing/bottle feeding well. I remember feeling my first bout of mom guilt that I wasn’t entitled to feeling this depression, this numbness when there were babies that have been here for 90 days already. I mustered up my courage to move forward as Chase and I took our boy home, and we broke out of that place with nervous but excited hopes for the future.
Over the next few months, I developed PPD/A. The two week ‘baby blues’ kept getting worse as I had nightmares that my baby would stop breathing in the middle of the night and if I slept then it would be my fault that he died. I began wondering if I was a good enough mother because I couldn’t produce the liquid gold that my baby deserved. I felt like I had been robbed of the first time mom experience. My fourth trimester was a time of major healing, grieving, and learning to love the person in the mirror. There was extra weight, a flabby tummy, stretch marks, and bags under my eyes. I had poop and vomit on my shirt and my hair could house a small bird family. I began to retract from a lot of friends and just stay home or with my mother in law to keep that baby safe from the germs, the hands, the public. However, as I went through another labor only 2 years later I came to understand something: This experience of the fourth trimester is very similar for all births. It is a time of change, healing, processing, and adapting to this new way of life.
And then, just like that..POOF. Here we are almost 4 years later in what feels like a blink of an eye. There are less doctor appointments and less anxiety….wait scratch that. There are different anxieties than when he was a newborn. Now instead of how fragile he is, it's replaced with a dread of “Am I feeding him right, does he sleep enough, did I yell too much today”. I guess I started going on a ramble with this blog to create the buildup for what my entire point is: Our children grow, they thrive, and we are enough.
The trimesters don’t stop once the baby is born. I want to bring awareness that parenthood is the hardest job in the world. We all go through this gigantic change throughout parenthood and no matter how your baby gets here, how smooth or rough the labor is, no matter if breast or formula feeding, YOUR baby is perfect, and YOU are doing fantastic, mama. Do not feel like your mental heath state is a sign of a weakness. Instead, embrace it and seek help if you find that you need it.I did, and I am all the more better of a woman and a parent because of it. Here are a few links to some helpful sites that go more into depth if you feel like you or a loved one are struggling. I am also always open if anyone needs a listening ear. Let’s keep the discussion growing so no parent has to go through PPD/A alone. Leave a comment about your birth story, or what you are dealing with prenatal.
Thanks guys,
Karli
https://www.womenshealth.gov/mental-health/mental-health-conditions/postpartum-depression
https://www.postpartum.net/
https://www.healthline.com/health/depression/how-to-deal-with-postpartum-depression
