The Story of a Mother

If you google the definition of motherhood the oxford dictionary says “the state of being a mother”. When you then look up the definition of mother it says “a woman in relation to her child or children”. This was clearly not written by a parent let alone a mother. If you were to ask me the definition of motherhood or mother, I would tell you it simply can not be defined in just a few words. Every mother has their own definition from their own story. Being a mother is such a unique experience, it's like every mother is an ingredient in a cake recipe. We are all different and come from different shelves in the pantry but when we come together and combine and share our stories we create a bloody delicious cake, a masterpiece, a village, the ultimate motherhood.  

 

It's 12:30pm on Easter Saturday. I am laid in the recovery room with a tube up my nose. I just had an emergency c-section after 10cm dilated and 3 hours of pushing. My oxygen levels had dropped, I can't feel my legs and the top part of my body is shaking, but not like a polaroid picture. The epidural, although was the best thing ever in the height of labour, the come down was not something I was prepared for, it was not something I could control. Nobody told me about “the shakes”. The nurse told me to suck my thumb to stop them, but this was only a temporary fix. My partner was to the left of me. He was holding our beautiful baby boy, he had just given me him for a cuddle but I couldn't stop shaking, I couldn't control my own body. How was I supposed to control my own baby? It was at this point, I was no longer the person I was yesterday. I'm no longer the Jess that works all the time, I'm no longer the person who puts everything and everyone else a priority. I'm a mother now, my priority is my baby! Am I ready for this? You spend 9 months getting baby ready, but you don't spend any time getting mother ready.  

 

So now I have a beautiful baby boy. I am about to navigate the whole new chapter of caring for this creation we have made, attending to his every need, watching him grow and develop into the most perfect person. But I also need to run the hurdle race of becoming a mother as well. As a first time mum, this is A LOT. Being a mother can be lonely sometimes, not because you are alone - I mean you have a little bear attached to you nearly 18 hours a day. But it feels lonely because at times it feels like no one sees all the things you do or have to do. The hours spent walking round the bedroom at 1am in the morning because your newborn has wind and wont settle. The challenges of being able to breastfeed. The countless second guessing of yourself, is he warm enough? What's that rash? Is he still breathing? He is only cat napping, what am I doing wrong.  

 

But the truth is, you are not doing anything wrong. There is no wrong or right way to be a mother, there is only YOUR WAY. Just another thing to add to the list or things you need to master now that bundle of joy is in your arms. So now we have on our to-do list, caring for a baby, finding your way of being a mother and reidentifying yourself as you are now a new person. Of course the latter is the last on the priority list.  

 

Back to the recovery room. The midwife asks I have got any collected colostrum i brought to hospital with me. Colo - what now? Colostrum the milk that can begin to generate just prior to giving birth, some mums are able to express and store in the days leading up to birth. No, I do not have this. I did not know this was a thing. She begins to fondle my breasts to see what milk she can get… nothing is coming out. I feel a lump in my throat, an emptiness in my body. She then proceeds to give our boy some formula milk. I can't control this, another thing I can't control. This feeling, this emotion it has a name. Mum guilt. Why did I not know about this, why did I not do more research. I had every intention to breastfeed, giving him formula was not even on our radar. Now my baby first feed is formula. I feel myself getting emotional, i'm exhausted and I don't know what to do, the nurse tells us we can not go to the ward for another few hours due to my oxygen levels. I turn over and close my eyes, I can not let my partner or baby see that i'm currently an internal emotional wreck.  

 

My milk didn't come in until Day 9. So the start of my breastfeeding journey was not what everybody told me it would be like. I'm so grateful and happy and just bloody proud of myself for not giving up before this. Trust me, there were times I nearly did. It was the middle of the night and my baby was unsettled, crying. He latched on easily, but he kept coming off. My partner was trying to hand express but nothing was coming out, where was it? Why is this not happening like they said it would. The more my baby cried, the more I cried. My partner looked at me and said “TJ needs you more than he needs your milk”. He was 100% right, but this is not what I planned or pictured. Do I give up? No, I wasn't ready to give up. I had not reached out to every avenue yet. I told my partner, when I get to the point where I can put my hand up and say I have tried my best, that is when I will admit defeat. The next day, I was in the shower and with that, this white liquid gold streamed from my breasts. It was like a little child seeing snow for the first time. I cried. Happy tears and the biggest sigh of relief. The next day we went to see a Lactation Consultant. Telling the LC my experience so far I cried, she told me she wouldn't have expected my milk to come in til at least day 8 after my labour experience, my emergency c section and because i have larger breasts there is more ducts and more volume for the milk to travel. I cried more, where was this information 10 days ago. But also relieved, I had beaten myself up, blaming myself, but as I said before the truth is every mother is a different ingredient, everybody is different. After this, it all came easy. It was after this that I realised breastfeeding is not just important as a nutritional aspect for my baby. But the bond it is creating between a mother and her son. The feelings and emotions I get when breastfeeding is nothing I could ever describe. I remember moments when I would feel frustrated because breastfeeding was an inconvenience to my schedule, but when my baby is latched onto my breast and he looks into my eyes with his baby blues, nothing, not even the moment I proposed to my husband to be will ever compare.  

 

Writing this nearly 4 months on from giving birth and reflecting on my 4 month journey as a mother it occurs to me that the past 4 months have been full of strength, grief, guilt and hope. From the guilt of agreeing to be induced to the strength of not giving up on my breastfeeding journey. But most importantly the past 4 months have been filled with love. The type of love I have never experienced before, the type of love that I have never felt before. The type of love that has changed me and made me a stronger person with a bigger purpose and why. My story of being a mother is ongoing, being a mother never ends, and I know even in 40 years time I will still be learning how to be a mother. Being my little boy's mother is so important, especially in his early life. I am his role model, his rock, his best friend. In 2021, women are more successful, more career focused and therefore more busy leading more stressful hectic lives then that of women 40 years ago. Because of this, more support is needed so we as mothers can be that person in the early stages of our babies lives. I look back at my first 4 months. I created a bond, a love like no other and a supportive environment for my baby to grow and thrive.  

 

I wish I knew then what I know now, I feel a lot of things would have been totally different. If I had to describe motherhood - The most challenging but rewarding accomplishment, the adventure of a lifetime.