I have never shared much about Hudson's birth on this blog. I really had not started blogging yet, and there is so much about that season of my life that is personal for my family. It is our story to share with those we love, and I want to be sensitive to Hudson and Will with the stories I share.
Briefly, I went into Hudson's birth with tons of control. I thought I could stay in control as a parent. I had a detailed birth plan, as well as a plan for everything else under the sun. Along with wanting to breastfeed for a year, I knew just how to get my baby to sleep once he was born. I also knew just when to introduce the paci, the bottle, and how to spread out vaccines. To be blunt, I was naive of the whole thing.
While there is nothing wrong with having a plan, I was under the assumption that I could be in control of every bit of his life. It was up to ME.
Hudson had to be induced because I was 10 days late. Induction was not part of my birth plan. I already had to loosen my grip on my agenda. To make matters worse, the nurses at the hospital seem to have a better idea of what Hudson's birth should be like, and I was not confident enough to stand firm to my birth plan. So, I lost more and more control. Hudson was not even born, and I was confused and spiraling out of control.
Hudson's birth was incredibly long. I pushed from noon to close to 5:30, and was seconds from a c-section before he made his arrival. The whole time I was in the hospital the nurses kept pushing me to try formula. I consulted my doctor who advised me not to do that. I was so confused. I thought that you were not supposed to give the baby formula in the hospital. I was under the assumption that formula caused the baby to never ever want to nurse. The nurses never really even explained why they wanted him to have formula either. I couldn't sleep or eat. I was so stressed out and confused. I just wanted to stick to my plan.
We finally left he hospital and headed home. The first night, Hudson only peed once. I continued to nurse him, but the next morning, he looked weak. He had cracked lips and was slow to respond. We rushed him to the hospital to discover he was dehydrated. What? I thought babies could survive for a couple of days before mom's milk fully came in. The doctors assured me that they could, and that only 1 percent of babies dehydrate a day after birth.
The team of doctors admitted him and began a full 3 days of testing and treating him for every possible scenario. I felt terrible. I felt like a complete failure. How on earth did I let a newborn baby dehydrate before my very eyes? Why did I not listen to the nurses and give him formula? I was a mess of emotion and overwhelmed with worry over my newborn son. To make matters worse, I had not slept or really even eaten since the night before he was born...almost 3 days. I was also suffering from some complications with his birth. Complications that I will not go into on the internet. Complications that are uncommon after most births. I was a big mess.
They did a spinal tap, blood work, and began several rounds of antibiotics to cover all of the bases. In addition to starting an IV to pump fluids in his tiny body, they began giving him formula every two hours. One doctor came in and advised me not to nurse him or give him any pumped milk. He feared something may be in my milk that was causing the reaction. Another doctor told me that it would be fine to nurse first, but then to feed him the formula. More confusion. My milk was not even in yet, and I was advised not to nurse! Then, I was advised to nurse! What did they want me to do? To make matters worse, doctors continued to come in with their idea of what might be wrong. Scary stuff was mentioned. Stuff I was not in a place to hear. I spent another night not eating or sleeping, and by the next morning, I was delirious.
We were there three days. I left for one night to try to sleep, but it did not really happen. The doctors never found anything. They came to the conclusion that he was dehydrated from birth. We left with no answers, but we had a healthy son. I left lost and out of control. In 3 days, I had given my son formula and tons of antibotics. His little body was full of stuff that I did not want to be there. To make matters worse, I could not eat or sleep, and therefore, I could not produce the milk to feed him.
Our family and my very best friends were there for me during this transitional time. I have never experienced community and the love of Jesus to this extent. Basically, this loss of control had spiraled me into postpartum depression, and my sweet friends did not leave my side for weeks. They cleaned, they cooked, and they fed by baby.
In the end, I did not end up breastfeeding. The postpartum depression was a main factor. I did not have the emotional strength of build my milk supply. I had to eat. I had to sleep. I had to get better. I was also fearful of nursing. I had let my baby dehydrate. What if that happened again? Do not get me wrong, I was heartbroken. I actually grieved the loss of nursing. It had been my plan before I even had babies. I wanted to nurse. I was excited to nurse. I wanted to be the one that nourished my little newborn. I lost that. One of my very best friends had to come to my house and retrieve all of my nursing supplies because I broke down crying just from looking at them.
All that said, Hudson's birth and first several weeks were tough. It is still hard to look at pictures from those first few weeks. It brings back memories of a scary, uncertain time. I look back now and see how much I learned from that experience.
I learned what true community looks like and how to be that community to others. I had friends that never left my side. They loved me during my messiness. It was ugly. I was not easy to love, but they loved me.
I learned how to lean on Jesus during tough times. It has been awhile since I had experienced a trial in my life. It is the valleys that bring us vision.
I experienced the grief that comes from having a sick newborn baby and am now able to empathize with young parents going through similar situations.
I experienced the pain that comes with not being able to breastfeed in a world that makes you feel like a child abuser if you don't nurse you baby. Now, when a new mom cries on my shoulder because breastfeeding is so hard, I can say, "I know. It is ok. I have been there." She is not alone. I have walked where she walked and can love her though it.
I have experienced a real thing called postpartum depression. I can often spot it. I can be a resource and a shoulder for young moms that are experiencing it.
I also am grateful. Grateful that I have a healthy 3 year old son. It could have been worse. So much worse.
So, that being said, so much of who I am as a mom is because of Hudson's birth story. I am so thankful for the way he arrived on the earth. It was not how I planned it, but God's grand design is far better than my original birth plan.
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