Post-Partum: My Journey

{ Please note: I have been writing this post for almost a year now, and have finally decided to post it. This is only my journey and that is what I am speaking of. }

Post-partum is no joke. It's pure hell. I went through it. I believe I still in some ways suffer from it and I think in some ways I always will. I surely will never forget it. The feelings. The tears. The emotions. The severe heartache. As hard as this is to talk about and something I have really struggled with, this is my blog, my feelings, my thoughts and ultimately my journey. This is the documentation of my life. No one else. Mine. And what I hope is that I may be able to help someone else in my thoughts and that's what matters to me. I also want this documentation for myself and my girls to always have.

I think for me, there were many parts to post-partum both with my triplets and singleton. There was recovery from a cesarean versus a vaginal birth. There was having multiple micro-preemie babies on breathing machines and not being able to hold them versus having a baby in my room which never left my side. There was the life-changing scary complications and hemorrhaging versus a super easy VBAC. There was leaving the hospital without my flesh and blood versus leaving with a healthy baby. There was coming home to an empty, lonely house versus a house full of big sisters and a newborn to care for. There was waking up each morning without your babies versus having your baby right there next to you. There was the ups and downs of NICU scares. There was my baby almost dying. Over and over. Infections, failed picc lines, blood transfusions, surgeries. There was so much. SO MUCH. SO much pain the first time around. My heart was scared for life.

My time after the delivery of the triplets was so hard. SO HARD. I can't even put into words what I really went through. I just don't have the words, to be honest. Pure pain. Worst pain of my life.  A lot of it, I went through alone. Alone, because mostly of my choice. My husband saw most of it. My parents, some. Me, all of it. And all of it, well, it sucked. I cried. And cried. And cried. All I did was cry. I cried so hard so many days, I almost made myself sick. I wanted my babies so bad. It was the worst feelings in the world. The hardest thing I ever went through. I could literally feel my heart hurting, aching, needing my babies. I wanted to be with them all of the time. Every inch of my body hurt for them. My body needed them. They needed me. I needed them. I craved them. How could I not? I just had lived 32w2d doing everything I could to keep them inside of me and then they are taken from me and I was supposed to just leave. My belly and babies were gone, along with my heart. All I left with walking out of the hospital was the bracelets on my arms with my babies names and numbers on it. I was so thankful for that though. They were healthy and alive and therefore I had a bracelet to prove it. To prove each one of them were mine! But that was the only part of them I took with me. That I was allowed to take with me. I wasn't allowed to take my babies home. I couldn't. And I know I couldn't. But that didn't make it any easier. No way. Not at all.

In the instant you become a mother there are things that are changed inside of you forever. No doubt in my mind. It's a feeling that you can never forget or have replaced. It's not able to be described or understood other than when you become a mother, in however way, you know exactly what I mean. Until then, you think you know what it feels like, but honestly you have no idea at all. I sure thought I knew. I thought I was prepared. And I surely wasn't. It's the most undeniable and real feeling of love that you have ever felt for another human being. I felt this times three. At one instant. My life and everything I thought I knew, changed forever the moment those three babies were born.

And because I have had another baby, I know I felt those feeling times three when my triplets were born. I know it was, with out a doubt, way more intense than with a singleton. I am not saying in any way that I felt less love for Emily, not at all, so please don't twist my words there, but God sent me those "motherly" feelings times three because I gave birth to three babies.

And those feeling were strong. Stronger than I ever imagined they could be. All I wanted was to be with my babies. My flesh. My heart. With them, no matter what. But to be honest, it was two fold. Somewhat hard to understand to some, but being at the hospital and in the NICU was wonderful but it wasn't right. We weren't at home. I wasn't able to be the mom I wanted to be. I had to be strong. I had to put a smile on my face. I had to pretend I was okay. I hated that. Oh, how I hated that. I had to be around other parents. I had to be around other sick babies. I had to listen to other people loose their babies. Their flesh and blood, dying. While I sat there holding mine. No one should have to listen to another mother wale because her baby just died. I still pray for that mother. I hope she has found some peace. I knew when I was in the NICU, that I had to eventually leave. I hated to leave. How do you leave again and again, and again? So going to the hospital to see them was hard because it was one step closer to leaving them again. And again. And again. For months. How horrible is that feeling that I hate to remember. Leaving. Saying goodbye. Every day and every night. Knowing someone else is caring for your baby. Your flesh. Your heart. I cried every single night home as I drove home in the cold dark.

Listening to nurses ramble all the time. The good. The bad. The gossip. Not knowing if your night nurse was the best one possible. Not knowing if your baby is just another baby.  I hated that. I prayed each baby was taken care of as if they were there own flesh. I pray that's how it is. And honestly I don't want to know any different. I hated when I was there and my baby girls cried. I cried right with them because even though I was there at that moment, I wasn't for so many other moments. That was so hard. I hated with everything in me that I couldn't be there at every single moment like a mother should be and I felt bad for that. I felt guilty for that. SO guilty. Guilty that I didn't do enough to carry them longer, to make them not struggle to breath and to live. Like a bad mother. A mother who didn't do enough. What I could have done differently. What I could have done better. And I wanted to be there all of the time to care for them. I was their mother. I was their mommy. They needed their mommy and no one else could replace me.

In complete reality on better days I knew my babies couldn't be home with me. I knew they needed to be in the NICU. I'm not dumb. But it doesn't take away the pain of having to leave them to be cared for by others. It doesn't take away the pain your heart feels and the ache of your deepest soul. The emotions just can't be explain. You completely understand reality but your heart takes over your mind and sometimes it is honestly hard to find the balance between the two.

They say time heals. And, I am so thankful that I can stay at home with my girls each and every day because of it has helped my healing process. Another blessing I have been given. I know I could never, ever leave them with anyone else in the whole world, day in and day out. I'm a HUGE supporter of early childhood development and socialization, and I was determined my children would be in a teaching, loving environment because I would be working the career that I spent six years in school for. But, I am so glad that is not the case though, for now. I couldn't have done it. God had His plan worked out long before I knew. I know I couldn't have. It may seem silly to some, but everyone goes through their own struggles. This would have been a huge struggle of mine.

Even when I go out for an hour or two by myself, I miss them. My heart misses them. Sometimes I want to scream I need to leave this house so badly, but then when I get the chance and I leave for a little, all I want to do is come back home. They are my life. I love them so much. I worry about them so much. SO much it hurts sometimes. I hope that's normal. I don't want to know it's not.

I love going in and watching them sleep. Just me and them, in a dark room. They are so peaceful. So innocent. So precious. Gifts from God. Miracles. Their little selves are made from me and my husband. I still can't believe some days that they are mine! I am so blessed. So beyond blessed. I ask God daily what I did to deserve such blessings as caring for their growing souls. What I did to deserve such precious little souls that call me Mama. I am forever thankful and grateful for His gift.

I realize what happened in the past is in the past. Post-partum is no joke. It's real and it's serious. Thanks to therapy and zoloft, I can say that it's only a scar on my heart and that is it. The memories are there and I need to accept it and leave it there. It is what it is. And although it will haunt me for all of my life, it does not define me. It does not hold me back from being the mother I am supposed to be. I am a better mother because of it. And, I am not ashamed to say that.