The Big One

This story is a hard one to tell. I’m trying to look past the anxiety of wondering what people will think, and the mere fact that once written it is out there for the world. I think that sometimes we get the most out of healing when we finally put our trauma into words and share it with other people.

So, here we go.

It was my final doctors appointment when I was pregnant with her, that my doctor decided I would be induced that very next morning. Other than being excited and nervous and genuinely ready to have this baby, I wanted nothing more than one final date night with my husband as just the two of us.

We get home, and he leaves.

He made it back home in time for us to basically catch the leftovers at the Olive Garden. You know, the end portions of the meals where the pasta isn’t as warm or al dente, and the salad is extra soggy.

After getting home from dinner, I prepared our bags for the hospital, and he left again.

We get to the hospital that next morning bright and early, I changed in to a gown, laid in the hospital bed, and the induction process began.

I think I wasn't quite done with my breakfast before he left again.

Thank the good Lord for my mother because she was the one who walked the halls with me to try and get my labor going, and she held my hand as the doctor broke my water which caused the most excruciating pain I’ve had, to date.

He missed my water breaking, but he did make it back in time for the start of my contractions.

Fast forward to the birth of our beautiful and healthy baby girl. He cut the cord, he was present for my 1 hour of skin-to-skin as best as he could be at that time, and he was there to get me settled in to my postpartum room with our new daughter, and then..

He left… again.

Our baby was born around three in the morning, and it was close to 7 AM that I found myself alone in a room with a brand new baby, legs still numb from my epidural, and crawling to the bathroom so that I could try to pee for the first time since giving birth. Most mothers understand that first walk, or for me, crawl, to the bathroom. It is a doozey. I did this all on my own because he wasn’t there.

When he did come back, he brought me a delicous iced coffee and a hot breakfast sandwich to help cover the sting of his absence.

Even in those moments, where it was pretty apparent that he had a problem, try explaining that or telling that to a brand new mother who just gave birth for the very first time. He did not leave me again after those first few times, but even when his physical presence was there, his emotional and mental presence was unfamilair to me.

I remember thinking to myself, "I can’t believe he’s actually allowing me to do all of these things for myself," but now I feel empowered to know that I had the opportunity to have that experience because I know that I can, I did, and I always will be able to do things independently for myself and for my children if deemed necessary. I can do hard things.

Once we arrived home from the hospital, we both took one of the biggest naps of our lives as my mom watched our sweet girl. The first night was a blur, and when we woke up that next morning, he left again.

I could go on and on about how frequently he was not home during that period of our life, and how many times I wondered where he might be or what he was doing. Even if he was only gone for 30 minutes, it truly felt like hours.

I have many many triggers, but one of them is filling up a formula container. Reason for that is, I remember one night asking him to watch the baby for me so that I could prepare her bottles for that night and next morning. Because it was inconveniencing him at that time, as he was about to leave again, he said to me “you know, I could really fill up those containers a lot faster than you." Yet he knew so little about how many ounces she was even drinking let alone how many scoops to put in each spot. To this day, my heart races a little bit every time I have to fill up a formula container, even after all this time.

It is a wild journey to go through, that experience of having your first child and yet watching your husband disappear right before your eyes. You fall in love for years, you get married, you very intentionally and out of love conceive your first baby, and then when your spouse seems so distant that you feel lonely in the moment of bringing life in to this world, that dream holds a vacancy that I still cannot explain.

Having kids was always a dream of ours, and there was never any part of me that doubted his ability to be a good father and a supporting husband when those moments came for us. I was very distraught when nothing in my life was going the way I always thought it would go. The uncondtional love I felt for our baby girl as she lay on my chest, was also mixed with worry and concern for how long it was going to just be me and her. Whatever the world had in store for us, I was ready for it.

As I type this, my heart feels heavy and I feel chilled under a nice warm blanket. I am unsure, scared, and a little hesitant to even submit this story for publication, and then I think about where we are now.

The relationship between him and C now, is unlike any other. Lucky for him, she was too young to bear the burden that I had to carry at that time. She knows nothing but his love, his humor, his patience, and his protection. She has all the good memories, and none of the bad. They continue to have a stronger relationship each and every day. He is the fun one, the goofy one, the one who has enough strength to take her to Slinky Action Zone by himself and genuinely enjoy playing all the games with her all while winning her enough tickets to get whatever prize she wants. He is not the anxious one. He is not quick tempered. He is the comfy one. He finds all the best movies. He makes the best breakfasts. He sees the world through a childs eyes, instead of complicating it like I do. His heart is humbled and light. He is a warrior. He is an inspiration to anyone seeking strength in moments of deep weakness. He is the good cop. He eases our minds, he is "Daddy."

He can get her to eat, and laugh out all of her cries. He dances with her, and you never once hear him complain about the heaviness of fatherhood. I do believe she is his reason, and really what more could I want. They’re love for one another now, and his consistency & goodness as a father outweighs all of the hardships we faced during her first year of life. My husband had two choices, and that was to either continue down a dark path of destruction and broken promises to himself, or his family. If nothing else, you must give credit to the fact that he chose his family.

I tell this story for anyone who is facing similar circumstances as I did, but also for any mama who might be facing parenthood alone in anyway.

I tell it for the mamas who feel silenced by the heaviness of life especially if their partner is absent sometimes or all the time.

I’m screaming it for the new moms alone in a hospital bed, right now, just hours after they gave birth to their baby.

I’m screaming it for the new moms who can’t see past the end of the day when they are trying to breast-feed, pump, change diapers, “sleep when the baby sleeps," and fill the formula containers for next day.

I know this is where I’m supposed to tell you that you aren’t alone, but I know that feeling is very real and very heavy. This might be where I should offer words of encouragment and say that things will get better, but... I can't say that for everyone.

I do know, that no matter how loud the bell of life can be, the love between a mother and child will never be silenced. A mother in mourning of a loss of any sort, will fight like hell so that her children don't have to do the same. A mother will literally give her entire self so that not once piece of her babys heart gets broken. We will protect, we will fight, we will never give up.

Now, as of 2021, we have another sweet baby girl, and her birth story is much different. He never left my side, and even when I asked him to go to the cafe for me at the hospital, he hesitated. He cried this time, when she was born. He held my hand through the pain. He counted from 1 to 10 while I pushed and labored. He did not skip a beat. My dream, it came true without any missing pieces. I had those precious moments with my beloved husband who was finally well enough to appreciate the miracle of life and the hard work our bodies go through to make it all happen. I was nurtured by him and cared for thouroughly. He carried me through my post-partum depression and anxiety, and he still does even now. He kept my water bottle full while G cluster fed. He was always just so appreciative to simply be in all of those moments with me this time. He never left.

To my mommas:

I see you. I am here for you. You can do all of the hard things, and you can still cry sometimes too. Be a voice for you babies, and never dull their shine even when you can't find yours. Resist the urge to give up. Keep fighting. Even if your ending isn't like mine, even if your path is different, it doesn't mean you have to stop moving forward. Chase your dream, no matter what that looks like for you. The heaviness may always remain, but you will find the peaks to the valleys. Pray on it, wish for it, but never stop moving.