motherhood ramblings | part one

i want to preface this by confessing that i almost deleted this post, but decided against it. i'm hoping that one day these words can help another mama. the number one reason i started this blog years ago was to document my life. as the years have gone by, i've realized that our words - our stories - they matter. they have meaning + purpose. the Lord is in the midst of the highest of highs + the lowest of lows. i know that one day, i will look back on this season and see how the Lord took my brokenness + made it beautiful- like only He can do.

for the last four months, i have silently struggled with jackson's birth. it has finally come to the surface this week, and i can no longer continue to dwell + obsess + ignore all that's going on in my head and in my heart. i have prayed about it every day- hoping for peace about all that transpired. i just wish i could find another mama who had a similar experience. maybe to know i'm not alone or maybe just to tell me what i already know: my baby is here + he is fine + i will be too. one day.

i was talking about it with jared last night, and it occurred to me that a lot of what i'm feeling is shame. i desired a medicated-free birth so deeply. and when i asked for the epidural, i felt so weak + embarrassed. (side note: no one will ever convince me that inductions don't make the contractions worse.) of course, shortly after is when i had an emergency c-section. i was so headstrong about no meds that i never prepared myself for any other possibility.

couple these shame-filled feelings with mom-shaming articles that pop up on my facebook feed. it's like a riot in my mind.

there's a small part of me that knows - at the end of the day - these feelings are just that- feelings. they aren't reflective of who i am as a mother. when jackson is older, no one is going to ask him how he arrived in this world. why? because NO ONE REALLY CARES ALL THAT MUCH. and for the select few who like to shame other moms for their births, well... it's best that i don't finish that sentence.

well-meaning words like "but at least you have a healthy baby" are nice, but what i'm learning is that it's okay to grieve the birth i desired. it doesn't make me less of a mama, and it definitely doesn't mean i don't love my son as much as if i'd delivered him differently. all the books + articles will try to convince you that an all-natural birth where the baby is immediately placed on your chest is the only way to bond with your baby. 

i beg to differ. when i finally saw my son for the first time three hours later, i had the sweetest moment of worship with the Lord. all i could say was THANK YOU. they placed my baby in my arms, and in that moment, nothing mattered. 


this is probably one of my most vulnerable posts. if you or someone you know had a similar experience, reach out to me via the comments or email me. we mamas gotta stick together + encourage one another instead of criticizing + comparing every little thing. after all, we are just trying to do what's best for our children. it looks different for everyone, and that's okay.


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