My husband just came home from the Jason Mraz movie. He went alone, because we couldn’t find a sitter. He really loves Jason Mraz enough to where our first dance was a relatively unknown song performed by him. While he was gone at the movie, I may or may not have popped Coco on Netflix, gave my son a string cheese and sat him on the couch. I really wanted to work out and I knew this would keep him distracted just long enough for me to do so. Pre-baby me would totally judge present day me, but parents need their sanity and if a quick sweat session is what gets them through the day give that to them. By all means little mama or papa – do it. Or eat a tub of ice cream, have a glass of wine, have friends over, make some bacon. You do you – no judgement here.
So don’t judge me.
Mateo is our little miracle baby. Let me elaborate. Before Mateo, I was pregnant. Unfortunately, a few weeks later on December 22, 2015, I miscarried. And have never cried harder (this has a happy ending, stay with me). December 23rd, Victor and I went to my doctor, who confirmed the miscarriage. He asked me to return after the new year to check in on me. Very long story short, my doctor told me the chances of me getting pregnant any time soon would be 1/10 of 1%. That’s pretty small.
The next week, I was pregnant. This pregnancy would later allow me to hold my beautiful baby boy.
If you are feeling the lost still, if you are not able to hold in your tears, if you’re like me and when your doctor repeats that it is not your fault, that you did not do anything wrong and that makes you feel faint and you turn pale and need water, don’t hold in your feelings. Talk to someone you love and trust. I have found, the more I speak about my miscarriage, the more people open up about their own. Be the voice. If you have no one to speak to, reach out to me. I would love to speak to you and listen. I am and will always be here.
All too often, mothers who miscarry are told how often miscarriages happen, with little more guidance or sympathy. I’ll tell you here mamas – my heart breaks for your loss. This is not your fault. The physical pain will pass but know that you don’t have to carry emotional pain yourself. Even if right now, you feel alone – you’re not. We all have to help one another. It’s not to forget your pain, but to remember that allows the healing to begin. The aching in your chest is proof you will keep going.
Twenty-two hours after my Mexican food induced contractions, I was able to meet Victor Mateo. They laid him on me and immediately he pooped. Yup. On me. Of course, I had no feeling and only when my husband thought I was bleeding did we realize my bundle of joy had literally pooped on me. Just FYI – baby’s first poop looks like black, sticky tar. Have fun imagining that.
The joys of witch hazel pads, coconut oil nipples and hair loss soon followed. Now, 22 months later, my hair is regrown, witch hazel is only used on my face, and my nips have bounced back.
There is hope, y’all.
I feel as though I went on a tangent and had no idea I was going to tell you all about my miscarriage – I guess God wanted someone to hear this story.
Speaking of birthing stories though… is everyone expected to cry after giving birth? My husband did, a lot. I, however; did not. I don’t know if it was deep seeded daddy issues (My father use to say I was his favorite because I never cried. Not the normal type of encouragement for a 10-year-old girl getting stiches on her face, but we rolled with it), or if it was because I’m not exactly motherly. I read all the baby books and what was to be expected to be best for baby. I knew immediate skin to skin contact was important, but when they were giving him to me, my immediate thought was, “he looks like he smells.” Then, he shit on me. I don’t know if this makes me a horrible mother, but it’s the truth.
As a new mother, you experience so many different emotions. I LOVED when people would tell me I looked good, even when I knew they were lying. I would get jealous when other people held Mateo for too long – I missed him , I swear. I knew how important it was that he connected with his father and would make myself encourage Victor to be with him, but I cannot describe the immense joy I felt when my baby wanted me. I love my husband, I love my momma, I love my sisters, friends, relatives, but my baby. Oh my baby. He needs me. What I can expect my future struggle to be is encouraging him to leave. Encouraging Mateo to experience the thrill of life without me holding the reigns. He’s going to leave and fall and love and be hurt and scared and I want all of that for him. Without pain and nervousness, he will not appreciate the love and lust for life. Without cringing, he will not know the true pleasure of coming out on the other side smiling and on top. Of course, it’s still my job to make sure he feels these emotions, but they don’t get the best of him. I have to find that line and try my darndest to stick to it. I’m lucky to have a life partner who will help me. I will learn from my past and will allow that to shape the parent I want to be. And if my son wants to cry, by the grace of God, he will be encourage to feel it all.
Also, yall, take some good pictures of the mom while she is in the hospital. I have absolutely zero, and I’m still bitter. Also, while in the hospital, I ate a taco and half it fell on Mateo’s face. Full disclosure***