At 34w my father had a heart episode and required to undergo a quadruple bypass surgery 1,500mi away. Happy to report everything went well and he’s now enjoying his time with his spunky grandson.
At 36w our entire house flooded. We were relocated to a temporary furnished apartment for the next 3.5mo while our entire house, with exception to the master bathroom was gutted and renovated.
At 39w6d we welcomed our baby boy into this world via C-section with the umbilical cord so tight around his neck that he was whisked off to the NICU for the first 2hrs of his life, leaving me with the scary as hell unknown of whether he was okay or not. 4 days later we were discharged from the hospital.
I had suppressed the emotions as a result of my logical reaction to pick up the pieces, be thankful that nothing worse had happened, and look forward to raising a tiny human.
Yet through all of that I wasn’t “fine” and in fact, I was a wreck of emotions. I just didn’t know it...errr...maybe I just didn’t want to admit it.
Couple the unresolved trauma with the unrealistic, movie-like self-imposed expectations for what it meant to be a good, not even great, mom with all the emotions nobody told me I may experience after birth...was, well...a recipe for disaster.
I was so focused on being and doing everything PERFECT and “proving” to others that I was capable and worthy of being a mom, searching for all the answers outside of myself that I didn’t know up from down. The emotions practically paralyzed me.
Crippled with anxiety.
Riddled with fear.
Retreating from loved ones.
Thinking my family would be better without me.
Feeling unworthy of my marriage, my son and my family and friends.
Feeling ashamed and embarrassed of my thoughts.
Questioning why I was feeling this way when nobody else was (or so I thought).
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