Life With Brynne: My Love Line

The C-section was not planned. Being told you are having a major surgery is scary, but it was the best option for delivering my baby alive and healthy. I didn't question it for a second. I saw her heart rate numbers sky rocket and I wanted her out ASAP. 
 

I remember after my C-section I read something about moms feeling "disappointed" or "inadequate" after. They felt like they didn't have the "full experience" and some women feel that they aren't as strong or they didn't do as well as other mothers. I didn't experience this feeling at all. For me, the goal was to have a healthy baby. My sweet girl was in distress, she needed to come out as quickly as possible to ensure her safety. 
 

The only thing I was sad about throughout the entire experience was that I couldn't hold her first and I was separated from her for a couple hours. This really did hurt my heart. I wanted that immediate skin to skin contact so bad. I wanted that moment. I never got it and that did hurt my heart. When I finally did see my baby, she had an IV in and her little tiny hand and her wrist was all wrapped up to keep it in. I felt a little guilty that my body had an infection that caused her to need an IV. But to feel guilty about having a C-section for getting my girl out safely? No, not me. I was just thrilled to have her. So happy to hold her. In awe by her beauty. I did not feel like any less of a mother. I don't feel any less strong than others... I mean... I had my organs out on a table, a shitload of stitches, and was up and walking the next day (and not easily or without excruciating pain)... I would say that's pretty strong. 
 

The first time I got to see my girl. The hole in my heart sealing up.

It was hard to watch my husband do everything for the first days in the hospital because I couldn't get up fast enough to help, but it was so beautiful. I watched him from my hospital bed. He would scoop her up and sit on the couch and just stare at her. He would talk to her quietly and kiss her little head. If she made any little sounds he would immediately spring up and check on her. He brought her over to me as often as I wanted and needed. 
 

 

Being in the hospital is the easy part. You have constant help. As much as I didn't want to take my eyes off my girl, I did let the nurses take her to the nursery at night. I do not regret this, I highly suggest it. Originally I said there was no way anyone was taking my baby away from me, but I knew the nurses would take good care of my girl and that I would see her every 1.5-2 hours to feed anyway. It worked out well. I was able to get some much needed rest. The nurses were wonderful.

I was tired, but really happy. I was in pain, my body hurt, but it was so worth it. It was time to go home and that was exciting and scary.  Really, the first night home was the hardest. It was nothing like I expected. No one warned me. I spent the entire night on the couch staring at her in her Rock and Play while crying because I was too tired to stay awake, but to scared to close my eyes. Even just moving to get her out of her Rock and Play to feed her was painful. I was prescribed pain pills, but I tried not to take them. I remember I couldn't wait for daylight. I couldn't wait for the first night to be over. I knew my husband would be able to help a little and I knew my mom would be over at some point.
 

My husband was only home with us for one day. I was terrified to wake up and be alone. Now what? What if I can't get up fast enough? What if something happens? My mom came over a few hours after he left, we were fine. I was tired, I cried a lot because I was so tired. I would only nap briefly and only if someone was there to watch her. Even if she was sleeping. I was so fearful of something happening to her. I was so happy to have her and the thought of that being taken away was always on my mind. It is really a terrible feeling to be so overjoyed and completely petrified at the same time. Even now, weeks and months later, I still have a fear at night.

My recovery from the C-section was not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. A couple weeks of pain, nothing crazy. No, I couldn't do everything I wanted and I couldn't lift more than her weight for weeks. The hardest part was not being able to drive for 4 weeks. I felt a bit trapped. I was always on the go while pregnant and now I was confined to my house unless someone came to pick me up. Brandon was at work.

Below is a picture of what my incision looks like. It is three months later and still a little tender, but it doesn't hurt or anything. I find myself having trouble calling it a scar. The word scar has negative connotations. There is nothing negative about this line that remains on my lower belly. This "scar" is not a scar at all. This line is through which my pride and joy entered this world. This line is more of a personal souvenir of the best day of my life. This line will be with me forever and I love it. This is my love line.