Parenting Baby #1

 We always knew we wanted to have kids. After 6 months of marriage, we became pregnant with our first baby. He was born in August of 2019. The pregnancy started rough, I was working nights at the time and was super nauseous and exhausted all the time. About halfway through the pregnancy I switched back to days and it suited me much better. It was a healthy pregnancy, and I went in very naive to what birth could (and would) be like. I just assumed I'd have a regular birth, pushing a baby out of my body. Things did not go how I thought. There was a cascade of interventions leading to a rather urgent C-Section. I was upset, confused, and felt like a failure. Things were not going my way. I also assumed I'd nurse the baby and it would be a great experience...wrong again. I did not take to nursing well, and neither did the baby. (Looking back, I think there were things we could have done and been successful with nursing, but I would've required a lot of help and support from Lactation professionals.) They sent me home with the baby, and I did the best that I could to figure out how to pump and make milk. Our breastfeeding struggles along with my recovery from the unexpected major surgery left me trailing down to the pit of despair. 

We were so unprepared. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. We loved our baby, that's for sure, but beyond that we were lost. I remember feeling like we would never sleep again, that we were failing him, and each other. In some ways we were failing him and each other. I went through postpartum depression, anxiety, and rage. It was rough on everyone. I felt like I couldn't care for him like he deserved, and I also didn't trust anyone else to care for him. I was questioning and second-guessing myself at every turn. I quit pumping at 3 months postpartum, and things began to improve a little bit. Still, I felt the nagging guilt that he wasn't receiving breastmilk, and that I'd never been able to nurse him.

We realized at about 7 or 8 months that he hadn't rolled over yet. I felt, once again that we were failing him. My thoughts went immediately to "What if he has Autism?" (as if that's the end of the world! It's not, at all, just another tick onto my list of things that weren't going to my plan.) My husband and I went to some counseling sessions, and I was put on medication. My postpartum symptoms subsided, and things were improving. Around this time, God gave me a new heart and drew me to Himself. I think this made the biggest difference.

Then the world shut down as we were beginning to receive Physical Therapy help with the baby. Everything went virtual, my job was considered essential (a house parent at a group home for individuals with disabilities), my husband's job was not essential (retail clothing salesman). Over the next few months our baby was finally making progress with rolling, and sitting, and eventually crawling, and pulling to stand. Pretty soon we were discharged from PT!  

Things were going so well, the baby was sleeping through the night, we were actually enjoying parenting! We decided that the part at the beginning that felt awful with no sleep and lots of crying, didn't last that long and that we wanted to have another. Even through all of the craziness with postpartum and with the late milestones, we knew we wanted another baby. Our second born came just 16 months after the first (though he was a month early. They were expected to be 17 months apart.) His story was wildly different.

Through that first time becoming a parent, it was apparent to me that there's not much in life we can control or plan out, especially when other people are involved. I remember feeling that everything was a reflection on me, that my child's lateness to milestones was a reflection on my parenting abilities. That anything less than typical or perfection was my fault. It was a whirlwind of a time and due to the PPD, I don't actually remember some of it. I wish, my firstborn could experience the level of parenting my third born experienced. Not that I did everything right this third time around, but there was a lot less crying from everyone this past time. I know though, that, those experiences I had with my first two, helped me to be a better parent for my third born. Certainly, becoming a Christian made a difference in how I parent too.