My postpartum experience and reason number 100 why I value this work
It came to me last night that whenever I have spoken about my postpartum experience with Blue, it starts from my mum doing the salt baths, and bringing over chicken stock for my recovery. I speak about it from that point, with fondness and a sense of nurturing and warmth. This point in time, is about 2 weeks after she was born, and 3 days after her death. In the immediate aftermath of Blue’s birth, amidst the chaos of her not breathing, I was dressed by a paramedic, put into a wheelchair and taken into an ambulance. My heart was racing and I was taken to a separate area where I was waiting to see if my baby was alive or not.
I was wheeled around, moved rooms about 3 times I think, to then be taken to a room where I received stitches. The midwifes kept apologising for moving me around and they finally put me in a room. I went to see Blue for the first time since she was born, and she was tubed up and I noticed her breathing tube was sellotaped to her lips quite roughly. We were told that she was going to be transferred to another NICU and whether I wanted to ride in the ambulance with her alone, as my husband couldn’t join us. I didn’t feel strong enough to do that alone so we said we follow the ambulance and get there before she does. Leaving the hospital was chaotic. I was again up and about, from meeting room to bed.
It was only that night, when we were given a room on the NICU ward, that it really landed what had happened. It dawned on me that Blue wasn’t alive, and I don’t think she was here. But the interventions meant she was brought back and perhaps she was wasn’t supposed to stay.
The next 5 days, I was bleeding, my milk came in so my breasts felt rock hard. I was emotional and I felt totally forgotten. I was eating canteen food for most days and my mum brought me some bits too. But we had no clothes as the hospital bag was still in the car at home since we were transferred by ambulance. Neither of us wanted to leave Blue, so we went to Sainsburys and bought clothes from there. I remember asking my parents to help bring clothes, and I think they didn’t think too much about it, grabbed a handful from my underwear drawer and brought over a thong…. It showed me how much you forget what its like in the postpartum. It also reaffirmed my core belief that I cant rely on anyone which is a tough place to be in.
I remember just feeling utterly helpless, let down and lost. I had to force my feelings down, and hold it together whilst my world crumbled. I felt like a complete after thought. The postpartum bleeding was new to me, the body ache, the swelling, everything. I was ruining hospital towels and the staff weren’t there to take care of me as I wasn’t a patient. I totally blanked out this experience as it was so hurtful and so painful.
When I went to India and my cousin was newly postpartum herself, I was jealous and also awestruck of the care she received. I wanted it. It was exactly what I needed, the touch, the warmth, the space to rest.
Although I wasn’t taken care of in the immediate postpartum, and felt forgotten. My friends did show up, and its because of those acts of kindness that really brought me back. My story is of resilience, but it took me being in the gutter with my mental health before I sought help, and the help came in spades.
From getting therapy, to connecting and speaking to other mums who had similar experiences, to having my friends and family around. I am here, living in abundance and I am in a place where I can pour out to others.
