Under the Knife

In processing this whole experience I realize that it is not the recovery of the surgery that is so hard, it was the experience of the surgery itself that has left quite the impact with me.
Last night I lay in bed for hours with flash backs of this recent event, with tangled intermittent memories of Judes birth experience. When I found out I was pregnant for the second time one of the hardest parts for me was that I knew I still needed to process my labour and c-section with Jude. In fact I was so overcome with emotion about it that I broke down in the middle of the library with a good a friend of mine. While our children explored and played among the books I cried and was swept up in the helpless feelings I remembered. Helplessness and Sacrifice are two very integral parts of parenting I have learned from my first day on this journey.
When we went to see the specialist the Thursday before my surgery, he did offer me another choice. A pill. A chemical. That would terminate the pregnancy no matter where it was residing. I was told that the pregnancy had an extremely small chance of being viable even if they happened to find it in my uterus. I just knew in my heart I could not do it, even if there was the smallest chance in the world, it was still a chance. I knew that once again I could choose to be a parent to this life by choosing sacrifice and helplessness. I only had known a month with this wee being and yet here I was again facing my greatest fear with complicated trauma.
Labouring with Jude I went through every emotion but the most poignant was fear and feeling more dis-empowered then I had ever felt in my life. So helpless, soo soo helpless. A prisoner to a body that (I thought) was betraying me. Totally defeated. As they wheeled me into the OR I cognitively did not know I was having a baby anymore.
Needless to say all of these emotions returned with a vengence a week ago. Two of my biggest fears were the IV and the catheter. Maybe some of you have had many of these and think I'm a wimp, I kinda do too. But the truth is I was terrified. I am not good with needles to begin with, but when they were preparing me for surgery with Jude I had been in labour for 12 hours and while inserting the IV my veins burst 3 times. They finally had to get a nurse who specialized in giving infants needles to come in and do mine, and then I was still bruised for a week afterwards. The catheter. Oh this was a turning point in my labour. I thought they had inserted the catheter wrong because I was covered in fluid. As they were putting in the catheter my water broke. It was so uncomfortable sitting in that wheelchair, in intense labour, with that plastic hose stuck up me. I could not stop thinking about these two things the day before this surgery.
This time those went better and I have new horrors to recall. While I am thankful in some ways for having been completely put under this time, as I am thankful for my sedated awake state with Jude, it is what happened after the gas mask that haunts me. Laying in that OR room with tears running down my face for 20min did not serve me well in this regard. I listened to the students count their instruments, and starred at the massive tv screen. The nurse placed the the stirups on my bed, and had me undo my robe and pull it out so the dr. could easily unveil me... This alone triggers my body to memories of sexual trauma.
As I lay awake last night I went over, and over the events in my head. All the parts that happened while I was asleep I plot out in sucession. What an odd feeling it is for your jaw to hurt the next day and not remember why. To feel your insides swish from side to side and wonder what was done. To see the swell in your belly and imagine it blown up with gas. And worst of all to imagine your still naked body spread out like a corpse under blazing bright lights. I shudder at that thought.
I realize this procedure was necessary, that as I bled I was dying a slow death, and immediate measures needed to be taken. I am thankful to be well, to have more time to be a wife, a sister, a friend, and a mom. AND this procedure was invasive and scary with new impacts to heal from. I feel both parts. I am letting myself feel both. Traumatized and Thankful. Broken and Mended.

Good Grief....

I know I haven't blogged in forever. Mostly because our life is so busy now that there really is barely anytime for me to check email. Recently though, I have come into quite a bit of time on my hands....

Life is now standing still for a little while in the Braun-Kauffman home. I am understanding the health of depression for grief right now in a new way. The slowing down of mind, and body to heal and mend and grow. My tears permit me to go to the deep place of my soul where eventually newness will arise from. Futile tears flow as my body sits still, and my womb aches for the life that was so close.

Here's our story:

It began a month ago. I had wine with dinner that night and was over a week late for my period. My body was feeling different but I was still nursing and had not felt normal since before Jude. So as a measure of caution I went to the dr. the next day to confirm "negative" to a pregnancy test, and have a guilt free summer of wine. As I sat in that dr.'s office that morning my stomach began to turn as they made me "wait till the dr. came in" and one nurse said to the other nurse, "it's like that commercial, "one in four woman will misread a pregnancy test." Inside I was shocked, "how do you misread a neg. test" I thought. "A neg. test has NO line to misread". The dr. came in and indeed confirmed that I had a faintly positive pregnancy test which just meant I was really early in my prenancy. My first reaction was anger (oh I felt guilt about that one). "How did this happen when we were so careful," "I just started such an amazing job," "I wanted more time with Jude." Those first two weeks were filled with so much emotion at adjusting to such an unplanned pregnancy. Ben was able to adjust much more quickly and get excited. He was talking to the baby and planning for it, while allowing me to go through my mish mash of emotion.

I didn't tell everyone right away like I did with Jude. I was slightly embarrassed and felt like a teenager with an unplanned pregnancy. After a heart felt talk with one of my dearest friends I decided that I didn't want this experience to pass me by, and that I would choose to "lean into" this pregnancy. So as an action to this decision I began to tell people and finally worked up the courage to tell work. (I'll have to do a separate blog about work). It went extremely well telling all three of my jobs and I was finally feeling like I could fully embrace this pregnancy.

The next day I stood up from a staff meeting and was bleeding.... Knowing that bleeding in pregnancy has been fine with many of my friends I didn't panic but went to the dr. immediately. He assured me there was a good chance everything was fine because I hadn't had any cramping and sent me off for an ultrasound. Looking forward to seeing my baby I was shocked when they told me there was NO baby and I had miscarried already. I knew in my heart I was still pregnant and argued with the technician. Ben met me in the parking lot of the hospital and the two of us just cried, but we tried to hope that they just weren't seeing the baby.

The whole next week was a rollercoaster. I pretty much had to cancel work and was sent for a series of blood tests and internal ultrasounds. All the while no baby was located on an ultrasound but my blood tests continued to come back positive and even on the rise, as if I still had a growing embryo. The Dr.'s were most concerned about an ectopic (abnormal) pregnancy and told me repeatedly if I had any increase of blood or pain to go straight to the emerge. In the meantime my bleeding had stopped and I had no pain. I tried to hope they were just missing the baby but I knew something was wrong.

Finally last Thursday they sent us to a specialist. He told us right away that he was worried about the fatality of an ectopic and that he wanted to do a laproscopic surgery the next day to check things out. I was so opposed to the idea of surgery that I had him do another internal ultrasound in his office, where again he found nothing. He told us that he would only interfere with the pregnancy if it was misplaced and otherwise would not touch my uterus if that's where it was. This is what I knew going into surgery....

That night I was scared as I knew ectopic's are fatal because he assured me there is no rhyme or reason to when a tube can burst. I was all of a sudden scared I didn't have much more time. I went into surgery terrified (with nurses that NEED to take a course on grief!). When I came out I was crying and kept asking what happened, no one would tell me and I kept insisting on knowing. They took me to Ben earlier then was planned because I was clearly confused and upset. Ben told me right away that my tube had already been burst and was hemoraging and they had to take the whole tube. I cried hard gut wreching tears as Ben held me...

This is where I am now, in and out of this deep dark place where shitty things happen and there's no reason. I have to believe that God cries with me. I have to believe that my 7 week old embryo that got stuck meant something to him. It meant something to me.

There is pain from this surgery, and it's so hard not to be able to hold Jude. But the hardest part is the emptyness, the questions, and the longing. How I was so content with one beautiful boy a month ago, and now I ache for the life that stopped too soon on the journey. For the life we were going to feel move and grow, and meet in Febuary.

Momma knows Best

Wow it's been a long time since I wrote. I think I needed to wrap my head around what privacy needs to look like for me. Anyhow, I had quite the day yesterday.... but it ended well.

Jude is teething something fierce right now. He's not a "normal" baby that slowly gets one tooth he tends to get 4 at a time. I can see where his gums are swollen across his bottom jaw. He's biting everything, and sticking his tongue down there like crazy. I can only conclude that he's in pain from those damn teeth.

Motherhood I'm finding is one of the most helpless states of life. Here you have this perfect little being that you are entirely responsible for (with your partner hopefully), and 95% of the time you have not a clue how to meet there needs. Ok, ok, maybe 95% is a little high but that 50% feels so heightened when you are in the moment. Helplessness is a feeling that often shows up in trauma and often leads to hopelessness and depression if it's not acknowledged. For this reason I name and own my feelings of helplessness everyday. And I cry. Clinically their called tears of futility that move you to adaptation according to Gordon Neufeld. I usually just call them "I don't know what the hell to do anymore!" tears.

So yes, yesterday was rough to say the least. Short naps, cling, cling, clinging to mommy, no eating and loads of whining. I understand on so many levels that this "neediness" is really just about my son's God given need for connection and that mommy is the one who is designed to meet those needs best. However, in the face of helplessness this understanding usually goes to pot, and I can't see past my inability to magically make him well. For some reason yesterday God gave me eyes to see past the fog so I could respond instead from a place I call "momma knows best."

It's been months since Jude has fallen asleep on me for a nap time. I have missed those tender moments soo much. Yesterday, Jude, like usual, woke up prematurely from his afternoon nap. He was crying and miserable and didn't want me to put him down, he kept rubbing his eyes and I knew he was exhausted. Usually in these times I would lay him down in his crib and possibly let him cry for a few minutes at a time while going in periodically to help him soothe. Knowing this method doesn't work really well, I felt in my gut that he needed me more today to help with his sleeping. He wouldn't nurse, and would only settle when I stood up with him, but then he was stimulated and I knew he was soo tired. So.... I sat us down in the rocking chair, I wrapped a blanket around us, I gave him his soother and fuzzy, and I stroked his precious little head. All so peaceful right? Any baby would sleep to that.... No he resisted, he kicked and stood, and sat up and flailed backwards. All the while I kept rocking and patting and assuring him of his tiredness. I miraculously had that ability to hold onto myself and the needs of my son and through much struggle he fell asleep on my chest. Oh what a beautiful moment! I sat with my boy for an hour and half. He was in and out of sleep but each time his struggle lessened a little, and by the end of our cuddle time he was putty in my arms.

I don't often go from this deep place inside but when I do, wow what a wonderful reward. "Momma does know best,"(at this stage of development). I do believe that God has made us with the ability to parent well. When we wade past our own stuff, their is true internal wisdom. We as parents, know what it is to be human, we know what it is to be a child and have needs, and we do know what our children need and surprisingly how to meet those needs.

Privacy

I've been struggling with the idea of privacy lately. I never really thought about it like this before having Jude. Not even being a therapist has driven me to extreme privacy (which I've learned from the hard way over the last few years). Now having a baby, a son, a little person who is his own being, I want to protect him anyway I can. I realize now that being a therapist is entering into another world outside of my family. Some therapists strictly keep these two worlds as separate as possible, doing all they can to not enter into any dual relationships, and barely even mentioning their family to clients. This is their choice and I think partly due to personality. I myself have always been an open book, dangerously transparent at times, at the least extremely vulnerable. My relationships are deep and wide because not much is hidden. I have seen how we grow in relationships and are healed through them. God truely created humanity to BE in relationship with one another, even recent neuroscience is pointing to this truth. This is a large part of my foundation as a therapist and as a mother.

So what does it look like to BE in relationship and protect my son? To be a therapist in my most integral and contruent state of being, and respect the privacy of my family? To share my heart in this blog setting and know that these intimate details do not impact my life alone? I really don't know the answer to these questions. But as with anything, we learn as we wrestle with these thoughts.

I wonder lately.... who is Jude? Is he open and direct like his mommy, or is he internal and content like his daddy? How do I respect the little person he is and is becoming? What choices can I make to empower my little boy in his growth?

So here, and in therapy, and in motherhood, I will be congruent, I will be me. I will pray for protection, that as I choose to engage in these outside worlds that God will grant me wisdom to guard not only my heart and mind but Judes as well.

CELEBRATE!!!

One thing I think we (society) does not do enough of is celebrate. Celebrate our change, our success, celebrate us! When I am working with a client that is clearly moving towards change I often ask them if they can celebrate it. And more times than not the answer is "no," "what do you mean?," or "how would I do that?" We are not taught so much to celebrate ourselves, more to downplay our accomplishments for fear of appearing arrogant. So my question is... can we hold humility and at the sametime fully celebrate us? I think so. It's easier to ask that of my clients though, than to ask it of myself...

So today I choose to celebrate! Celebrate me for persisting, and Jude for trying something new. As I posted earlier we've been working of giving him solids for almost 3 months now, only to be faced with adamant refusal. Yesterday for the first time he willingly opened his mouth to a spoon full of cereal. I was so thrilled and he was quite proud of himself. Today he did it again. Yeah Jude! Yeah mom! I think I'll celebrate with a latte today:)

Sometimes....

Sometimes I cry.... Sometimes, when I put Judes slippers on him I cry. Sometimes, when I kiss his tummy I cry. Sometimes, when I watch him play I cry. I feel a fullness in my stomach that rises into my throat and I stop, and cry. I think "How is it that I get to be your mother?"
Sometimes, I only see the priveledge it is that I able to nurture Jude. And when those moments come I want to stay there. I want to capture them in deep inside of me. Sometimes, I love that ache.

The paradox of parenthood

There are two things I really did not anticipate when I decided to become a mother... Both are basic human needs that I didn't know would be such a challenge. Eating and Sleeping.

Lets start with Eating. Breast feeding... natural right? Well, I was warned that it wouldn't necessarily be easy just because it was natural. But I could've never imagined the pain I would have to endure upon that innocent creation recieving his nutrients. My midwife, doula and doctor all came to look at Jude's latch and examine my nipples after a feed. All said the same thing, "The latch looks good." Then why the hell does it hurt so damn much! The truth is the first 8 weeks were by far the worst, with week two ending in a hysterical crying fit. There was blood everywhere and it ended in a strike of the left breast. I thought I would give up so many times but I just couldn't let myself let go of the one natural gift I could give my newborn son. (I say that because my birth experience was anything but natural and I grieved it). So we persisted and the pain really only ended completely after month 3. Then we fought to introduce the bottle so I could work. Then we fought to introduce formula to give me a break. Now we are fighting to feed him solids.

You should see this boy tighten his lips as we raise the spoon. He used to do the same thing with the soother in the middle of the night when he wanted the breast. "No way in hell am I taking plasitc over flesh!" Perhaps we are experiencing the same message now. "No way in hell am I taking cold fruit over warm milk!" The funny thing is that he loves to suck on a real piece of fruit. But then he will get the tiniest of tiny's piece and gag on it till he vomits. Needless to say we don't really want to give him our fruit that way. So now we are trying those mesh bags with cold fruit and that is working quite well. But baby food forget it!

So that's our challenges with eating now for sleeping - sigh. As a new born we felt quite fortunate for the consecutive hours of sleep we recieved. 5-7 at the begining of the night and then 2-3 after the first feed. This pattern stayed the same for about 4mo and then.... who knows what happened. He began waking every hour to feed. Thinking that this would only last a couple weeks I kept offering him the breast. It lasted more than a few weeks. At month 5 both Ben and I were beyond exhausted. We could barely cope from day to day let alone parent and we NEEDED help. Thankfully we are blessed with courageous friends who willingly braved different nights with Jude so we could repay our sleep debt. After this I stopped breast feeding in the night and we only offered him the bottle through the night. This was also a bit of a fight but eventually he conceded and hunger won over. Then when he started to sleep longer stretches at night his naps shortened to a half hour or less. I thought I would lose my mind. If it's not one thing it's another.

I am slowly learning that this is very true. If it's not one challenge as a parent it's another. The rare moments that there is not a challenge are truely rare. I'm not sure exactly what I thought parenting would be like. Apparently I was very busy romanticing the whole venture. Yet I don't think that was an entirely wrong approach either because the moments when I'm not pulling my hair out in frustration, I'm dancing in a love affair with my son. I know that sounds airy fairy but it's the only way to describe the utter intensity and depth of enjoyment I feel. So while my mind whirls with constant thoughts of life's two basic needs, my heart bursts with a joy only a new love can create.