#30DaysofHope Day 19- Valerie

Sometime during my 34th week of my first pregnancy, my husband told me I should pack my bag for the hospital. I kind of laughed and told him, "it's way too early for that!" But, I listened to him and packed my bag anyway.

Just a few days later, I woke up in the early hours of Valentine's Day 2016 to go use the bathroom for what was probably the 6th time that night. I went back to bed. I remember feeling what felt like menstrual cramps in my half asleep/half awake state. Then I felt like I had maybe wet the bed a little bit (anyone who has been pregnant knows this struggle - it is always a possibility). I got up to use the restroom again and my water broke. Everyone told me that it would be like a trickle, but this was the type of thing you'd see in a movie. Everyone told me I'd be pregnant for another 5 weeks too. I guess I had been in labor in my sleep. Good thing I had my bags packed.

I had a picture perfect pregnancy up until this point, so it was quite a surprise. When we got to the hospital, I was already 2cm dilated. They admitted me and put me on Pitocin to induce labor. I opted for meds fairly early in the process, so I spent the next 11 hours fairly comfortable. I was in a lovely, dimly lit laboring suite, watching movies with my husband, with little relative discomfort. The serenity of my L&D suite quickly changed when the nurse checked me and realized she felt a butt instead of a head. My baby was breech and nobody realized until I was 8cm dilated. Suddenly, all the lights flipped on, about 10 people ran into the room and my doctor explained I'd be having a baby within the next 15 minutes. I was rushed into an emergency C-section. I guess I was a naive first time mom, but I never even considered a C-section as a possibly, nor did I even think about the NICU. I didn't even know what the NICU was.

I was rushed into the OR, shivering from the increased medications and starting to cry from the nerves. My husband couldn't come in right away, so my wonderful doctor held my hand all the way to the OR. I remember hearing the nurses talking about what Netflix shows they watched this weekend. It was just another normal day for them and the scariest day of my life, all in the same room. A few minutes later, I gave birth to my Thomas at 35+0 weeks. He was 6lbs 2oz. He cried immediately, which was an instant relief. The relief was short-lived, however, because they quickly explained that he was having some respiratory issues and would need to be taken to the NICU right away. I held him for about 10 seconds and then my husband and baby were gone. After my surgery, I was put in recovery. I don't remember much except that I was the only one in the recovery area since I had an emergency C-section on a Sunday and there were no scheduled C-sections that day. I felt lonely and empty.

I remember being in my bed in my "mother-baby suite," getting pictures texted to me from my husband in the NICU. Luckily, Thomas was doing relatively well. He didn't need to be intubated. My husband and my parents were visiting him in his NICU room. I remember feeling a mix of relief that my baby was doing relatively well, but also feeling like it was totally unfair that everyone got to see my son before I did. I got to see him about 12 hours later and got to hold him for the first time sometime the next day. I also started feeling resentful that I could hear all the other babies crying on my floor, except for mine. Those moms didn't realize how lucky they were.

In retrospect, I now realize that I had postpartum depression from the very beginning. From the very beginning, I had negative feelings and cried every single day. Sleep deprivation, shock of being a new mom, shock of a premature baby in the NICU, the fact that nobody seemed to understand what I was going through, not feeling like my baby's parent while in the NICU, leaving the hospital every day without my baby, pumping constantly and not knowing what the hell I was doing, among many other things attributed to my PPD. My PPD went undiagnosed for 9 months before I finally saw a therapist about it, after my husband opened up to me about wanting his wife back. I would come home from work and not want to hold my baby. I thought sadness, loneliness, emptiness, and resentment were just my new normal. It felt like everyone had been lying to me about how joyful having a baby would be. I felt like if I just got in the car and never came back, my baby would be better off without me because I was not a good mom to him anyway. Everything felt difficult. Now that I have another beautiful baby (and thankfully no PPD this time), I realize now just how dark and stormy that year was - how much I had actually lost to PPD.

All of us have become a part of this NICU club that we never asked to join and it has affected us all in different ways. I hope my story, along with the others that have been shared through this organization, lets even one mom know that she is not alone and that it does eventually get better. I'm trying to use the anger that I have about my "stolen" year and turn it into advocacy for NICU awareness and help other families who are going through some of their most difficult days.