I’ve debated on this post for a while but I’ve decided that I’d show the hard parts of the aftermath of giving birth, and the ultimate sacrifice that mothers make from day one.
Kevin snapped this of me. This was two days after I gave birth to Layla. Eating my “nice meal” provided by the hospital. An overcooked steak and sides. I was in new territory. Learning to breastfeed this little human being I just brought into the world. Wearing these big mesh panties, still sporting a pregnant belly. No one told me your belly doesn’t go down immediately. No one told me I’d be bleeding out.
At one point, I think Kevin was at a loss. I realized that when I was being held by him in the hospital shower and I was just crying uncontrollably. It’s all a blur but I do remember saying “she’s not safe inside of me anymore” and that was a really hard thing to work through.
I was also in so much pain. No one tells you that typically with a “quick delivery” comes a bad rip. I ripped all the way up and down, and also side to side. The weeks following I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t use the bathroom. I wore these big Depends diapers. I never thought I would be normal again. Kevin had to help me do EVERYTHING from pee, to walk up stairs.
You let go of all shame as you walk around your house in diapers and ask your significant other to spray warm water on your rip while you pee to avoid that burn.
You spend tireless hours latching your baby and feeding your baby to establish and keep up your milk supply because you want to breast feed so. damn. bad.
You remain patient through leaps, growth spurts, and cluster feeding.