One of my favorite bloggers, Charity, at The Wounded Dove, started a hashtag a while back that is PERFECT for mom’s everywhere…..#GoodEnoughMom. It’s a remember that we don’t have to be PERFECT mom’s, we just need to be good enough. That sure does take the pressure off!! If the hashtag wasn’t enough, Charity started a link up on her blog to encourage other moms to tell their mom stories, the good, the bad and the ugly…..without fear of judgement from others. To be totally candid about our experiences. And so, Confessions of a #GoodEnoughMom Tuesdays was born!!
I decided that this is a link up I can totally stand behind because you know what? I am not a perfect mom, I am not even a great mom, BUT my kids are happy, healthy, smart as hell and they love me more than I ever imagined they could. So I MUST be a #GoodEnoughMom after all.
This is the first week of the confessions and the theme is “The Beginning, so this is my beginning story of how I became a mom. It was very hard to write and these are words I haven’t spoken in years, but here they are….raw and vulnerable!!
That is until March 1999. I was late. Nothing new for me. I decided to get a test done anyways, just to be safe.
It was confirmed, I was pregnant.
I had to tell Eric; he was scared. Then we had to tell my parents, whom we lived with. That was scarier.
Even though I knew we were too young and not ready, the thought of this beautiful little baby growing inside me gave me a feeling I had never had before.
Eric was terrified, he was not ready, he kept saying we shouldn’t be having a baby yet.
We weren’t even married.
Eventually, we both accepted what was happening and started to embrace it. Me more than him as he doesn’t show emotion well.
A month after we found out, when I was about 16 weeks along, we went out to dinner with my parents. I still remember the restaurant……Rock Bottom…….enter ominous music here.
Dinner was okay, I tried buffalo meat for the first time and LOVED it but nothing about that night SO FAR seemed out of the ordinary.
After dinner, we did what we were told NEVER to do in the first trimester. We went to Babies R Us to look at baby clothes.
I was determined to have a little girl and was falling in love with all the cute little ruffled dresses. Drooling over all that pink.
Then it happened.
That cramp I was so familiar with. The one that always warned me my period was starting. I went to the bathroom and my fear was confirmed, I was bleeding. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to send my paranoid mind to the ER. My parents dropped us off, then brought my car to the hospital and Eric and I sat there for 8 hours.
I was finally examined.
We waited some more. Eric left to grab something to eat, he was starving. I was too nervous to eat. He got back, JUST IN TIME. The doctor said in a matter of fact way that I has a missed miscarriage.
What the hell is a missed miscarriage.
He never answered me, simply said I was no longer pregnant.
Eric was clenching his fists. He was angry. Not at the doctor, although he had NO beside manner. He was angry that we lost the baby. He couldn’t understand how one minute he was going to be a daddy and the next he wasn’t.
I was numb.
I hadn’t cried yet.
The next day, I went to my OB and they explained to me that although my body was carrying the pregnancy and everything seemed fine, the fetus had died around 4 weeks. Long before I even found out I was pregnant in the first place.
Sometimes I wish I had never found out until the miscarriage. No time to fall in love. No time to get excited. But I did.
After the miscarriage, Eric and I grew apart fast. We barely talked. We were barely functioning. We still tried to have some semblance of a relationship although if truth be told, all aspects were being forced. Including the intimacy. We were literally on the verge of splitting up for good.
Then I was late yet again.
I couldn’t go through that again, but now that I had felt was impending motherhood felt like, I wanted more than anything to be pregnant.
I wanted more than anything to hold my baby in my arms.
Another test and it was confirmed. I was pregnant again. It had only been 3 months since the miscarriage, but I was pregnant again. Eric was scared, this time it wasn’t because he was scared to be a daddy, he was scared he wouldn’t be.
First thing the next day, back at the OB, I wanted to know that everything was fine.
I wanted to know if the baby was alive.
She was…..okay, we didn’t know for sure she was in fact a she, but I felt it deep in my heart.
During the next 9 months, we had 7 ultra sounds, my OB wanted to be sure the baby was healthy.
When I was 7 months pregnant, Eric and I finally got married.
A month later, I started bleeding again.
NO this can’t happen again, I can’t lose this baby after I saw her and heard her heartbeat and felt her kick. No, this can’t be right.
Went to the ER again.
She was fine. Doctor said it just happens sometimes. I was fine and still pregnant.
My OB was worried though and put me on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. I was happy to oblige if it meant protecting my angel.
That was a boring month.
April 6, 2000, exactly 1 month after the miscarriage, my water broke, I was in labor. We get to the hospital, they start to prep me. The nurse gets a strange look on her face and hurries away. The doctor comes in and examines me and says we have a problem.
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
Apparently, my sweet, angelic angel was breech. As in BUTT down breech. As in she was gonna come into the word MOONING the doctors. That was an omen.
The doctor said I had 2 choices, vaginal birth and risk the umbilical cord, wrapping around her neck and choking her, OR cesarean.
Risk my baby die or deal with an annoying scar for the rest of my life? I didn’t have to even think about it.
They prepped me for surgery and a few hours later, my baby was born. It was a girl. A beautiful 6lb 7oz, 21 inches baby girl.
My angel, my baby girl, she was perfect in every way. She was born 1 year to the day after the miscarriage. I feel that she was destined to be mine but wasn’t ready to be born yet, that’s why I had the miscarriage….to make way for my girl.
That’s how I have managed to deal with the loss of the child I never had.
Head on over to The Wounded Dove and read other #GoodEnoughMom stories!! Or heck, write your own and link up!!