Grieving

I've been wanting to sit down and write this post for a few days but haven't had the chance because Miss Lily has been nursing like a fiend and typing with one hand is slightly difficult.  In any event, I know that I wrote in my last post that I was at peace with what happened during Lily's birth.  I was and still am at peace with why it happened.  I had a partial cord prolapse that could have resulted in serious injury or death for Lily.  I did what any sane person would do and agreed to the medical procedure that would result in the best outcome for her.  But I still don't understand why.

I have wanted a natural childbirth my whole life.  It's all I ever wanted and I prepared for it.  I took childbirth classes.  I chose The Midwife's Place (cannot say enough good things about them, by the way!) and a midwife instead of a hospital/OB for my care.  I did everything I could have done to prepare for the birth I desired.  At my last check before the c-section, I was at 6 cm and I was barely uncomfortable with contractions 2 minutes apart and 1 minute long.  Two hours later, right before her heart rate dropped, I finally had to get up and change positions because it was getting to be too much.  I don't know how far along I was, but I'm guessing I was really quickly coming up on transition.  And then everything went to hell in a hand basket.

I am struggling so, so much with what happened and the way that it did.  When they told me I needed a c-section, they pulled Matt away and were getting him scrubbed up so I didn't get to talk to him at all.  All I wanted to do was to see him and they wouldn't let him in the OR.  The last thing I did before I went under general anesthesia was to tell the nurse and the anesthesiologist to tell him I loved him.  The only reason I didn't lose it completely is because the anesthesiologist told me I couldn't cry because she needed a clear airway. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I was terrified that something was going to happen to me and I wouldn't get to say that to him myself.  It was literally my worst fear coming true.

Afterward, I woke up to a room of people who all got to witness the first hour of my daughter's life.  It kills me to know what I missed.  I didn't get to hear her first cry or see them weigh her or measure her or to cut her cord.  I didn't get that amazing flood of oxytocin that was one of my primary reasons for wanting a natural birth in the first place.  I was the last person in the room to find out she was a girl.  It kills me.

I feel like I failed.  Like my body failed.  Like I'm already a terrible mother.

I shouldn't have to have a second-hand account of my daughter's birth.  I should get to tell people all about how it happened and how hearing her cry was the greatest sound I've ever heard and how beautiful natural childbirth can be.  And instead I'm stuck with, "Actually, I was unconscious when she was born and was just coming out of general anesthesia when I saw her for the first time and I barely remember it."

I shouldn't have crazy anxiety about Matt every time he leaves the house.  I can't go 5 minutes without worrying something's happened to him.  (For what it's worth, I did talk to a therapist about this.)

I have cried so many tears and prayed so many Hail Marys and pleaded with God more times this past week than I care to admit.  I don't think I'll ever stop analyzing every moment of my labor and every action I took.  I don't even want to think about what happens three or five or seven years down the road when Lily asks me about her birth.

For now, I just need prayers. For what, exactly, I'm not sure.  I don't think I'll ever understand why, but maybe I can come to terms with the fact that this did happen and it happened for a reason.  Just please keep me in your thoughts and prayers because I need them.  More than I've ever needed them before.