I loved her from the moment I saw her. I laid her on my chest and I wept. She was perfect. More perfect than I ever could have imagined.
I wept tears of joy and relief.
I wept tears of gratitude and sorrow.
I was worn down. Beat up. Exhausted.
I was thankful. Overjoyed. Fulfilled.
Bringing my daughter into the world was the hardest and most rewarding experience. My birth did not go as planned or intended. Everything went wrong, yet it all went so right.
At my 41 week check up, my NST suggested my little babe was showing signs of distress. We were instructed to check in to OB triage for further evaluation. Before we knew it, I was admitted into L&D. I was induced and reached the max dosage of pitocin with very minimal signs of labor. I had very light contractions, but the monitor suggested otherwise. 8 hours had gone by since we were admitted.
“We need to break your water.”
These were the next words that we heard from an on-call doctor whom we’ve never met until he uttered those words.
To read the rest of my story on my blog, please click the link in my bio…
I wish I could share it all here, but it is much too long for an IG caption.
My baby is 16 months old now. It has taken me 16 months to write out my story, from start to finish. I’ve processed it a lot. I’ve done a lot of work around it. I’ve prayed a lot. And I feel overwhelmingly grateful for the peace that rests in my heart around my entire experience. For far too long, I let others determine how I should and shouldn’t feel about my story.
Repost from @momdocpsychology