Free shipping on all orders over $75🎄

When I left the hospital with my first child, a brochure was tucked into my take-home folder about a mother-baby group that met every Tuesday and Thursday morning. Around week four of maternity leave, unsure what to expect, I decided to give it a whirl.

It was a godsend.

Here were other un-showered, lactating, sleep-deprived moms who actually wanted to talk about diaper brands and cracked nipples. We compared daycare research and strategies to ease our return to the workforce; or contemplated the choice to become stay-at-home parents. We traded valuable information about pacifiers, vaccinations and feeding schedules, while divulging our fears and hopes about our brand new, sometimes-crushing responsibilities.

It was a warm and fuzzy combination of playgroup and counseling session, where diaper changing, nursing and screaming infants were not only accepted, they were the norm.

When I was pregnant with kid #2, I couldn’t wait to revisit this nest of knowledge and acceptance.

Instead, after one session, I pledged never to return.

Just 48 hours after his birth, my youngest got very ill due to a congenital digestive disease we’d never heard of. On his third day of life, he required emergency surgery to allow his body to function. The NICU stay, his doctor visits and prep for a second procedure consumed most of my maternity leave.

But there were a few weeks where I could potentially attend baby group again. Where I could find that warmth and acceptance I had basked in two years before. So I went.

It hadn’t really changed. Un-showered moms still discussed diaper brands and cracked nipples. They worried about vaccinations and nap schedules. And I couldn’t stomach it.

They hadn’t changed, but, undeniably, I had. The stuff they wanted to talk about was hard for me to even listen to.

I longed to discuss the nightmare of changing a colostomy bag over a still-healing belly button and concerns that any daycare would accept my son with his special needs. I needed to vent about medical billing mishaps and fears we’d reach our son’s health insurance maximum before his second birthday.

Suddenly, changing a diaper in this circle-of-moms was nothing but awkward. No one expects you to loosen the valve on a colostomy bag to release your child’s gas, then check for leaks and squeeze excrement from the bag into a diaper. I myself would have been alarmed to witness this a few months earlier.

Before this one and only mother-baby session, I’d never changed my youngest’s diaper in front of anyone but immediate family or medical staff. Hadn’t I realized it would be uncomfortable here, in front of a group of strangers? Naively, I hadn’t. I just expected it to be cozy and inviting like it was the first time around.

I caught myself gritting my teeth as these doe-eyed young women voiced worries about their children not eating enough, even though they were within the doctor-recommended amounts. In the hospital, I had fed my son with a dropper like a baby bird because his body couldn’t handle a full half-ounce at a time. They were stressing over sleep schedules and pacifiers while I was on guard for life-threatening infections and serious blockages.

Of course I knew my son wasn’t a healthy baby, that he had unique challenges, but in this moment it hit me that I wasn’t a normal mom anymore, either.

Please don’t get me wrong. I am not in any way trying to label or even imply those mothers were petty, narrow-minded or judgey. They were none of these. And with my firstborn, I had been just like them, with my precious healthy baby and my everyday-mom concerns. They had the luxury of being blissfully normal. Never before did I relish what a luxury that had been.

Throughout the 60 minutes, I was civil and polite. I even mentioned my son’s surgery. But as the conversations bubbled around me, I felt a growing urge to scream, “You’re worrying over nothing!”

I couldn’t wait to get out of there and never return.

Today, with nine years of perspective, I know when and how to speak up (tactfully), how to find common ground, and when to keep quiet and let it roll off my back. I’ve gotten better at explaining to parents and teachers that even though my child looks perfectly healthy on the outside, there’s a lot happening in the plumbing you can’t see. There are medications and treatments and more surgeries, and a lot of my mommy friends still don’t know the half of what we deal with. But that mother-baby group gave me the first taste.

When I got home that fated day, I found a Facebook group for my son’s rare disease, Hirschsprung Disease. In no time at all, my concerns and fears were met with others who got it. Eventually, it led to opportunities for me to email and chat on the phone with other actual Hirschsprung moms, as well as an adult woman who has lived a full life with the same diagnosis. We shared valuable information about medications, therapies, treatments and surgeries, as well as colostomy bags and early indicators of infection. The online group even introduced me to ILEX, a magical barrier paste that saved my son’s skin post-surgery.

This! This was precisely the support I needed. (And still need, though today I’m more often on the side of giving advice than getting it.)

Mother-baby groups can be beautiful, welcoming places for new moms. But—for me, at least—it wasn’t helpful when dealing with the shock, grief and complicated care that comes with having a child who has special needs. In fact, it was just an hour-long reminder of how different my child was from his peers, and how much I’d changed in becoming his mother.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Jacqueline Miller

When not worrying about her teenagers, Jacqueline Miller is writing about them. Her recent work appears in Parents.com, HuffPost and The Christian Science Monitor. Follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

A C-Section Mom Simply Needs You to Hear Her Story

In: Baby, Motherhood
Newborn baby crying in doctor's hands

As an expecting mother, I was told all about the sleepless nights. People made sure to give their opinion on whether I should bottle feed, breastfeed, or exclusively pump. I was told which swaddle to buy, which sound machine worked best, and when to introduce a pacifier. They told me about sleep training but that it really didn’t matter because I wouldn’t get any sleep anyway. Whenever I would mention how scared I was to give birth, I’d always get the same response: oh. honey, don’t worry, your body will know what to do. I remember listening to calming meditations...

Keep Reading

Feed Them—and Other Ways To Help NICU Parents

In: Baby, Motherhood
Parents holding hands of premature baby in NICU

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about our reality as NICU parents to a healthy, brilliant NICU graduate. Our child was born very prematurely and spent weeks in the NICU so he could grow and stabilize. My first experience as a mother of a baby was shattered in so many ways. Trauma still lingers, but I am so grateful for all I have learned from our time beside our little baby in his isolette bed. One thing I learned was that some people who really want to help support NICU parents really don’t know how they can. Here are some...

Keep Reading

From Baby to Boy

In: Baby, Motherhood, Toddler
Toddler boy asleep with legs tucked under his belly

The sweet snuggles and sighs are slowly making way for more crawling climbing and exploring each day. And just when I think my baby is gone, you snuggle into my chest, convincing me I’m wrong. I watch as you excitedly chase after your sis and giggle as you share with me your slobbery kiss. RELATED: They Tell You To Hold the Baby, But No One Warns You How Fast He Grows Daytime hours bring playful adventures as I watch my baby leave, but then a sleeping bum curled in the air makes me believe that these cherished baby moments haven’t...

Keep Reading

Having Two Under Two Was the Best Decision I Ever Made

In: Baby, Motherhood, Toddler
Toddler and newborn lying next to each other on a bed

My baby was 14 months old when I found out I was pregnant with baby number two. He had just learned how to walk, still requiring me to walk behind him holding both of his hands above his head so he wouldn’t topple over. In other words, my baby was still very much a baby, and I couldn’t believe I’d be adding another baby to the mix. Excited, but mostly terrified, I researched and read more articles than I can count on what it’s like to be a parent of two under two. These articles more often than not use...

Keep Reading

I Thought Failure to Thrive Meant I Was Failing

In: Baby, Motherhood
Baby drinking bottle, color photo

Failure. That’s all I read. It’s all I saw. It was the only thing I could focus on. I’m sure the doctor said it at some point during the appointment, but it wasn’t until it was right there staring at me in black and white that it clicked . . . “failure to thrive.” I was officially failing my daughter. A couple of years down the road, I now realize how irrational and far from the truth that was, but at the time, it was all I could focus on. I wish more than anything that they had a better,...

Keep Reading

You’re Becoming a Big Sister, But You’ll Always Be My Baby

In: Baby, Kids, Motherhood
Pregnant woman with young daughter, color photo

The anticipation of welcoming a new baby into the world is an exciting and joyous time for our family. From the moment we found out we were expecting to just about every day since, the love and excitement only continue to grow. However, amidst all the preparations for the new addition, I cannot help but have mixed emotions as I look back at old videos and pictures of my firstborn, my first princess, my Phoebe—for she will always hold a special place in my heart. As the anticipation grows, my heart swells with a mix of emotions knowing we are...

Keep Reading

New Mama, It Might Not Be Okay Now but It Will Be

In: Baby, Motherhood
New baby looking at camera, black and white image

It was 2:30 in the morning, I was sitting on the bed with tears streaming down my face, my 7-week-old son crying in my arms. Everything hurt—my engorged breasts, my cracked and bleeding nipples, my back where I had taken two epidurals. It hurt to sit, not only from birth but from the stitches, and I was tired. “It’s okay,” my husband said, rubbing my back in small conciliatory circles, but it wasn’t okay. When they placed my son in my arms for the first time I cried tears of joy, made promises for the future, bolstered by the love I...

Keep Reading

“Please Help Mommy to Be Patient, and the Baby to Stay Alive in Her Tummy.”

In: Baby, Loss, Motherhood
Toddler with hand on mother's pregnant belly

“Please help Mommy to be patient, and the baby to stay alive in her tummy.” It was my little girl’s daily prayer during my pregnancy. That prayer for patience—it stung a bit even though I had told her she could pray that I would be patient. It wasn’t necessarily that she or her sisters were testing my limits, but this pregnancy rage had gotten to be a real thing. If there is one thing motherhood has taught me, it’s that I can’t do it on my own. I need the help of my Heavenly Father, and I need others. I...

Keep Reading

I Know I’m Done, but I’ll Always Want Another Baby

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother touches nose to baby's smiling face, close up color photo

I was sorting clothes into tubs to donate, consign, or keep for my 1-year-old, and I came across a newborn outfit amongst a bunch of bigger kid clothes. I had gotten rid of all of my 1-year-old son’s newborn and infant things last year, but he still seems small and baby-like to me, compared to my 5-year-old. But I’m telling you, when I held up that teeny-tiny outfit, my heart broke. It looked too small to be real. To fit anything other than a doll. But, it did. My older son wore it on his first Christmas. I know I’m...

Keep Reading

I Lost You Just as I Started Loving You

In: Baby, Loss, Motherhood
first trimester ultrasound image of baby

I didn’t know I was already losing you just as I was starting to love you. I didn’t know while I was so excited and hopeful for all the things to come, you were already leaving my body. And my heart. I didn’t know something like this could happen in what feels like both an instant and an eternity. That it would feel like it was just yesterday we saw those two pink lines and yet here we are, eight weeks later, without even an ultrasound picture to hold. I didn’t know how angry it would make me that life...

Keep Reading