7 weeks postpartum, and I’m starting to feel like myself again.  But not entirely, because I’ll never again be like I once was before having this baby.  I just feel like me, but upgraded to the “Mama” version.  My days are sweet – filled with cuddles and episodes of Gilmore Girls, where showers are few and sleep is sparse but love and joy are overflowing.

I’m still processing the whole “had a c-section” thing…  I definitely feel that the emotional recovery is a lot more difficult than the physical recovery.  (Though, it definitely wasn’t easy physically, either.)

I feel like pregnancy and childbirth are a rite of passage for a woman.  To do what your body was designed to do and carry life – it’s amazing.  Even though I experienced a beautiful pregnancy, I feel like I was cut short, robbed of my rite of passage by having to have my baby cut out of me instead of delivering as nature intended.  (Isn’t it bad enough that I had to wait so long for it to happen in the first place?)  It causes me to question everything.  Did I create this?  Could I have stopped it from happening?  According to my philosophy on life, our thoughts create our reality and everything that happens to us are things that we manifest into life.  So I manifested a c-section?  Why?  Having a c-section changed everything.

It made me question everything about my thinking process and state of being.  Am I doing something wrong to have attracted this experience instead of the beautiful, natural birth I’d imagined (and been visualizing since day one)?  I don’t know…it’s just kind of a mind-f*** to be quite honest (and blunt).   I hear other women’s beautiful birth stories, and I get angry, jealous, and resentful.  Why did this have to happen to me?

It made recovery a lot harder.  I could barely take care of my baby our first night home.  I couldn’t bend down to pick him up, so Dustin had to be constantly bringing him to me.  I ended up sleeping in our glider chair our first week home because I couldn’t sit up on my own to get in and out of our bed.  We moved the bassinet to Dustin’s side of the bed, and he had to bring Cohen to me to nurse when he’d wake in the middle of the night.  Then I’d have to holler at Dustin if his diaper needed changed and when he was ready to lay back down.  Some nights, I moved the bassinet over to my chair just because I couldn’t stand being so far away from him.  I would hear every little noise he made, and I needed to be able to see him.  It’s just not at all how I expected our first nights home to go.  I knew I’d be sore and exhausted and depleted even after delivering vaginally, but it wouldn’t have been like this. I had major abdominal surgery – that’s no small thing!

Thankfully, both sets of parents were here for a week after he was born.  It was actually quite perfect timing, so I’ll give Cohen that. 😉  We were able to spend Christmas with our parents and our boys – it was all really wonderful.  The moms were lifesavers.  It was so nice to have them around.  It was my parents’ first visit to Asheville!  It was so exciting to have them in our home.  I’m so grateful for the time we all had together.  I wish I’d felt a little better while they were all here; I would have loved to show them around town! But it was a special time nonetheless.

I’m learning to be gentle to myself (as my soul-momma, Zann, who went through a similar birth experience suggested).  I try not to blame myself or think that I somehow caused this.  I try not to feel sad for my baby who didn’t go right to his momma’s chest after being born, who didn’t get to peacefully stay with me skin to skin for hours after birth.  It was all so rushed, and even after we got to our room after the birth, I was so exhausted and in so much pain, I couldn’t hold him.  Those moments after birth are so special, so important for imprinting and bonding, and it makes me sad that we missed out on them.

But it’s ok…I’m dealing and healing.  When I question why this had to happen, I remind myself to trust that this is all just part of my story, the amazing story that I’m creating with my life.  Who knows, maybe next time I’ll have a beautiful home VBAC water birth and have that great story to tell.  I just have to trust that it’s all a part of making me the best me I can be.  I’ve blessed this baby and my pregnancy every day since the day we saw that plus sign.  We are always divinely protected.  Things may not have gone how I wanted them to, but all is still well.  The outcome is still the same.  My beautiful baby boy.

Aaaaand queue the flood of baby pics that will most likely follow all baby-related posts from here on out. 😉