On July 21, 2016 I gave birth to my Rainbow Baby Jaxon.
He has been amazing in every sense of the word. I was terrified to say the least, to go into another c-section. For weeks my anxiety had been building up and my mind kept thinking of all the things that were going to go wrong and how painful all of it was going to be. The day of surgery did nothing to quell these worries when we were four hours behind schedule.
Surgery was not simple in the least due to me having Asherman’s Syndrome. I felt the air in the OR change from serene to panic as my doctors whispered among themselves. Thankfully, my husband was right by my side to tell me everything would be ok and to keep me calm. At 5:40 pm Jax was officially taking his first breath and his first scream and what consumed me was an elation I can’t really put into words.
Recovery occurred much quicker than I anticipated. All I wanted to do was hold my little guy, stare at him, count his fingers and toes and revel in the joy that after so much loss and hurt I had my happily ever after baby.
During the duration of my hospital stay, I felt the normal wave of tears and frustrations that came with breastfeeding. However, having been here before and well aware of the toll it could take, I was prepared with a plan B. I tiptoed around my emotions for days, afraid if I breathed the wrong way the depression would come.
Once we got home and settled in with him, reality began to hit. I had another baby, another life to care for. I replayed my parenting journey over and over, looking back at my daughter and my son’s birth, counting all the ways I’d messed up and promising myself not to repeat those same mistakes. And I held my breath some more. Afraid…afraid that if I let myself cry, it would mean postpartum depression was returning.
Eventually, I let myself cry. I needed to. It wasn’t a sad cry though. It was a healing cry. A deep cleansing cry. An I can breathe easy now cry, a “you’ve done the hard part” cry. A joyful, thankful cry. And I picked my little guy up, snuggled him close and smelled his newborn smell. I prayed quietly and said many, many thanks for the gift of life.
It’s exactly 17 days since his arrival. So far, the postpartum monster is at bay. I began my medication around 34 weeks of pregnancy so that they’d be in my system by birth. So far so good. I have moments when I wonder if the depression will come; but for the moment, it’s all ok.
I know the possibility still exists, but like the mantra I live by, I’m just taking it one day at a time.