S. (37 - they/them). Parent to Elisa (5), Hadley (3), and Benjamin (1 - pictured)
Boston, MA
What was your postpartum experience?
I don’t know if there was a postpartum with Benjamin. I look back and don’t know how I went from another emergency cesarean to singing happy birthday last week. They were born and we hit the ground running. While I was in the hospital recovering from the delivery; Benjamin wasn’t tolerating breastmilk and was irritable and developing a rash on their bottom. This was so far removed from my previous birth experiences because I exclusively breastfed my other two children without any reaction like this. It was discovered that they had an intolerance to milk, including my own. Internally, I was running the gamut of self deprecation, shame, anxiety, self doubt, and fear. A lot of fear.
Externally, I was making sure that everyone was eating, brushing their teeth, getting all of their needs met and were happy. This was the beginning of what felt like the longest year of my life. My husband deployed a few weeks after the baby was born. At two months old Benjamin’s head circumference was growing off the chart. I was advised to go to the ER at Childrens and it was then discovered that the baby had a small chronic brain bleed and bilateral frontal subdural fluid collections. I was able to contact my husband and they were able to return home. The only explanation for the origin of the bleed was from the delivery where their head was pressing against old scar tissue which caused Benjamin to become stressed, I was also starting to decline and was put under general anesthesia. That is the only time I can not speak to with certainty.
In the months following it felt like one appointment after another and specialist after specialist. When meeting with different doctors my concerns and questions were never validated or answered. With so much uncertainty and no real information gleaned I had no choice but to just keep going. There were two other tiny humans at home and they had needs, appointments, school, friends, and paperwork that wasn’t going to do itself.
Postpartum with Benjamin was marked by continually putting one foot in front of the ever and never stopping because if I did; I would curl up and die. There was no family support despite family being within close proximity. I relied on a small group of my people to help me navigate this stress and really be there for us physically and emotionally. At 9 months Benjamin wasn’t sitting up independently, was choking on purees, and was experiencing a lot of reflux. I was frustrated with the care they were receiving and sought a second opinion with a different neurosurgeon. During this time my 3 year old was struggling with poor impulse control and had some very concerning behaviors. They were diagnosed with ADHD and Pica. The year previous my oldest was diagnosed with Autism.
At this point in time the relationship with my family was already strained and contentious because they do not agree that my children have medical diagnosis. After my middle child was found to meet criteria for ADHD and Pica, my family started to make accusations that I was seeking medical treatment for diagnosis they do not have. I have never been viewed as a competent adult or parent within my family because I raise my children differently than they raise theirs and how they were raised. One particular example is that by using positive reinforcement and redirection vs corporal punishment like hitting, soaking, or shaming my children is interpreted as “letting them walk all over you”. I did not fold up and die when my oldest was diagnosed with Autism. It wasn’t this life changing or devastating event for me. I knew they were autistic at 18 months old. My family who doesn’t even see my children or know them in any meaningful way don’t know what Autism is and are dismissive of their sensory needs or their needs as a human trying to live in a world that is felt in a way that they know nothing about.
When I sought support I was consistently met with disqualifying and invalidating remarks. My children have needs that exceed those of their neurotypical peers and I provide them with the supports, therapies, and interventions recommended by their providers. My family’s opinions are worthless as they are not based in reality and have no evidence to support. I made the decision to abstain from contact with them as they are unwilling to accept myself or my children as we are. My children have a diagnosis; that is not what defines them. They are worth more and deserve more from this world and it’s my job to be their voice until they have their own. Postpartum with Benjamin was marked by complexity, fear, and at the end... resolve I never knew I had.
What is your truth that you'd pass along to your former self, or a new parent?
I wake up every morning with a body which feels tired at times, and doesn’t fit into clothes the same way, or has the same numeric sizing value before I had children. But as a 37 year old, I'm not out to impress anyone, it doesn’t bother me that my skin is loose, that my breasts aren’t firm, that my skin is marked with varicose veins and stretch marks. What matters to me today is that I'm an honest and kind person doing my best every day. Who has a voice and to be authentic; to raise people up and to speak for those who can not do it for themselves.
My body is just the vehicle that gets me from point A to point B and is not something I talk poorly about even when I’m alone. There is always an audience behind the door who is looking to me as the model for which they shape themselves as individuals. I would not be doing them a service if I was to show them anything other than love towards myself and others. I can’t remember a time where I had any real clear picture of what parenting would like. I never had this image of X amount of kids running around playing in a sprinkler. I also never imagined that I would be a parent to 3 children either. Or that I would have my first child shine as bright as the sun and warm as summer 5 year old human who made me a mother. Or that my ears would be filled with the sound of feet running all over my house yelling into a play phone “You have to speak slower! I only know a little Spanish”. Or that I would fall in love every morning and rub noses with the softness that is my son Benjamin; who turned 1 on Saturday and was celebrated by people who love us all unapologetically, as we are, and with unwavering acceptance.
Why did you choose to participate in this movement and share your story?
I’ve felt this movement in my soul when I discovered it in 2015 and it continues to speak to me because I was raised with the notion that what I am as a physical person will determine my self worth and who I am as a whole. The honesty and raw emotion derived from something so simple. A person, a collection of people, a caregiver, with their child; showing themselves in their most intimate state; speaking their own truth. I am honored and humbled to have had the opportunity to be a part of this twice in my lifetime. Allowing myself to share my truth and be vulnerable and completely honest has been one of the highlights of my life and truly a privilege. The visceral response to shame we are told in so many forms after having a baby by saying “this is me.. And this is the body which made three amazing people and carried them, birthed them the best way it knows how, nurtured them, nourished them. This body is indifferent to rejection, indifference, and apathy because it’s not about you. This body has things to do such as raise my children to accept themselves for who they are and within their skin. To be kind, honest, and authentic. To believe that all bodies are beautiful in their own way and that beauty is not always something that you can see with a naked eye. No matter how hard you look.”
