Social Media

Overwhelmed… in the best way. I’m taken aback by all of your messages of ki…

Overwhelmed… in the best way. 💕 I’m taken aback by all of your messages of kindness and support from my post about my deliveries with my two children. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve read your comments, and I felt them in every fiber of my being. I share even further to really explain what happened during my labor and deliveries. To better relate to YOU. And so you can better relate to ME. With my daughter, Avery, I was induced at 40 weeks, 5 days. 34 hours of labor. 4 failed epidurals. Non-stop vomiting. A failed vacuum suction. And finally, an emergency c-section. I blacked out on the table. And I found myself not able to breathe. In that moment, I thought I was dying. Truly, dying. If you’ve ever been near-death, you know this feeling. I begged to God, as tears streamed heavily down my face, to save me. To not let my husband have to parent this little baby girl alone. To not have my baby girl without a momma. And then, I blacked out. My doctor said my body was… done. So exhausted from my prolonged labor and delivery that I passed out entirely. It was also 3:41 in the morning. I never got to see Avery be born. I missed all of it. And I felt like a failure. Something in me was missing. I had a new baby, but I was in such shock with what just happened that I couldn’t focus on her. I still needed answers about what I just went through. But no one seemed to care. I was just supposed to move on. And let it go. I missed her birth. Her first cry. Our skin to skin immediately after. All of it. That “special feeling” everyone talks about? I didn’t have it. I was numb. And I didn’t understand why. Why me? Why did I have so much trouble? What is wrong with me that it wasn’t “love at first sight?” I felt robbed. What was supposed to be such a beautiful moment was taken from me. And I could never get it back. People would tell me, “at least she’s healthy and okay, that’s all that matters.” That’s not ALL that mattered. Of course I was grateful for her health and that she was okay. But moms matter, too. Let me say that again. Moms matter, too. The first three months of our new life together were hard. Really hard. We “lived” in Seoul, South Korea for the first 6 months because my husband was there playing professional baseball. Me, a first-time mom, in a foreign country where everyone around me spoke little to no English. That was tough. I experienced anxiety like I never knew. I had terrible dreams of something happening to Avery. I was “off.” And I couldn’t explain it. Dark thoughts. Dark days. All of it. I was ashamed and so incredibly confused. I was afraid to tell anyone. So I didn’t. I suffered, in silence. I couldn’t even tell my husband. I’m crying as I write this because I’m suddenly brought back to those isolating days. The last picture, for me, is the worst. I wasn’t “depressed.” I wasn’t “sad.” So I never thought I had post-partum depression. But I wasn’t right. I wasn’t myself. Slowly, but surely. I got back to ME. I found my groove with Miss Avery, and we moved to Indy. I met people here on Indy Style—guests—who discussed exactly what I went through. Who held my hand in the green room and told me that I wasn’t crazy. That what I went through was normal. And that I was going to be okay. They saved me. My guests. My viewers. My friends. You. You didn’t know it, but you saved me. I still blame myself for getting induced. I somehow think things would have been different. That maybe THAT’S why things went so awry. The doctors reassure me that’s not the case. But somehow, in the back of my mind, I’ll always wonder. I’m a different person because of that time in my life. The empathy I have for expecting and new mothers is … everything. So please know, if you need me, I’m just a message away. I’ve been there, too, and I’ve got you. You hear me? I’ve got you! I’ll share my Ledger story over the weekend and how a show on TLC saved his life. You’ll never believe the meaning behind the day he had to be born. Much love, friends. #truth #ptsd #postpartum #silentnomore