I haven’t been big into writing for some time now. I felt I didn’t have anything worthy of documenting. In the beginning of this pregnancy, I wanted to keep it super private. Turns out I need to stop attempting to make myself something I am not, which is a private person. I admire those who are private, but it’s not me, and that’s quite alright.
Today I’ve decided to start doing a weekly journal of my second pregnancy. If you hate it, well thank you for visiting and have a lovely day. I’ve found it really helpful to read stories from other moms that include the raw unfiltered details of pregnancy, birth, and post-partum life, so hopefully my story can be of benefit to someone out there.
Before I dive into sharing this current pregnancy, here’s a little background into my first one including birth and post-partum. I probably should have documented this all in a separate blog, but as a first time mom, I was just happy when I remembered to brush my teeth and apply deodorant.
I was completely miserable for the vast majority of my 1st pregnancy. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. I had terrible all day sickness, I was sad about legitimately everything, and my mood swings were so bad that I don’t even remember half of the shit my friends tell me I said or did during that time.
Towards the end, I felt my anxiety and rage getting intense, and at the last minute my blood pressure started creeping up. I went to the hospital and they suggested inducing me. I was 1cm dilated at this point, and I just knew it wasn’t time. I needed to go home, rest for a couple hours, pack my things, and say bye to my dogs. Yes you read that right. I discharged myself against medical advice. I am not recommending you do that, in fact I’d suggest you don’t do that. But my goodness, it may have been luck, or it may have been that I knew my body and made a damn good choice.
I went home and laid down on the couch with my 3 giant pitbull mixes, and I had my mom do reflexology on my feet for a few hours; bless that woman. I packed a bag and called my midwife and said I thought it was time to head back to the hospital. My blood pressure had gone down slightly, and I was now 3cm dilated. At this point I was augmented with Pitocin.
I know I am not the majority here, but Pitocin was an absolute breeze. My contractions were mild and felt like the baby moving, or mild gas. I used yogic breath, the giant yoga ball, and pretty much just napped. I think at one point I even answered the phone to do a business call for my studio. Lol, I wont be taking calls this time around.
Towards the end my mom and my midwife suggested I should be checked again. I insisted I was fine. My mother insisted I ought to let her check me. I listened to my mom and come to find out, I was beyond 10cm. It was time to push. My husband kept informing me that the baby “has so much hair!” I asked him to get me a mirror so I could see. That lasted about 4 seconds before I told him to get that away from me. I pushed for about 45 minutes and then they said, “reach down and get your baby.” I had no idea I had pushed her out. I think the adrenaline just came over and I could have pushed out a bowling bowl and not known it. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt, it sucked, but it was doable.
The post-partum part was rough, but a positive is I had a great breastfeeding journey and an ample supply. My coccyx took a beating during birth and I could barely get off the couch without hoisting myself up or having someone help me for a solid 2 weeks. However, on week 3 I was back to teaching yoga, so in hindsight I guess it wasn’t THAT bad. I drank way too much alcohol post-partum, my kid nursed all day and night and barely slept for 8 months, and my marriage nearly crumbled. I’m so glad it didn’t because I now know my husband is a saint. My post-partum anxiety was awful, and I should have been more proactive about it.
About 2 years after having my daughter, we gave away all our baby stuff. We were one and done, and my mind was firmly made up about that. My husband not so much, he would have another if I wanted to. After a year of ups and downs, too much drinking on my part, and a few poor life choices mixed in there, I decided it was time to get my act together. I stopped drinking and as you know if you have read this blog, it was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Total game changer. My husband and I now have a great relationship with good communication (turns out I wasn’t as good at doing that as I thought!) I decided if I could make it a solid year without drinking and was in a consistently good place mental health wise, I’d consider having another baby. I didn’t tell my husband because I felt this was something I had to hold myself accountable for.
A little bit shy of a year two of my close friends announced they were pregnant. I then told my husband it was time to have another. I had sex every single day despite the advice of my highly educated nurse friend who told me that wasn’t necessary. Can I say that here? Is that TMI? I assume if you’re old enough to be reading this, you’re old enough to know how babies are made. On month 2 I was pregnant, and thank God, because sex is not quite as fun (for the women anyways) when you’re doing it for this specific result. And so it began… pregnancy #2…
Featured image by Laurenhowland.com