Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Mothers pride.

I began to write this blog as I was compelled to do so by my ever changing and complex emotions on motherhood and what it means? What it means to me, my friends/associates and what it means to others, people who are mothers or fathers (as I'm aware sex in today's society does not determine who the main caregiver is) and people who aren't mothers/fathers and what this means to them.

Birth and breastfeeding.


When I discovered I was going to be a mother, I had no idea what my own expectations of this would be. I was captured in a naive 'Motherhood bubble.' I began to imagine what it could mean and as every day passed and I felt this little life inside me grow, I became excited by what the prospect of motherhood could be. I imagined a perfect little world where my angelic offspring and I would walk through meadows together, reading great literature singing Beatles songs and basking in the sunlight. At one with peace and harmony. I had it nailed on. I was going to be an Earth Mother,  growing my own vegetables and writing poetry about my child. A complete natural. I would take it all in my stride, never stress and let my child be free to be themselves. Never putting any of my unrealistic expectations on their 'carefree' shoulders. 

This bubble was dented slightly at the buildup to, and the birth. After a seventy seven hour labour, in which I'd consumed every drug going. I was completely exhausted. I seriously  lost my shit on more than one occasion, the medical staff rushed me in for an emergency C section. I know I'm a drama queen at times but this was unimaginably terrifying. I was petrified, hardly the Earth Mother Warrior I'd envisaged. My body had failed me, failed me at the first hurdle. The disappointment was completely over-whelming. I remember lying on the surgeons bed, tears rolling down my cheeks, shaking, fearful for, not only my life but the life of my unborn child too. After the surgery I was a little relieved that the decision was taken out of my hands. I remember Gaz placing Dylan on my right shoulder, tears welling.
"He's here Shell, it's Dylan." 
It honestly could have been anyone's baby. I was happy he was alive but I never felt the instant rush of intense love that everyone says you will feel the minute you lay your eyes on your birthed child. My immediate thought was Sssssssshhhhittttt!

Right, with the birth done and 'seemingly' dusted, I was so ready to embrace my Earth Mother. Dylan was here and he had an identity. The first 24 hours were a blur. I have almost no recollection of the drifting in and out of consciousness as the drugs wore off and the adrenalin subsided. I remember seeing the concerned faces as family and friends sat by my bedside, as they took photos and gave presents. I vividly remember the abject terror spread across my nieces face when she visited me, I must have looked like death. I did, only worse. (I'm not telling you this for sympathy, every woman who has a child will experience similar maybe worse. I'm telling you this so matter of factly because this is an everyday occurrence and after months of therapy (I kid you not) I can turn around and say I will have another baby at some point in the future (God-willing.) I am however, under no illusions about the myth that surrounds natural birth. I've got nothing to prove now, no medals to be won. Think I'll opt for an elective C section next time In an attempt to mentally prepare myself... If that's even possible.

The second day, I met with positivity, I'll just place the child tenderly on my breast and ...oh WTF -this is horrific! The pain was excruciating, this wasn't natural. This was anything but natural. This was torture. Dylan breastfed from 8pm until 3am in the morning. I literally didn't move. He couldn't latch on properly or I couldn't do the impossible nipple   manoeuvre thing, that no-one ever spoke to me about. What the hell is this? I remember standing over the sink in the bathroom as blood and milk dripped onto it, crying. I spent the reminder of my days in the hospital hooked up to an electrical breast pump -bearing more resemblance to a cow than I care to admit to. Dylan lost 9 percent of his body weight. One more percent and We'd have to stay in hospital until he'd gained the weight and the breast feeding stabilised.  I wasn't producing enough milk. What? So my body was failing me again? Why was this happening to me? Having a child and keeping them alive is basic human nature-right? I freaked out and bought formula milk, ok new plan... I'd combine feed until we got out of hospital and went home where I'd feel so much more settled and able to breast feed. Great plan. 

Alas it was not meant to be. I was in and out of hospital with back pains/dizzy and sick spells. I caught an infection (I can't tell if this was due to the fact my waters had broken 3 days before I went into labour and they told me I'd wee'd myself or whether it was due to the 17 million internal examinations I underwent) either way, I had to have intravenous antibiotics and continue orally upon my release. I had a very real fear that they would take Dylan from me if he wasn't thriving. Looking back, probably due to the lack of sleep, I developed post natal anxiety. (Every time I drifted off to sleep, I'd shoot up and think he'd stopped breathing. I thought if I slept, he'd die). Any rational thought went completely out of the window. I was a startled new mother. How anyone has a child in their teenage years I'll never know. I was nearly twenty eight but I felt about four years old. Completely out of every single comfort zone and totally over-whelmed by fear. Where were these maternal instincts that everyone spoke about? I just wanted to run away. I breastfeed for some weeks after that, never exclusively. I always combination fed. 

I never thought I wouldn't breastfeed and this did and still causes me a ridiculous amount of guilt. People assume you're lazy, have a low pain threshold or worse still just simply do not love your child enough to put their needs ahead of your own. This is painful to hear. I would dare say most mothers put their child's needs ahead of their own. The guilt I place on my own shoulders is only re-enforced by the society we live in.  
Constant reports of breastfed babies having better health benefits, intellect and even emotional happiness. I'm not claiming these studies aren't valid, I'm saying stop slating mothers who can't breastfeed. The majority don't choose not to, they can't. If they choose not to this is ultimately their choice and I'll bet there's a valid reason, rather than branding them as 'uncaring, selfish and impatient' mothers spare a thought for what they've been through and will continue to go through for the rest of their lives. It's likely to be hell on earth.
Mothers should stand together, United. I embrace breastfeeding and I will try to breastfeed again but I will not dwell on it and beat myself up if I can't. I completely disagree when people take offence to the sight of it. It's a child feeding, it is in no way sexual. If you're offended by this and you're linking it to sexuality, you're the one with the issue not the breastfeeding mum.


So after failing the two very basic necessities of my previous perception of motherhood, I began to embrace my new distorted version of motherhood. Okay natural birth and breastfeeding = fail but there was so much more left to experience and so much more to blog about.

2 comments:

  1. Great blog, I wish I'd have read this about 6 weeks ago! I also had an emergency c section, infection, and no milk, Jessica lost almost 20% of her birth weight and we did have to go back into hospital for a couple of days. So no breastfeeding here, not through lack of trying. It's the pressure by society and midwives that kept me trying so long, at the detriment of my little girl! Look forward to the next blog! xx

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    1. Thank you Rach.
      Apparently there's only a really small percentage of c section mamma's who manage to BF.
      They say the scar to 6 weeks to heal but the actual scars take much longer!! Thank you for the comment and thank you for sharing pictures of your wonderfully beautiful daughter. Keep them coming xx

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